Culinary Accident in Pacific Heights: My Bourekas Brunch Disaster

A Story Unfolding Across Timelines.

Flashback.

San Francisco

In my first years in San Francisco, I hadn’t yet diagnosed myself with a foodie disorder, but my instincts were still strong. Even though I couldn’t explain it then as I can today, I knew that food is a bridge to connect people, and since I love to cook, I finally had a reason to cook for my friends. So, I started organizing group gatherings that included Israeli friends from the city, American friends I’d met here, and my beloved roommates. When the urge to cook hit, all I needed to do was text the group chat and invite them over for the weekend.

Much more will be told about these weekend gatherings at my house in Pacific Heights, but today, I want to share the story of when I hosted my friends for a Bourekas brunch for the first time in their lives. Except for my Israeli friends, who knew what Bourekas were, neither my roommates nor my new friends from the city had ever heard of them. Since my kitchen wasn’t equipped for baking pastries from scratch, I waited for the right moment to find frozen Bourekas to bake.

I have been waiting to introduce my guests to this Israeli pastry delight for a long time. However, only when a friend who lived near the Israeli grocery store in Oakland could grab some items from there did I finally invite the group for Sunday Bourekas brunch. In my mind, I began planning what the brunch would include and how I’d introduce the Bourekas and their origin. I looked forward to that Sunday gathering, like a kid waiting for their favorite treat, since even for me, it had been a long time since I’d last eaten Bourekas.

On Sunday, my friend arrived a bit earlier than the other guests with two bags of Israeli delights that made me so happy I couldn’t stop smiling. Familiar Israeli brands like Tnuva , Osem Nestle ??? ????? , Telma, Strauss Group and Elite filled my kitchen. That was the first time I truly understood what Russians and Ukrainians in Israel feel when shopping at Tiv Taam . It’s incredible how food can evoke emotions and memories.

Excitement was at its peak, so I immediately started the preparations. I grabbed a baking tray, covered it with foil, opened the box of frozen Bourekas, and placed them on the tray. I brushed them with egg wash, sprinkled sesame seeds on top, and put them in the oven. Meanwhile, I boiled eggs and sliced pickles and vegetables.

I rehearsed how to introduce Bourekas to my guests. Though Bourekas originated in Turkey, many Jewish ethnic groups, especially from North Africa, also make them. Bourekas has become one of Israel’s most popular foods, and we eat it all the time for breakfast, dinner, holidays, special occasions, and as on-the-go snacks. In Israel, bakeries are everywhere, and there isn’t a single one without a dedicated Bourekas section offering various fillings, shapes, and sizes.

Soon, all the guests arrived at my house, hungry and ready for brunch to begin. The timer indicated 35 minutes had passed, and it was time to take the Bourekas out of the oven. I removed the hot baking tray and waited a few minutes for it to cool before moving the Bourekas to a serving tray and bringing them to the table. The table was beautifully set with boiled eggs, pickles, and sliced vegetables, and everything looked perfect.

The tray cooled down, and I reached for the first Bourekas - but I couldn’t pick it up. It was stuck to the foil. I tried another, but it was also stuck. OMG!!! My face turned pale as I realized that, in my excitement, I had forgotten to oil the foil before placing the Bourekas on the tray. I tried to separate the bottom of each Bourekas from the foil, but they were all stuck. The perfect brunch I’d envisioned was now a colossal disaster. How was I going to recover from this?

I was embarrassed. I wanted to disappear. I had no idea how to get out of this. The guests were waiting in the living room, hungry and expecting the delicious pastry I’d been talking about for weeks. How could I forget to oil the tray? I felt so angry with myself. How could the greatest chef, which is me, by the way, forget such an important detail? This had never happened to me before! I didn’t even have a good reason for it.

Looking back, I assume that, having not baked Bourekas in a long time and working in a kitchen different from my Israeli one, my autopilot was incomplete; one link in the chain was missing, and I hadn’t noticed until it was too late.

In great despair, I gathered what remained of my self-respect and the Bourekas pieces I could salvage and served them on the table. I apologized and explained what had happened, attempting to use my mother’s classic line for when food doesn’t look perfect but still tastes good: “It all mixes in the stomach, so appearance isn’t the most important thing.” But inside, I knew I was just trying to cover up a major mistake.

My speech about the Bourekas included some history and a lot of descriptions about how they should look. The Bourekas pieces I served tasted good, and the guests enjoyed the hospitality overall. Still, I couldn’t help but think how I ruined the introduction of Bourekas to my American friends, who were unfamiliar with Israeli and Mediterranean cuisine. I was worried it might affect their interest in trying Israeli or Turkish food in the future.?

After the guests left, I called my mother in tears and told her what had happened. I cried like a child, so disappointed in myself. At first, she was shocked and asked how I could forget to oil the foil if I wasn’t using parchment paper. I explained that I didn’t have parchment paper, so I’d instinctively used foil and forgot to oil it. But as she sensed how hard I was on myself, she comforted me, suggesting that I invite my friends for another brunch soon so they’d have a fresh memory of my cooking.

I still carry this disaster with me. I remember the shock when I realized all the Bourekas were stuck to the foil and the embarrassment of having no backup plan with hungry guests waiting. One lesson I learned from this is to prepare the main components of a meal in advance, leaving only the final touches for the last minute. That way, it doesn’t ruin the entire experience if something goes wrong.

And that was the final note in today’s tales of the Bourekas. Stay tuned for the last episode in this Bourekas series, where I’ll share my fusion Bourekas recipe.

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Liat

In this journey, I weave together episodes from my life with the rich tapestry of Israeli culture through music, food, arts, entrepreneurship, and more. I write over the weekends and evenings and publish these episodes as they unfold, almost like a live performance.

Each episode is part of a set focused on a specific topic, though sometimes I release standalone episodes. A set is released over several days to make it easier for you to read during your busy workday. If one episode catches your attention, make sure to read the entire set to get the whole picture. Although these episodes are released in sets, you can read the entire newsletter from the beginning, as it flows smoothly, like music to your ears? - ?or, in this case, your eyes.