#Armenian deli

[formeryelpers]

Old Fashion Deli, 2830 N Verdugo Rd Glendale, CA 91208

Old Fashion Deli is in a part of residential Glendale that I’ve never been to before. There wasn’t much in the area. While the market is small/medium size, it does have a bit of everything, including lots of products from Armenia. The aisles are narrow. They seemed to have some pastries made in house but not bread; they carry lavash, pita, sangak and other bread from local bakeries. They have staffed meat and deli department. You can order cooked to order kabobs. They also have Persian stews, housemade dips and salads like hummus, tabbouleh, ikra, etc. The meat department had marinated meat for kabobs. I noticed the bread didn’t have any prices.

They have bulk nuts, bulk imported candy, spices, nice looking fresh produce, coffee, a deli with cured meat, sausages, and cheese, fresh meat, yogurt, canned food, frozen food, Russian chocolates, dairy, Mashti Malone ice cream, etc. The prices are about double Super King’s. A can of garbanzo beans was $1.48 – pretty expensive.

However, the kabobs plates are cheap and so are the sandwiches ($6.99 - $7.99). The kabob plates come with rice, grilled veggies, and lavash. The sign said it came with a garden salad but I didn’t get a salad.

Chicken lule kabob plate ($10.99): Way too much rice, 2 big juicy kabobs, grilled tomato, grilled pepper, and some lavash. The basmati rice was pretty plain and there was soooo much of it. I wish I had gotten a garden salad and/or hummus. The kabobs were a tad salty. The food was fine but plain. You have to pay for sides and dips which is fine if you’re feeding a family but not so practical for one person.

Hummus: Strong garlic flavor and not as smooth vs. Israeli hummus

Dolmas: Mushy, bland but big

Tabbouleh: Mostly parsley and dry in a good way

They rang me up and didn’t provide a receipt. Seems strange to me. Parking is easy because they have their own parking lot. It smells like Armenian coffee inside.

3.5 out of 5 stars.

By Lolia S.

#Old Fashion Deli & Market #Armenian grocer #Armenian grocery store #kabob meat #kabob plates #sandwiches #produce #sangak #hummus

[smoqueen]

armenian deli spotted in Cobra Kai season 1 as johnny lawrence beats the shit out of vagrants

[tinydooms]

Your blog feels like a cozy library, filled with plush chairs and shelves full to bursting of books. it’s everyone’s favourite gathering place, because The Mummy’s constantly playing on a screen in the corner, and everyone’s welcome (provided they’re polite and friendly, of course!). plus, there’s always fresh chocolate-chip cookies on offer.

This made me laugh, because this is an honest to God photograph of the room I call we call the study:

And there are always snacks! Maybe not cookies--actually today I have some kind of Armenian pastry (I'm not sure what; the lady in the shop called it "Armenian Pastry"; it was a European Market that I made a hard left turn to get to after spying it from the road; everything was in Russian--or at least written with Cyrillic and I don't read Cyrillic--but now I have enough good deli meat and cheese and pastry to last me a while, so) because mama wanted cake. But I'm glad to hear that my blog aesthetic matches my real life one! :-)

#asks and answers #vibes #vibe check #interiors #decor #personal

[tapaszz]

BREAKFAST IN DOWNTOWN BURBANK IS THE BEST OF LOS ANGELES

Home to some of the best breakfast in Los Angeles, Downtown Burbank takes the most important meal of your day very seriously. Whether you’re in search Best restaurants in Tarzana of coffee shop vibes, brunch spots, popular chain restaurants, a standout deli or an easy on-the-go meal, you’ll find the top breakfasts in Burbank at these noteworthy eateries.

LILY’S CAFÉ As a hometown staple, Lily’s Café is known for its charming environment and scrumptious menu. The restaurant offers organic steel cut oatmeal, jello berry parfait and a large variety of breakfast pastries including muffins, scones, and breads. To get the most out of your morning outing, you’ll likely want to pair your breakfast treat with Lily’s house tea or an espresso-based coffee drink.

MILANO CAFE & DELI The location is more than a deli and cafe, it hosts a range of amenities including an upscale market featuring dry and canned goods, non-food essential items, and a selection of French, Italian, Brazilian, and Armenian specialty items. The cafe features fresh baked bread and desserts, a hot and cold bar, breakfast, lunch and dinner menus, coffee and tea, and a juice and smoothie bar. Make sure to check out this deli when you’re in search of a top breakfast place in Downtown Burbank!

ARTELICE PATISSERIE The location is more than a deli and cafe, it hosts a range of amenities including an upscale market featuring dry and canned goods, Artelice has perfected the idea of “where art becomes delicious”. This high-end french pastry shop adds a modern twist to all of their indulgent desserts, making these sweets look just as exquisite as they taste. Pastries so beautiful and delicious they have catered for the Grammys. If you’re looking to pair your pastry with something warm, explore their coffee and tea selection.

SAN MARCO COFFEE ROASTING HOUSE Not only is San Marco Coffee Roasting House a quirky coffee shop to sit and sip on an easy morning, but they also roast and sell their own beans. Their gourmet coffee is flavorful and reliable making it worthy of becoming a part of your regular morning routine. For a refreshing and delightful caffeinated treat, try their flavorful iced lattes or their assortment of coffee and tea to kickstart your morning.

THE GREAT GRILL Not exclusively a breakfast spot, The Great Grill is still a great choice for breakfast lovers. Known to use simple yet fresh ingredients, every morning plate is easy on the eyes and tasty in the belly. From waffles and french toast to a selection of grilled breakfast burritos (including a vegetarian option), the menu offers diners plenty of meal options to start their day.

[exxotiquegourmet]

#exxotique #gourmet #exxotiquegourmet #armenia #armenian #bakeries #boyrek #los #angeles #foodie #blogger #epicurious #gourmand #dean #doluca #diner #deli #loving #girl #food #cooking #cook

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

Lo and behold, it turns out that vehement online anti-Zionism inspires people to engage in antisemitic violence offline, endangering Jews as a result. In the streets of major cities around the world, Jews have been targeted with fireworks, with fists, and with human spit. Who knew this could happen? Well, we did, and we tried to make noise about it.

Explosives were thrown into a crowd of Jews in New York’s Diamond District. Jews were attacked outside a bagel store in midtown Manhattan. Jews in a New York restaurant had bottles thrown at them. A Jewish man was hospitalized after he was beaten on the street in New York. Jews were brutally assaulted in Toronto. An Orthodox man fled from a car trying to mow him down in an LA parking lot. Down the street, Jews were beaten up outside a sushi restaurant by a mob who asked if they were Jews. In London, cars drove through Jewish neighborhoods as their drivers screamed “Fuck the Jews! Rape their daughters!” Jewish synagogues in Skokie, Tucson, and Salt Lake City were vandalized. Delis have been destroyed. A demonstration in Vienna featuring people shouting “Shove your Holocaust up your ass” was met with resounding applause. In the U.K., there have been 116 reported incidents of antisemitism in 10 days—a 600% increase.

But online, the more I tweeted during the 11 days of violence in the Middle East, the louder the dissent grew, and the crazier the opposition. The counterargument essentially amounted to “This Jew is LYING.” Which makes sense, given how effective the mainstream media is at presenting only one side of a story, and given the patterns of history in which the Jews have always been framed as arbiters of lies! Even upon posting a note about an uplifting conversation I had in an Uber with an Armenian driver who advocated for the truth above all else and respect for fellow humans regardless of opinion, the note was dragged across the web as a lie. Why would I lie about an interaction with a stranger? Meanwhile, while I was being dragged as a fraudster, one tweeter used an app called TweetGen to fabricate a fake tweet by me. Apparently, in 2015, I quoted lyrics of a rap song I’ve never heard before, which included the “N-word.” This tweet didn’t sound like me, wasn’t written by me, and never existed in the first place. It was created as further “proof” that I’m a “racist.”

#twitter #antisemitism #eve barlow #pogrom #media pogrom

[solaroppositestrash]

Underrated (or just great) lines in Solar Opposites Pt. 2:

Korvo: When’s the last time I needed Shlorpian money? Was it at that Armenian deli?

Korvo: Oh no! It was on Shlorp!

#solar opposites #korvo #terry korvo #solar-opposites-quotes

[sohannabarberaesque]

Poetry Corner

Delicatessen. Once again on the mind of Top Cat as a simple way to eat light and yet hearty, after the fashion back in Brooklyn ... which can always get to be rather interesting.

Which can certainly be true with the meats, cheese, side salads and condiments-- yet when it comes to the bread, TC can be assumed to be rather varietal.

I’ve heard him speak fondly of “health loaf” in the classic New York stylee--marbled multi-grain, I understand, with bits of rye, whole wheat and flax. Probably difficult to find it on the coast.

But I’ve also heard of where TC has taken deli on Italian shepherd’s loaf, French brioche, San Franciscan sourdough, Armenian flatbread, naan, Jewish rye, Hawai’ian sweet and multi-grain loaves, let alone the plebian white.

Still, his clowder manages to go along with the bread choice of the moment-- probably on whim more than anything, just as long as the deli tastes rather interesting when all is said and done.

I am hoping these exercises in Sunday-afternoon poesy continue to be worthwhile and amusing, bemusing even ... and I’d welcome your comments and submissions.

@warnerarchive @hanna-barbera-land @warnerbrosentertainment @cottoncandy-wannabe @hanna-barbera-blog @dinobirdy @screamingtoosoftly @themineralyoucrave @jg376 @hanna-barberians @wherearethememesonmyplate

#hanna barbera #poetry #poesy #top cat #delicatessen #deli bread #decisions decisions #hannabarberaforever

[sergo2060]

#Work #ekspression #abstract #sarkisyerevancii #ASG #AslanyanSG #gallery #conservatory #Armenian #Russia #usa #israel#monaco #cina #dubai #deli #Moscow  30 05 2017 (at Музей русского импрессионизма)

#russia #armenian #abstract #monaco #conservatory #usa #ekspression #asg #aslanyansg #israel #dubai #cina #moscow #deli #work #sarkisyerevancii #gallery

[dead-tigris]

One of my favorite songs, “Yardili” (يردلي) which is most widely translated to “My Love” or “My Heart” is a popular old folklore song sang throughout Iraq and the surrounding regions to the North. It is mostly believed to have originated in Iraqi city of Mosul, whilst there are some narrations which state the song originated in neighbouring Qamishli in North-eastern Syria, or Mardin in Turkey. All in all, it is known to have originated in the region which was historically referred as “الجزيرة الفراتية”, before modern nation-state borders were erupted. Translated to “The Island of the Euphrates”, in reference to the regions being surrounded by the Northern part of the Euphrates River, one of the two major rivers thet make up Mesopotamia. In English the region is synonymous with the term “Upper Mesopotamia”. This region, compromising North (and parts of Eastern) Iraq, Northeastern Syria, Northwestern Iran, and Southeastern Turkey, is particularly known for being one of the most multiethnic and multicultural regions in the Middle East. It’s inhabitants include ethnic Assyrians/Chaldeans, Arabs, Kurds, Turkmen, Shabaks, Yazidis, Armenians, (previously Jews) and others. The religious affiliations of the ethnic groups is mainly Islam, Christianity, Yazidism and other indigenous religions, and the various languages spoken include Arabic, Assyrian, Kurdish, Armenian and Turkish. The Al-Jazirah province in Syria was named after this historical region, and some people from there still refer to the region as such.

The song is about a love story occurring around the end of the 1900′s, between an Arab Muslim man, and an Assyrian Christian woman. The girl was from a rich and wealthy Assyrian family from Mosul in Iraq, whose father was a chief member of the community at the time. Some stories note that the boy was a poor Arab orphan who was adopted by the Assyrian family and grew up with the girl, eventually falling in love with her, while others do not mention it and just mention that it was between a poor Arab man and a rich Assyrian woman. The song describes the man’s affection of this girl, who in the song he refers to as “Samra” which translates to “brown (girl)”, a word used in the Arabic language to refer to a person who has a beautiful brown skin complexion. The man told the girl’s father of his affection for his daughter, which did not please him due to their religious and ethnic differences. The most popular version of the story states that the couple did end up getting married in the end, and the song is a description of the man’s love for the girl and her beauty, and of the girl on the wedding day. The origin of the word Yardili is unknown and contested; some think it is the name of the woman the man fell in love with. Others claim it is rooted in the Turkish words “yar” meaning young female and “deli” meaning pampered.

The song is remembered as a unifying and joyful force for the people when sung, reminding them of their culturally diverse homeland, and is sung by Arabs, Assyrians, Kurds and others alike. Whenever an instance of an inter-ethnic love affair arises between two people from different backgrounds, it is sometimes referred to as a “Story of Yardili” (قصة ياردلي). There have been many versions of the songs created, with influences taken from the various languages spoken in the region.

Some of the lyrics of the song translate to:

My love (Yardili), my love (Yardili), Samra (brown girl), you have killed me! Fear the God of the Sky and never leave me! You with your religion, and me with mine (there’s no need to renounce our identities)

…

And your eyelashes, they are so beautiful! [Your beauty and love] has caused there to be knives in my heart!

This version of the song is by sang by Syrian singers, Arî Jan and Sarah Darwish. Other versions include an old Iraqi version, and other famous modern versions sung by Iraqi singers, Kadhim Al Saher, Shatha Hasoon, and Sawsan Najar. Another popular version I found online is a cover by a Syrian singer on youtube Maya Ghaly.

#mesopotamia #upper mesopotamia #الجزيرة الفراتية #بلاد الرافدين #upload #Iraq

[formeryelpers]

Glendale Ranch Market, 1122 S Central Ave, Glendale, CA 91204

Glendale Ranch Market is one of the larger Armenian grocery stores in the area. It looks older and that it hasn’t been remodeled in a long time. They have some prepared foods (made there) in the fridge near the entrance, including soups, stews, hummus, salads, kotlets, pre-made sandwiches, etc. Towards the back you’ll find a meat, seafood, cheese, and deli counter with some cooked BBQ items and marinated meats (for kabobs).

There is no in-store deli but they carry lavash, pita, and cracker bread from local bakeries. The produce prices were on the high side. Even worse, I spotted some moldy, old looking produce. They also carry the usual spices, beans, rice, olive oil, nuts, tea, Armenian coffee, liquor, dairy, frozen food, etc.

My picks:

Housemade hummus: It tasted very sour and old. We had to throw it away.

Lavash ($2.99): Made elsewhere, thin and soft

It smells like Armenian coffee inside. They have a huge parking lot. Since the food is of questionable freshness, I don’t think I’d shop here again.

2 out of 5 stars.

By Lolia S.

#Armenian market #grocery shopping #Armenian grocer #groceries #Glendale #lavash #kabobs #Glendale Ranch Market

[nolookfive]

i will be your home, keep you warm when it’s cold

okay so! this one is for @dmigod​ because i wanna make her cry, @fourdrinkamy​ for giving me the idea to roll with the life calendar thing and also @elsaclack​ because i had a mental block and then i went back to read her fics and motivation hit me like a ton of bricks so thank u wizard em! cya later if you wanna yell at me for this then you know where to find me.

Jake doesn’t understand how his life manages to find loopholes to screw him over. He’s been through pain before; the pain of his father leaving, the pain of being separated from Amy for six months in the inexplicably cold heat of Florida, the pain of being separated from Amy again in the hellhole that was prison. He knows Amy felt that same pain; she told him about it one Tuesday night after a long stressful day where nothing was going right and an emotional breakdown was on the cards after Scully spilled a jar of coffee beans everywhere.

He knows she felt it. And he knows, just like him, she hasn’t felt this type of pain before. And he wouldn’t wish it upon anyone, ever.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Exactly seven months and four days after their wedding, Amy sits on the edge of the bathtub, staring at the counter impatiently. Her hands twitch, resisting the urge to reach up and twist her hair into wild braids.

It wasn’t as if they didn’t want children. They’d had that talk well before they got engaged. It was more the fact that Amy wanted to at least become a lieutenant before they even considered trying. Jake was aware of this and fully understanding - he’s been around her life calendar for years now. He knows what her plan is and he respects it.

But things on her life calendar haven’t necessarily gone fully to plan. Marriage was further down the line and that happened sooner than she expected. And a baby? Well, to be fair, they hadn’t exactly been very safe lately. By the time her second alarm went off at 6:45am, Jake’s hands would already be tugging her underwear down her legs, his lips ghosting over her neck.

“Who cares if we’re not at work on time?” he’d mumble as her third alarm went off, capturing her moans with his lips. The only problem with that third alarm, though, is it would be the same time she takes her birth control. And when she’s preoccupied in...certain ways, she tends to be just a little bit forgetful.

But this is first time she’s been over a week late.

She lets out a huff, standing up to see how much longer she has to wait when he phone lets off a jarring ring, signalling the end of the two minutes. She quickly turns it off and takes a deep breath, reaching for the small white stick when suddenly the bathroom door opens and Jake comes barreling in.

“Hey babe, have you seen my-” he stops, his eyes immediately drawn to the packaging next to the sink and the test just out of Amy’s reach. She stares at him, panic setting in as she watches him process exactly what she’s doing.

“Is that - is that what I think it is?”

Amy swallows. “Yeah.”

“Is it - I mean, are you-”

“I - I don’t know. I was just about to check.”

He can tell she’s freaking out, her eyes as wide as a deer in the headlights. He cautiously takes a couple of steps towards her and reaches for her hand, his thumb running circles into her palm. She looks up at him then, her heart slamming against her chest, and she thinks about this minuscule piece of plastic sitting behind her, potentially holding a result that could change their lives.

“Hey,” he says softly, his other hand stroking up and down her arm. “It’s okay.”

“I...” she starts, then shakes her head. “If it’s positive - I mean, the life calendar-”

“Amy, the life calendar hasn’t exactly gone to plan, has it?” he interrupts, holding up his left hand pointedly, a plain gold band sitting on his ring finger. “I mean - we wanted this to happen at some point, right?”

“Right, but-”

“But what?”

“What if I can’t do it?”

Jake stares at her incredulously. “Are you insane? You’re Amy. Remember that jar of Armenian pickles Charles had in the fridge last week that he claimed was impossible to open?”

“Are you seriously comparing this situation to Charles’ lack of strength?”

“Oh my god.” Jake rolls his eyes. “The point is, you did what no one else could. You’re strong as hell. And if you think you can’t do that,” he points to the test, “I know you don’t like being told you’re wrong but in thiscase, you’re wrong.”

She studies him for a moment, then closes her eyes and leans against him, her forehead resting against his collarbone. “It might not even be positive,” she mumbles.

“Only one way to find out,” he replies, “do you want me to check it?”

“Yeah.” He pulls away, kissing her forehead and reaches around behind her, picking up the white stick. She’s scared, anxious, nervous, and somehow excited all at once. She watches him as he holds the stick up, his eyes scanning the length of it before looking intently at the spot that would change everything. His lips curl into a small smile as he turns the stick around.

And she’s met with the tiniest pink plus sign she’s ever seen.

“Looks like you’re gonna be a mom,” Jake says, watching her eyes well up as his smile gets bigger.

She can’t respond, the tears falling freely as she stares at the test incomplete awe. She has less than a second to compose herself before the excitement kicks in and she lets out a soft laugh, Jake’s arms going around her waist and pulling her to him tightly.

“We’re gonna be parents, babe,” he whispers into her hair, his lips pecking the skin behind her ear. She’s still speechless, wondering how two steps on her life calendar managed to happen in less than a year when she thought she’d had everything planned out. Jake leans back, his hands coming up to cup her face and kiss her gently. She melts into him, her hands curling against the collar of his hoodie, pulling him closer to her.

“We’re actually having a baby,” she says, more to herself as a confirmation that holy shit this is actually happening.

“Yeah we are.” Jake lets his hand drift down to her stomach. “You can do this, Ames,” he whispers, kissing her again. “I know you can.”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

They tell their parents first, Jake’s in person and Amy’s over Skype. Camila Santiago instantly bursts into tears the second Amy holds up a picture from their first scan, their baby barely visible at only seven weeks but it’s there.

“Now, Amy, you need to start eating more fruit and vegetables. This way, your baby will be a girl and we need more women in this family, mija!” she cries, clapping her hands.

Needless to say, they ended that call fairly quickly(mostly due to Amy’s sudden lack of patience and the waves of irritation that have hit her in the last two days).

Karen and Roger are much more tame, letting out a collective gasp as Jake hands them the ultrasound photo. Roger slaps a hand against Jake’s back while Karen settles on the sofa next to Amy, studying the fuzzy print.

“Looks like you’re gonna be a dad just like me, bud!” Roger exclaims. Jake resists the urge to tell him to fuck off, ignoring the rage building up inside him when he shoots a look over at Amy.

“You’ll be better,” she mouths, giving him a small smile.

They tell Captain Holt next.

There was no build up to it, Jake had insisted that Holt doesn’t appreciate beating around the bush (Amy should know this, she’s halfway through binder number two of their mentoring program) so when they sat down in his office one Thursday morning, the easiest thing for all of them was to just throw it out there.

“Amy’s pregnant!” Jake blurts out. The room goes quiet, Holt looking back and forth between them, briefly glancing at Amy’s stomach hidden beneath her new navy blazer she intentionally bought one size larger.

“Congratulations,” he spoke, “make sure you take it easy from now on.”

“Don’t worry, babe,” Jake whispers as they leave his office, “he’s definitely stoked that his two best detectives got it on.”

“Shut up,” she groans, slapping a hand against her forehead.

And finally, they tell the squad. 

Charles had organised another detectives-only weekend away, this time at a holiday home owned by Genevieve’s distant cousin. By this stage, Amy is nine weeks pregnant. She’s been feeling nauseous for the last week and a half, and every second day has brought her headache after headache. The small bump beneath her shirt isn’t super noticeable but she feels it, absentmindedly letting her fingertips trace over the hard skin when no one else is watching.

She’s sitting at the island in the kitchen talking to Terry about an old case when she glances over at Gina, who is staring at her with narrowed eyes. Amy instantly knows what she’s looking at, she can see Gina doing the math in her head - the sick day she had the week before, orders of decaf coffee, denying free sushi from the deli down the street - and Amy can almost see a literal light bulb flashing above her head. She knows.

Gina smirks, disappearing into the kitchen and emerging less than a minute later holding two full wine glasses. “Alright, girl,” she says, plopping down on the stool, “which Amy are we going to see this year? I’m personally thinking Nine-Drink Amy should come out of her cave. Don’t get me wrong, Eight-Drink Amy is an icon, but we are minus a horse so we’ll have to make do without her.”

Amy glares at Gina as she slides one of the glasses in her direction, knowing she has to think of an excuse and think of it quickly.

“Actually,” she begins, sliding the glass back towards Gina, “It’s...only 4 o’clock. Some would say it’s too early.”

It’s code. Don’t say anything.

“Too early? Come on, Santiago, we’re on holiday!” Terry exclaims. “Treat yourself!”

“What are you guys talking about?” Jake asks, a slice of pizza in hand as he heads towards the fridge for another beer.

“Just trying to offer old Amy here a drink but for some reason, she’s not in the mood for an alcohol buzz,” Gina answers, her voice threaded with tease.

Jake whips around, his cheeks full of the cheesy crust he just stuffed his face with. “Why-mmph,” he grunts, quickly swallowing. “Why you doin’ that, Gina?”

“My sweet Jacob, some of us come on these trips to relax. Much like Terry and Charles, I come on these trips to get away from my kid. But also, I thoroughly enjoy witnessing drunk Amy,” Gina explains, giving him a knowing look and Amy can see it click in his eyes.

“Now, Amy, are you sure you don’t want this wine-”

“Gina,” Jake says sharply, making everyone look at him. “Stop.” He circles the counter, his hands running up his wife’s back to rub at his shoulders. “Ignore her,” he whispers in her ear.

“Alright, what’s going on with you two?” Terry asks, his voice suspicious as Rosa and Charles walk into the kitchen for a refill.

Amy glances over her shoulder at Jake with a defeated expression. “Let’s just tell them,” she sighs.

Charles gasps. “Did you finally try that couples hair-washing class I sent you the link to? Didn’t I tell you, Jake, it’s the most erotic thing ever, Genevieve and I tried it and-”

“No, Charles, that’s gross. I deleted that entire conversation, even my phone was traumatized.”

Charles frowns. “So what is it? You’re already married. And Amy can’t be pregnant, Jake said that’s further down your life calendar and we all know how strict you are with that, there’s no way you could...”

He trails off when he sees Amy bite her lip, resisting the urge to smile. He sees Jake’s arms curling around her shoulders, hugging her from behind as Amy’s hand presses against her bump again, which is much more noticeable now that all eyes are on her.

“No way,” Rosa deadpans, the sound of Charles hyperventilating filling the room.

“You’re - but you - and Jake - and - parents?”

Amy nods. “I’m nine weeks.”

“OH. MY. GOD!”

And then he passes out.

“Cheers to that,” Gina says, raising her glass.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

She’s ten and a half weeks pregnant and everything is fucking annoying, from Jake’s concerned gaze on the other side of her desk, to Charles giving her daily lists of multivitamins. She knew she’d feel a little tired but she had no idea that growing a baby would exhaust her this much and drain all of her energy.

“Can you guys please leave me alone, I’m fine,” she’d insisted, slumping in her chair and letting her eyes close for a second. The next thing she knew, she was being carried into her apartment and tucked into bed, her husband pressing a sweet kiss to her forehead and promising to call her later.

That was hours ago. The sunlight that shone through their bedroom windows had dimmed, the sky outside a deep blue with fluorescent spots of yellow from the street lamps below. She managed to get some sleep, cuddling the soft mink blanket to her chest as her hand runs across her stomach continuously, hoping her tiny nugget is as comfortable as she is right now. She’s about to doze off again when she hears the front door close and a set of keys being dropped on the bench. She waits for him to come to her, knowing that he’ll fuss over how she’s feeling and once again she roll her eyes and tell him to relax.

When he opens their bedroom door and peeks at her around the frame, the look in his eyes is mischievous. “Hey babe,” he says softly, “you feeling better?”

She stretches slightly. “Mmm, heaps better.”

“Good.” He pushes the door open, walking towards the bed holding a plain brown paper bag in one hand.

“Oh god, what is that?” Amy sighs as he sits down on the bed.

“It’s not bad,” he starts, watching her as she sits up, “it’s just a present. For you. Well, for the baby. And us. More for us, I guess.” He reaches into the bag and pulls out the smallest police onesie Amy has ever seen, laying it flat on the comforter in front of them. She lets out a gasp, reaching forward and letting her fingers trace the stitching of the soft material, her eyes tearing up for the fifth time today (damn those hormones) as she picks up the matching beanie, nuzzling her cheek against the fluffy material.

“So...you like it?” Jake asks, adjusting his position to curl his arm around her waist.

“Babe, it’s so cute,” she giggles, “where did you get it?”

Jake shrugs. “Charles and I were bringing in a suspect for questioning and we passed this baby store. It looked like it had just opened so I thought I’d go in and have a look on the way home and...yeah. The girl that worked there practically threw it at me when she saw my badge, said it was ‘fate’ or something. I think she was a bit of a space head. Brooklyn is full of weirdos.”

Amy smiles, kissing his cheek. “Even if she is a space head, this is perfect.”

“Our baby is gonna be so cool,” he mumbles, leaning forward to rest his cheek against her growing stomach. “You hear that, kid? You’ve got a badass detective for a dad and the prettiest sergeant for a mom. You’re already awesome and you don’t even know it.”

Amy cards her fingers through Jake’s hair as he continues to talk to the baby, their baby, feeling her face wet with tears she didn’t realize had fallen.

“Fucking hormones,” she mutters.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

She’s eleven weeks and three days when it happens.

Her eyes open wide, giving her no time to adjust to the darkness of their bedroom when she feels a dull but strong cramp in her lower stomach. She’s been feeling them for days now and all the baby books she read told her it was normal and just her body’s way of adjusting to the baby’s growth. She blindly reaches for her phone, the light of her lockscreen telling her it’s 1:49am. She groans quietly, rolling onto her side, hoping to relieve some of the pressure.

She’s about to fall back to sleep when it hits her full-force.

She sits up in bed immediately, her hands fluttering to her stomach as her face twists into a grimace. “Come on, kiddo, what are you doing?” she whispers to herself, rubbing her small bump delicately. She glances over at her husband sleeping peacefully next to her, his hair in wild tufts as he snores lightly.

Let him sleep, her subconscious tells her. It’s nothing.

She decides maybe going to the bathroom will help relieve the pain, quickly shoving the covers off her legs. She stands and the cramping suddenly feels ten times worse as she takes deep breaths, struggling to make it to the bathroom. When she finally gets there, she closes the door. Then there’s silence.

A few minutes later, she screams.

Jake’s awake now, shooting upright and instantly scrambling towards the direction of his wife’s cries, throwing the door open and freezing at the sight in front of him.

Amy is on the tiled floor, legs pulled to her chest, her arms wrapped around herself, her small frame trembling. There’s toilet paper everywhere and her cheeks are streaked with tears and Jake is about to ask what the hell is going on when he locks eyes with his answer.

Through Amy’s legs, her pajama shorts are saturated with blood.

“I - need - I - something’s - wrong,” Amy gasps, squeezing her eyes closed in pain.

Jake snaps out of his daze and runs back into the bedroom, throwing on his hoodie and grabbing Amy’s fluffy bathrobe and a towel from the closet. He snatches his phone and his keys off the bedside table and sprints back into the bathroom, sliding down next to Amy.

“I’ve got you, come here,” he hushes her. He slings an am around her waist, lifting her up enough to slip the bathrobe over her shoulders and wrap the towel around her hips. “We’re gonna get you down to the car, okay? Can you walk?”

She takes a couple of steps, letting out a yelp and if Jake wasn’t holding her, she would’ve collapsed on the floor right then and there. “Hurts - it hurts - so bad - I can’t,” she sobs, her arms folding against her stomach protectively. “Jake - the baby-”

“Ames, the baby is fine, you’re fine,” he replies, trying to keep his voice as convincing as possible despite how much he’s panicking. He hooks his arm under her legs, picking her up bridal-style and carrying her carefully through the apartment. “Deep breaths, babe, you need to stay calm, freaking out is going to make it worse.”

He carries her out of the apartment, down the steps outside their building and sets her down gently to unlock the door from the passenger’s side. He quickly helps Amy into her seat, before slamming the door and running around to his side. 

“J-Jake,” Amy stammers as he gets into his seat. He looks at her and she’s curled herself into a ball, still holding her stomach. She’s terrified.

“You’re alright, babe,” he assures her, his voice breaking as he starts the car, reaching over the console to grip her hand, “it’s gonna be okay, I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

He helps her back into bed with the promise that he’ll just be in the next room. She doesn’t say anything. She hasn’t spoken since they left the hospital.

He’s not surprised.

He calls her parents first, the words he speaks leaving an unfamiliar and unwelcome taste in his mouth. They promise to get on a flight to New York later that afternoon, her mother rattling off a list of rescue remedies. Jake mentally stores them in the back of his mind, wondering how she could possibly know all these things will help when she’s the one whose had a 100% success rate with eight kids.

He calls his mom next, the sound of her sympathetic voice breaking him down bit by bit. He balances the phone between his ear and shoulder as he pours milk into his too-strong coffee. “This sucks, Mom.”

“Honey, I’m so sorry. Do you need me to come over? Or do you want me to make some meals? I can whip up my infamous chicken and pumpkin soup? Amy likes that, doesn’t she?”

Jake rubs his eyes tiredly, the sun beaming through the kitchen window much too bright for 6:53am. “Actually, yeah. The soup would be great, thanks.”

“Of course, sweetheart. So how’s she doing?”

“She’s...” he falters and lets out a long breath. “She’s completely shut down. As soon as the doctor told us - I mean, she hasn’t said anything since they discharged her and I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to help her or what to say or anything.”

“You just need to be there for her,” Karen replies as he takes his coffee into the living room and sits down, “she’ll talk to you when she’s ready.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“And how are you?”

Jake frowns into the receiver. “What do you mean?”

Karen sighs. “Jake, Amy’s not the only one in this. You have to take care of yourself too."

He considers her words for a moment. “I'm - it hurts, Mom,” he says honestly, “I mean, it wasn’t planned but we were still so excited and talking about all the things we could buy and looking at getting a bigger apartment and now it’s just...nothing.”

“I know, honey,” Karen says soothingly, “it will get better but right now, let yourself grieve. You’re allowed to.”

“Yeah. Hey, I’m gonna go see if Amy needs anything, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay, I love you.”

He hangs up and once again he’s alone with his thoughts. He knows that at some point this morning, he’s going to have to go into the precinct and tell Captain Holt. They can’t just not go to work without an explanation. But when he tries to write a mental script in his mind of how to say it out loud, every option makes the situation more and more real. Captain, Amy and I need some time off. Captain, something has happened.

Captain, we lost the baby last night.

It’s the last one that gets him, makes him curse under his breath as he feels the tears roll down his face. He lets out a frustrated groan, wiping furiously at his eyes and picking up his phone to check the time. He stands up to make his way to their bedroom but when he turns around, Amy is standing behind him, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her fingers grip the edges of the material tightly, her eyes red from lack of sleep and pure pain as she watches him stare back at her.

“Hey,” he says slowly, “I was just coming to check on you.”

She doesn’t respond, her chest rising and falling with shaky breaths. It only takes him one step towards her for her to let out a sob that breaks his heart and he crosses the room quickly the wrap her in his arms, holding her tightly as her walls finally come down.

He lets her cry, says nothing as she hyperventilates into him, her hands clutching his shirt as he cocoons her, wishing he could protect her from everything that’s happened in the past few hours. Eventually he moves her to the sofa, lifting her legs over his lap, draping the blanket across both of them. Her sobs subside and the only noises she makes are quiet sniffles and deep breaths to steady herself. He stays quiet, waiting for her to speak when she’s ready and at least twenty minutes go by before she says anything.

“I don’t know what to do, Jake,” she rasps, her voice weak.

He presses his lips into her hair, trying to think of all the ways he could possibly take all of her pain and throw it a thousand miles away. “You don’t have to do anything.”

She lets out a breath. “I just - I don’t know why. They didn’t know why. They couldn’t tell us. I thought - I thought I was doing everything right. Why - what’s wrong with me?”

He pulls back and looks at her tear-filled eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Ames,” he whispers, stroking her hair gently. “Absolutely nothing.”

“You said I’d be able to do it and - and I couldn’t. I...” she trails off, avoiding his gaze as a fresh set of tears falls. “I couldn’t carry our baby. I lost our baby. This is all my fault.”

He tilts her chin up to make her look at him. “Hey, it’s not your fault, don’t say that.”

“Then why? Why couldn’t - why couldn’t I do it?”

Her voice is grief-stricken and he’s silent for a moment, trying to formulate a response in his head. “When I was 7, before my dad left, my mom got pregnant. Yeah, I know,” he says in response to his wife’s eyes widening. “I remember her explaining to me that there was a baby in her stomach and I didn’t really understand anything, except the fact she would keep telling me “you’re going to be a big brother”. And then one day, she didn’t pick me up from school. She got our neighbor to take me to her house until my mom came home. And when she did - even though I was young, I knew something was up. And when she told me...” he shakes his head, staring at the coffee table deep in thought.

“She said - my little brother, or sister, decided it wasn’t their time. That they weren’t ready to come into the world. And - saying it out loud now, I think that’s what happened with our baby.” He looks down at Amy, his fingers playing with the feathery ends of her hair. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Ames. You did everything right. Our baby just wasn’t ready.”

He feels dampness on the sleeve of his shirt and he knows she’s crying again, so he pulls her impossibly close to his chest, closing his eyes as he rests his cheek against the top of her head, feeling tears of his own fall free.

“Look. We can try again. We can wait however long you want to wait. We’ll stick to your life calendar. Either way, I’m here with you, I’m here for you. I’m on your team. We’re gonna get through this, I promise you.”

It’s quiet for a moment and he thinks she’s fallen asleep until she speaks.

“I love you so much,” she whispers, her long lashes fluttering against his neck.

He kisses her hairline, his arms tightening around her. “I love you too. Always will.”

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. But they’ll be okay.

#b99 #brooklyn nine nine #jake peralta #amy santiago #jake x amy #peraltiago #b99 fanfiction #my writing #ya hey even i am crying #and i wrote this! #goodbye!!!!!!! #the desktop preview is FUCKED i'm sorry idk how to fix it #maybe read it on mobile-only????

[mexicaneurolover]

Eurovision 2008 my top 43

Hello, and welcome to another episode of this ESC top series, and I go back to May 20, 22 and 24, when the 53rd edition of the contest was held in Belgrade, Serbia, after Marija Šerifović’s victory in Helsinki last year. This year was the first to have 2 semifinals, in order to split the voting and to improve the chances of other countries, which IMO was the best decision ever made, also, MORE ESC SHOWS Y’ALL. While Austria withdrew from the contest, San Marino and Azerbaijan said hello and entered for the first time, making a total of 43 countries, the highest number of countries ever. The contest was won by Russia with Dima Bilan and the song Believe, making this their first ever victory and the last to date. And now, let’s review all the songs!

1st Place: UKRAINE/Ani Lorak-Shady lady (Real Placing: 2nd-230 points)

I must say that I’ve never though this would be my winner this year, but now I see it’s one of the best entries that year, her voice is so strong and the performance is so stunning, also she’s so beautiful and I love the music so much, this song inspires me so much and it’s very catchy. This should’ve been an amazing winner that night. 

2nd Place: PORTUGAL/Vânia Fernandes-Senhora do mar (Negras águas) (Real Placing: 13th-69 points)

AN EPIC SONG! Her voice is so perfect, the music is beautiful and the performance is so stunning, I don’t know how this song didn’t finish higher on the night, and finished below songs that are some serious business. I’M IN LOVE WITH THIS SONG.  

3rd Place: GREECE/Kalomira-Secret combination (Real Placing: 3rd-218 points)

Oh I love this song, the music has the Greek elements that I love in a pop song, also her attitude matches the song perfectly and she’s so beautiful, also I’m in love with her dress. The performance is so cool and yeah, a deserved 3rd place. 

4th Place: ISRAEL/Boaz Ma’uda-The fire in your eyes (Real Placing: 9th-124 points)

AWWWWW HIS VOICE IS SO KAJDJKKL, so sweet, he’s so handsome and this entry makes me feel tears in my eyes because it’s so beautiful, the music is very good and it makes me feel calm as well, the fact it’s in Hebrew makes this more stunning. 

5th Place: ARMENIA/Sirusho-Qélé, qélé (Real Placing: 4th-199 points) 

AN EPIC SONG, and one of my fave Armenian entries in the contest, her voice is nice, the music is so cool and I love the performance, she’s so stunning and it’s a very catchy song.  

6th Place: NORWAY/Maria Haukaas Storeng-Hold on, be strong (Real Placing: 5th-182 points) 

WHAT A SINGER SHE IS, the music is so lovely and her voice is so strong, the lyrics are good as well and wow, I’m impressed by this song, I love it so much and the performance is so memorable because of that hand movement. 

7th Place: SERBIA/Jelena Tomašević feat. Bora Dugić-Oro (Real Placing: 6th-160 points) 

Another magical Serbian song, the music is lovely and her voice is out of this world, the staging is so perfect for this song, I’m always speechless for this song, it’s so wonderful.  

8th Place: SWEDEN/Charlotte Perelli-Hero (Real Placing: 18th-47 points)

A former winner returning to the contest with a disastrous result, her voice is so good again as in 1999, the music is so good and I find it a bit nostalgic because it makes me cry, also the lyrics are relatable for me. Even if I would’ve preferred Sanna Nielsen, this song has charm. 

9th Place: SAN MARINO/Miodio-Complice (Real Placing: 19th SF1-5 points/last) 

WHY EUROPE WHY? This song is such a masterpiece, and it finished last in it’s semi? I can’t understand, the music is so nice and pleasant, his voice is soo cool and the performance is cute, also, a nice debut for San Marino. 

10th Place: MALTA/Morena-Vodka (Real Placing: 14th SF2-38 points)

I’m so crazy about this song, at first I found it weird, but now, it’s a guilty pleasure, the music is so awesome and epic, her voice is average but pleasant, also the performance is good. VODKA 

11th Place: ICELAND/Euroband-This is my life (Real Placing: 14th-64 points)

PURE EURODANCE, and I love this, they are amazing, the staging is effective and I’m in love with the music, also extra love for Hera Björk which is a backing singer. One of my favorite 00′s entries. 

12th Place: TURKEY/Mor ve Ötesi-Deli (Real Placing: 7th-138 points) 

Oh... THIS IS AN AWESOME SONG, I love this one so much, and the music is so perfect as well, so hypnotizing, and yeah, he sings so well and yeah, a strong rock song. 

13th Place: FINLAND/Teräsbetoni-Missä miehet ratsastaa (Real Placing: 22nd-35 points)

PURE ROCK FROM FINLAND AGAIN, the music is so perfect and the lead singer’s voice is so cool, I love the performance and wow, I don’t understand how this song finished so low. 

14th Place: BULGARIA/Deep Zone and Balthazar-DJ, take me away (Real Placing: 11th SF2-56 points) 

Wow, the music here is so crazy, has a lot of changes and that’s what I like about this one, her voice could’ve been better, but still, I love the performance so much and yeah, one of my fave Bulgarian entries ever. 

15th Place: ALBANIA/Olta Bolka-Zemrën e lamë peng (Real Placing: 17th-55 points)

Another lovely ballad with a rock touch that makes this so smooth, her voice is so good and the performance is so cute, and the chorus here is so powerful that it’s mesmerizing, what a beautiful song.  

16th Place: CYPRUS/Evdokia Kali-Femme fatale (Real Placing: 15th SF2-36 points) 

WHY? This song has some great Greek sounds to it, I love the music so much and her voice is so good, the performance is so lovely and I like this a lot. I love her attitude on the stage, also her dress is lovely. 

17th Place: POLAND/Isis Gee-For life (Real Placing: 24th-14 points)

Another lovely ballad, her voice is so cute and the performance is magical and precious, the music is so smooth and I’m in love with her dress, what a perfect show. Also the lyrics are so cute. 

18th Place: SPAIN/Rodolfo Chikilicuatre-Baila el Chiki Chiki (Real Placing: 16th-55 points) 

OH THIS ENTRY, IT’S SO GOOD AND BAD AT THE SAME TIME, this song is my childhood, the performance is so hilarious, the lyrics are so crazy and wow, the music is so 08. One of the first ESC entries I heard. 

19th Place: SWITZERLAND/Paolo Meneguzzi-Era stupendo (Real Placing: 13th SF2-47 points) 

An Italian song, and it’s so good, the key change is so brilliant and perfect, his voice could’ve been better actually, but still doesn’t change the fact that it’s a very good song.  

20th Place: ROMANIA/Nico & Vlad-Pe-o margine de lume (Real Placing: 20th-45 points)

A lovely ballad, his voice is so stunning, wish I could say the same about her voice, but still, I like it, the performance is so cute and he’s so handsome, the music is lovely and the lyrics are good as well. 

21st Place: FRANCE/Sébastien Tellier-Divine (Real Placing: 19th-47 points)

Another epic song, France sending joke songs is so weird, and this works so well for me, his voice is curious and I love the performance, the cart and the ball are perfect, as well as the backing singers, such a relaxing song. 

22nd Place: HUNGARY/Csésy-Candlelight (Real Placing: 19th SF2-6 points/last)

Many years ago I though this was boring, but now I appreciate this song so much, her voice is so good and her dress is lovely, an amazing performance as well. Also, she looks like Jamala doesn’t she?  

23rd Place: ANDORRA/Gisela-Casanova (Real Placing: 16th SF1-22 points)

Another song that I love from Andorra, her voice is so good and the music is lovely, my problem here is her dress, she looks like a leaf fairy, overall this song is so catchy and memorable. 

24th Place: SLOVENIA/Rebeka Dremelj-Vrag naj vzame (Real Placing: 11th SF1-36 points) 

This song is so catchy and I enjoy it so much, the singer’s voice is good and the music is good as well, the performance is good, so much green but the dancing is so memorable. 

25th Place: RUSSIA/Dima Bilan-Believe (Real Placing: 1st-272 points)

The winning song, and I have to say, it’s one of my least favorite winners ever, his voice is so annoying here, the performance is perfect, and the music is good, but still, I don’t think this was the right winner that year. 

26th Place: LITHUANIA/Jeronimas Milius-Nomads in the night (Real Placing: 16th SF2-30 points)  

This song is like something out of the Phantom of the Opera, his voice is so good, maybe the performance wasn’t the best, but the music is so perfect and I love it. 

27th Place: CZECH REPUBLIC/Tereza Kerndlová-Have some fun (Real Placing: 18th SF2-9 points) 

This is a very guilty pleasure for me, the music is so cool and her voice isn’t the best but I love this, the performance is so shiny and the lyrics are bad, but reminds me of the music I heard those years, I feel so old. 

28th Place: GEORGIA/Diana Gurtskaya-Peace will come (Real Placing: 11th-83 points)

Oh a heartbreaking and sad song, her voice is so good and the performance is amazing, the music here is very good as well, what a good song, I like it so much. 

29th Place: IRELAND/Dustin the Turkey-Irelande douze pointe (Real Placing: 15th SF1-22 points) 

Another entry that is very weird, and that’s what make me like it, the lyrics are so shady and funny, the performance is too much for me but this works for this song. 

30th Place: BELGIUM/Ishtar-O julissi (Real Placing: 17th SF1-16 points)

The music here is so good, and another imaginary language song, and it’s good because it’s so relaxing, maybe with another performance this would’ve been better.  

31st Place: THE NETHERLANDS/Hind-Your heart belongs to me (Real Placing: 13th SF1-27 points)

Another very good song with a nice singer and the music is so amazing, I think this song deserved so much more than it got, sadly, this was in a quite strong SF. 

32nd Place: UNITED KINGDOM/Andy Abraham-Even if (Real Placing: 25th-14 points/last) 

Aww the music here is so lovely, also he has a very strong voice and the performance was very good, I don’t understand why this came last because this had a lot of feeling on it. 

33rd Place: CROATIA/Kraljevi Ulice and 75 cents-Romanca (Real Placing: 21st-44 points)

I have to say that I love the old man on stage, and the music here is very good and it’s so soothing, also the voice of the lead singer makes me crazy, but there’s something here that impides me to place this entry higher, the last part of the song makes me smile although. 

34th Place: LATVIA/Pirates of the Sea-Wolves of the sea (Real Placing: 12th-83 points)

Another case of a very bad song that it’s so good at the same time, I enjoy it and makes me smile so much, the performance is everything here, I don’t know what to think of this, but I like it somehow. 

35th Place: DENMARK/Simon Mathew-All night long (Real Placing: 15th-60 points)

Aww this is a lovely song, sadly I don’t like it so much because there’s something in the music I can’t stand, he has a lot of charisma and he’s very cute, a simple song overall.   

36th Place: GERMANY/No Angels-Disappear (Real Placing: 23rd-14 points)

At first I loved this song because of the music, because it’s very good, but the voices are the problem here, also the performance was a bit of a letdown for a song like this. This song had a lot of potential, but it was wasted because of the show.  

37th Place: FYR MACEDONIA/Tamara, Vrčak & Adrian-Let me love you (Real Placing: 10th SF2-64 points)

This is a nice song, but maybe there were too many things happening at the same time in the song, the music is so good and they are amazing, but I can’t find a hook for me in this song. 

38th Place: BOSNIA & HERZEGOVINA/Laka-Pokušaj (Real Placing: 10th-110 points) 

Another song that is very weird, his voice is interesting and the performance captures me, but every time I try, I can’t like this song, I find it annoying and a bit exaggerated, still, the performance is memorable. 

39th Place: MOLDOVA/Geta Burlacu-A century of love (Real Placing: 12th SF1-36 points)

This song is like elevator music, relaxing and pleasant, but maybe too relaxing that it bores me a little bit, her song is very good but the performance was so weird, this needed a simple performance to improve it’s chances. 

40th Place: ESTONIA/Kreisiraadio-Leto svet (Real Placing: 18th SF1-8 points)  

WHAT IS GOING ON WITH THIS SONG, this is bad, but it’s too bad that is somehow good, at least this is a funny song because it has no sense, and the performance is really weird. 

41st Place: MONTENEGRO/Stefan Filipović-Zauvijek volim te (Real Placing: 14th SF1-23 points)

This is one of the songs I absolutely forget about from this year, the music is nice but this doesn’t go anywhere, his voice is cool but sadly, this song isn’t remarkable.  

42nd Place: AZERBAIJAN/Elnur & Samir-Day after day (Real Placing: 8th-132 points)

Oh no... this song is so weird for me, the music is good but sadly this has a lot of distracting elements and that makes the song a bit over the place, the performance is epic, and at some point I’m annoyed by their voices, an average debut for Azerbaijan IMO. 

43rd Place: BELARUS/Ruslan Alekhno-Hasta la vista (Real Placing: 17th SF2-27 points)  

This song sounds promising and the intro is wonderful, but this turn in a very annoying, mediocre and boring song, which is sad because this has potential. Also his pronunciation is bad and his voice isn’t pleasant for me.

#eurovision #luis' eurovision tops #eurovision 2008

[ispicynews]

Chef Saby returns with Saby’s Deli - Soulful Decadence

Chef Saby returns with Saby’s Deli – Soulful Decadence

Get a taste of Armenia in Delhi with mushroom manti and ponchiki, with chef Saby’s home delivery menu A subject that never fails to intrigue me is the way food crosses borders. Take Armenian food. Who would have thought that one day you’d get to eat dishes that are a part of life in the Eurasian country? But let’s not forget that India has old links with Armenia, ever since the first traders…

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#armenian food in delhi #chef saby #dining at home in delhi #home delivery of food #ponchiki in delhi #Rahul Verma #Sabyasachi Gorai

[middleeasternsarecool]

In no time at all, we went from being unknown to notorious. When I moved to Los Angeles in August 1977, perfectly intelligent, well-meaning Americans would ask me if we had roads and automobiles in Tehran, or if I had taken a camel to elementary school every day. The ones who did know Iran wanted to talk only about the ruins in Persepolis or Queen Farah’s jewels. Most people just couldn’t tell Iran from Iraq, Arab from Iranian, Shiite from Sunni. And they certainly couldn’t fathom such a thing as an Iranian Jew.

Oh, what a difference a year can make. By the summer of 1978, the high-rise condominium buildings in Westwood were filled to capacity with Iranians, and the kosher businesses in Pico-Robertson were tending to ever-increasing numbers of new customers. You would think this was a good thing.

Say what you will (and believe me, people do) about the way Iranian Jews have changed the social and economic landscape of Los Angeles; the place is a hell of a lot more interesting because of it. I know because I was here for the “before” pictures. My parents had a house in Trousdale since 1976; they had family in Pasadena and Beverly Hills. That’s how I learned about cream cheese, broccoli and “All in the Family” — we spent summers here, watched a lot of TV, and ate McDonalds a few times a week.

Before the Iranians came, Beverly Hills was a sleepy little village populated by cranky Eastern European Jews and polyester-clad Episcopalians from the Midwest. Hollywood was an embarrassing slum. Santa Monica was a communist enclave, downtown one large skid row. The food was rich, heavy and unsophisticated, fancy department stores catered to 80-year-olds, and you couldn’t breathe the air without risking lung cancer on any day of the week.

We can’t take credit for cleaning up the air, but with everything else, the sudden rush of a largely educated, well-off, and worldly people was a spark that lit up the region with much needed verve and color. The Muslims, who far outnumbered other Iranian immigrants, scattered across the state, from San Diego to Irvine to Palo Alto, from JPL to Google. The Armenians rebuilt Glendale. But, as for the Jews…

Not that the Ashkenazim see it this way, but Iranian Jews just about saved Jewish LA from the slow, quiet decline into which it had been pushed by increasing assimilation and growing indifference on the part of younger generations. In the early and mid-1970s in LA, the major synagogues on the West Side and in the Valley were beset by shrinking memberships, their day schools half full; Shabbat dinner was something you ate at Junior’s Deli on Pico or Nate ’n’ Al’s on Beverly Drive, and you had to be seriously observant to fast on Yom Kippur or eschew leavened bread on Passover. I exaggerate, of course, though not by much. And I generalize, but only to make a point.

Iranian Jews are the oldest population in the Diaspora. Neither Sephardic nor Ashkenazi, they’re correctly referred to as Mizrahi, or easterner. Iranian Jewish history dates back to 587 B.C.E, when Nebuchadnezzar destroyed the First Temple and brought the Jews as slaves into the area that was then Babylon and that, in time, became the great Persian Empire. When, in 539 B.C.E, Cyrus the Great issued the first declaration of human rights, giving the Jews freedom to return to Palestine and rebuild the temple, about half took his offer. The rest scattered across the empire, to the lands we know today as Turkey, Egypt, Iraq, Syria, Afghanistan and Pakistan and many, many more.

Most of the Jews in Arab countries were forced out by their governments at some time between 1920 and 1970. By contrast, the lot of Iranian Jews improved greatly in that period. Protected from the mullahs by the Shah’s father and later the Shah himself, they were, for the first time in 1,400 years, allowed to live freely and to prosper alongside other Iranians. Their exodus occurred in 1978; their chosen places of exile were New York and Los Angeles. You would think this was a good thing.

It was. For most of us Iranian Jews. It saved us once and for all from an existence that had been precarious from the start and remained so, even during the best of times — the reign of Muhammad Reza Shah Pahlavi — because even then, we were dependent for our safety on the good graces of one man. The Iranian Jewish migration came at an exorbitant cost — emotional and otherwise — to the first generation, and though that’s not to be taken lightly, in the long run we are all better off for it.

For us it was a blessing in disguise. We would hear many Ashkenazim say:

There’s too many of them, they have too many relatives, their kids are spoiled, their wives too entitled, the men are too competitive in business, they’re all looking for a bargain and when they get one, they ask for even bigger discounts and concessions.

There’s too many of them and they’ve taken over Beverly Hills and Brentwood and Encino and Sherman Oaks and all the schools and synagogues, they turn up in the hundreds every time one of them dies and clog up the parking lot at the mortuary then they sit shiva for a week and receive hundreds more every day and clog up the street with their Bentleys and Maybachs.

There’s too many of them and they know they’re not liked so they pretend they’re anything but Iranian, they started out telling us they were Greek or Italian and some still do but the rest have moved on to claiming they’re Persian as if that’s different, but it’s like saying you served sausage for dinner instead of hotdog.

Note, please, that I said “many,” not “all” Ashkenazim feel this way. I know because they’ve told me, more than once, that this is how they feel. They usually start it with, “Don’t take this the wrong way but…”

So what if every other physician in LA happens to be Iranian, they say, when I try to point out some of our better qualities, and that many of them are world famous for their contributions to research and treatment in their field; most of them are useless to the larger Jewish community because they marry Iranian girls and boys. So what if these doctors’ kids ace the SAT’s and land in the top universities of this country without the benefit of parents who are big donors or legacies; they’re dark skinned, their mothers speak Persian to each other, they eat dinner late, and have too many parties. So what if Sunset Plaza was just a few dry and dilapidated blocks east of the Roxy and the Rainbow until some Iranians developed the area and filled it with sidewalk cafes and shops; the place is crawling with sleazy old American sugar daddies and their young, blonde, Christian Louboutin-wearing Russian protégés.

For the record, I do believe we eat dinner late, and that our parties are too noisy and would go on till 3 or 4 in the morning if the cops didn’t come. Then again, the same natives who complain about Iranians having too many relatives and throwing too many large parties count on these traits in all their fundraising efforts. They’re always “honoring” one Iranian Jew or other, regardless of the real qualifications of the “honorees” because, wouldn’t you know it? You’ll fill up half the ballroom with his or her cousins, and the other half with his or her party friends.

The fact is, few people like having their backyards suddenly occupied by throngs of strangers, and all the more so if these newcomers look and act like nothing the locals have seen before. In the case of LA’s Iranian Jews, the culture shock to the natives was greater because the newcomers were unlike any previous group of immigrants: They weren’t poor, uneducated, lost and ashamed. If anything, they were too assertive, too proud of their cultural heritage, too determined to remain distinct and separate from the rest.

There were other differences, too: American Jews showed up on time for an invitation; anything else was considered rude. Iranians expected the guests to start arriving at least one hour late; they deemed being on time an imposition at best, irksome and inconsiderate under any circumstances. Americans ate dinner at 6 or 7 p.m.; Iranians started at 9 p.m. on a weeknight and 11 p.m. or later on weekends. So American guests left Iranian dinner parties hungry, and Iranian guests showed up when everyone else was on their way out.

And there were more serious grumblings: that Iranian Jews are cunning, sneaky, materialistic, vain, rude, intolerant and unwilling to assimilate.

I will say right now that some of us are those things.

I’m painfully aware that I’m about to raise the ire of many an Iranian Jew by merely admitting the obvious — that we are not individually, or as a community, perfect in any way — but that’s only because they know what I’m saying is true. You become like this — reluctant to show the laundry — when you’ve lived in hostile territory for 1,400 years. The world judges us harshly enough, you think, without one of our own giving it reason to. Except of course in this case, “the world” whose judgment we fear is other Jews.

So Iranians don’t talk about themselves in public unless the news is good, and Americans shy away from going on record with their feelings about Iranians for fear of appearing intolerant. At the risk of offending both sides at once I will go ahead and say that some Iranian Jews are deeply flawed, but so are some Ashkenazi and Sephardic Jews, and some Catholics and Protestants and Baptists and Unitarians.

What are the ultra-Orthodox, if not unwilling to assimilate? The bankers on Wall Street if not greedy and dishonest? All the East Coast “old money” if not vain, the West Coast “new money” if not materialistic?

You would think Jews know better than to condemn an entire community for the sins of one member. You would think Americans realize that, as with most things — good and bad — they do greed, dishonesty, and intolerance bigger, better, more spectacularly than anyone else.

“All the trouble in this town started,” an American Jewish woman said to me one night before a packed crowd, “when the Iranians came and started to build those big houses.”

The person who said this was hosting a literary event at which I was the speaker. We were at her house in Brentwood Park, one of those neighborhoods where zoning laws require that every lot be at least an acre in size. The house itself was easily 10,000 square feet. I asked her if it was built by an Iranian. It wasn’t. I asked if Brentwood Park was developed by Iranians. It wasn’t. I asked if it wouldn’t be fair to say that the natives like big houses as much as the newcomers.

“But they’re buying everything up and down the street,” the lady said.

Not all native Angelenos are as provincial as this person, of course. Many are warm and welcoming and eager to find common ground with newcomers. There are a number of good and wise Ashkenazi and Sephardic rabbis in this town, as well as a number of fair and tolerant Ashkenazi and Sephardic Jews, who have made it a mission to help the natives understand and accept the Iranians. I think their efforts have yielded results. Progress has been made; peace and reconciliation are within the realm of possibility. But it’s slow going — like the traffic in LA and, come to think of it, in Tehran.

The truth is, the Ashkenazim and Sephardim who dislike the Iranians do so not because of our differences, but because of our commonalities. We, Jews of all backgrounds, are not the easiest people in the world to live with. Many a Jewish comedian has made a living by pointing that out to us. We scramble and strive and aspire and resist. We’re resourceful and resilient. That’s the key to our survival and, often, our accomplishments. For whatever reason, the world has always held that against us and we, in turn, have held it against each other.

I don’t happen to care much for the entirety of the sentence, ”It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” of that very famous novel. It’s much longer and less elegant than these few words would have you believe, and the more it goes on, the less interesting it becomes. Dickens would have done well to stop at a good thing but he got paid by the word. Nevertheless I do appreciate the universal truth in the opening salvo — that good and bad, triumph and dejection, joy and heartbreak all exist within the same moment in every one of our lives. And I especially like the book’s title, “A Tale of Two Cities.” It reminds me of Jewish LA — the way I know it, and the way it must seem to the natives.

#Gina Nahai #Iran #Persian Jews #Iranian Jews #Jewish #Judaism #Mizrahi #Mizrahim #Sephardi #Sephardic #Sephardim #news #article #mod Mansour