Stickhouse- Tel Aviv, Israel (via Italy)

When I think Israel, my mind immediately conjures up a picture of the desert. And for the most part, the sweltering heat that comes along with sand dunes and camel rides is an accurate weather forecast on a typical Israeli day. But this winter has been a particularly cruel one for Israel- months of gray and windy days, cold rain and sometimes icy hail. And even in this frigid, atypical weather, Stickhouse, Israel’s own Italian gelato popsicle chain, is still packed with customers waiting for their mouthwateringly unique “articim” (popsicles).

The Stickhouse concept originated in Italy, and was brought to the Holy Land through franchising by Israel’s own Shachar Levi- a trained pastry chef and accomplished businessman. Although plenty of popsicle companies already exist in Israel, Stickhouse immediately stood out to Shachar as something special. 

The ingredients are all natural and consist only of the follow ingredients: milk, soy milk, cream, yogurt, and fresh fruit. When Shachar compared the ingredients label of another popular popsicle to me, each flavor component seemed to be a synthesized chemical. Shachar ironically asked, “Where’s the cream?!” And sure enough, this ice-cream bar lacked that critical ingredient! Hence, Shachar also felt the need to bring natural flavor back to Israel. 

Although Stickhouse is a chain, the flavor options in Israel are unique to the land, and kept secret from the other Stickhouses worldwide. Shachar uses his confectionary talents to replicate popular flavors like chocolate and vanilla, as well as to create tastes that are unique to the Israeli palate, like tahini and pistachio. 

Shachar Levi- Franchise Owner and Manager

The recipes are combined at a small workspace in store. Once they are mixed together, the ingredients are transferred to a patented freezing machine where employees need only to stick a popsicle stick in each base before freezing the popsicle mixtures. The entire freezing process takes approximately 15 minutes. Once complete, the popsicles are flash frozen for good measure, and are either transferred to the store-front of placed in the freezer for later use. Although each frozen pop can stay fresh in the freezer for up to 6 months, they usually have to create a new batch every 3-4 days because of how quickly they sell! 

In the store, customers can choose to doctor up their popsicles according to their own flavor preference. A variety of melted chocolates are available that turn into a hard shell once the popsicle is removed from the dip. And chopped nuts also make a nice addition. I myself ate a delicious, all natural, cheesecake-popsicle, half-dipped in chocolate. I could hardly resist my urge to reach for a second treat! 

What’s next for Stickhouse? Popsicle cakes! Make your next birthday cake hassle free by putting each piece onto a unique popsicle stick! This innovative idea will be coming out in the next few months… but the suspense is killing me!

There are currently over 100 Stickhouses in Israel- proof that our world is shrinking. How else do you explain a traditionally Italian treat served up Israeli style in the heart of the desert? 

So many delicious flavors to choose from!

Kanafeh- Israel (Arab-Israeli)

Chocolate heals a broken heart, although Ben & Jerry’s can be equally successful. Twizzlers, to me, are movie candies- the sweetness of the strawberry licorice paired with salty popcorn is enough to make any movie worth seeing. Cakes are for celebrations. But kanafeh? Kanafeh is simply an experience. 

I’ve eaten kanafeh twice in my life; both times were in Israel. The first time, I was 21 years old and urged by an old friend to head to Jerusalem for the best middle-eastern dessert that the Arab people had to offer. This time, I sought it out myself, in the heart of Tel Aviv. If my memory served me correctly, this dish was “achla” (“wonderful”, in Arabic/Hebrew slang), and worth the trip to the shuk (outdoor market where you can find anything from vegetables and breads to costumes and curry flavored sesame seeds). 

The shuk is often crowded with shouts from vendors to come purchase from the best, smells of raw fish and sewage, pushy Israelis trying to make their way past tourists like me, and of course, food booths. This particular shuk, “Shuk HaCarmel” is located on a narrow side street on the busiest intersection in Tel Aviv. 

Most of the booths have beautiful displays of fresh and local vegetables for the best prices this side of the Galilee. The kanafeh booth, however, is more of an isolated table in the middle of the shuk. Once I approached, I figured out why this confection vendor stands alone among the hustle and bustle of the marketplace. 

The old man who makes this dessert stands confidently by his sweets. His hands are visibly worn from years of preparing this unique dish. He’s perfected his recipe over the years to the point where he is certain that his culinary creation will sell, without the need for customer service. Simply stated, the man is rude! He doesn’t care to elaborate on his feelings of the dish, his recipe, or the history of kanafeh. Therefore, I had to do some online research for a background on kanafeh, but I assure you the experience is all my own. 

Kanafeh is a sweet pastry made from layers of thread-thin, crispy dough with nabulsi cheese (a sweet cottage-cheese-like filling), drizzled in sugar- and rose-water. Often times, it is topped with crushed pistachio to add to the crunch, and coated with orange food-coloring. This dessert dates back to the middle ages of Arab culture and is often cooked in large pans, double the size of a pizza-pie dish. 

In my most recent kanafeh experience, I approached the vendor to ask if he could tell me a little bit about the dessert. His response was a dismissive “I don’t have time for this”, in Arabic-accented Hebrew, of course. (To elaborate, he had no other customers at the moment but me.) Alas, I was persistent. So I asked him for a slice of his dessert. 

He proceeded to slab a mouse-pad-sized serving of moist kanafeh on a square Styrofoam plate, and charged me 10 shekels for my purchase. (This translates into approximately $2.50.) It wasn’t the price of the dish that bothered me, but the amount he gave me. It would have been impossible (well, maybe not impossible, but certainly unhealthy) for me to eat the entire serving. 

I asked him to cut the serving down to half of what he had given me. So he removed half of the kanafeh and returned the plate to me. Again, I asked him how much he would like. Again, he responed, “10 shekels.” I looked at him, confused. I might not speak his language, but I know that if you remove half of my purchase, I should only pay half of the original price. Determined to get 10 shekels from me, he added a small piece of baklava to my plate. Annoyed, I paid the man his 10 shekels, and walked away with what I’ll call a “piggy-portion” of dessert, all for me. 

This particular kanafeh was not the warm, moist dish I remembered from Jerusalem. However, there was no mistaking its distinct rose-water flavor and phyllo-dough crunch. Kanafeh is a staple dish at Arabic celebrations and can be found in many Middle-Eastern specialty stores in the US. Fortunately for me, I have the authentic version of this dish at my disposal, just down the street. Unfortunately, acquiring it necessitates interacting with, quite possibly, the least friendly Arab-Israeli I have yet to meet in this country. But the dessert is so unique and decadent that it is often worth the aggravation… and the ten shekels. 

 (This content can also be found on the Taste TLV website: www.tastetlv.com )