This post honors the memory of Azura, the place and the man who passed away.
Every Friday, I post about places, memories, buildings, and symbols of Old Jerusalem from the last centuries. Jerusalem does not only mean stones, but above all, it is the people who make this city so special because, in the end, everything is about people.
This week’s post is dedicated to Jerusalemites and former Jerusalemites whose senses store precious memories, sights, and tastes that will never be forgotten.
In memory of the Azuroas.
In the Machane Yehuda market, there were 2 Azuroas. One was the small Azura juice shop of the late Ezra Nakash, which was located on the main street and sold lemonade, black coffee, tamarind juice, and almond juice those who tasted will never forget. The second Azura was a working-class restaurant and institution. It was founded in the early fifties, then developed in the last decade, and became a hot spot for immigrants from all over the country, and many Tel Avivians who came to Jerusalem on Friday afternoons.
Azura (Ezra Scherpler) was born in 1933 in Diyarbakır, Turkey, and immigrated to Israel in 1949.
His family stayed in the Atlit immigrant camp. From there, they moved to the Greek colony, near Emek Refaim.
As the eldest son, he had to take care of his family, so he worked as a dishwasher in one of the restaurants in Mahane Yehuda.
Azura later worked at Rahmo, a well-known Jerusalem eatery selling hummus, rice and beans in plastic bags.
At first, he didn’t have much success in his career. In time, under Rahmo’s guidance, who was like a father to him, Azura started the tradition of cooking homemade food for which he remains so well known to this day.
Azura moved from several places until he settled in a tiny restaurant near the Iraqi market. The restaurant had 4 old white Formica tables, old iron chairs, and an overall old appearance.
The smell coming from the kitchen stimulated the taste buds of the guests who were waiting in line at the entry door.
After a table was cleared and cleaned with a rag, you could go down the stairs to reach the restaurant that probably only measured 20 square meters, sit down on the damp table, and begin the feast.
Azura stood behind the counter always smoking a cigarette, wearing a coat and a woolen hat. Behind him, you could see pots on kerosene heater wicks with food that had been prepared at dawn and was heating up since four o’clock in the morning.
Simple iron cutlery, pieces of onion and chipotle pepper in an old-fashioned metal saucer, hot pita bread from the nearby bakery … that was it. When the food arrived at your table, every bite was a delight.
Words are too limited to describe the taste and smell. Those who ate there can agree, and those who haven’t missed out on something truly unique.
Fine meat sofrito, bloody eggplant moussaka in tomato sauce, which melted in your mouth with every bite, Turkish eggplant, several types of koba, oxtail soup, rice with beans, and the best hummus in town.
The portions were limited based on the size of the pot and each day’s demand.
Whoever arrived on time was lucky.
When a customer was late and asked for a dish from the menu, the answer was “finished”, so he had to eat what was left in the other pots because it was all a matter of timing.
Towards half past three in the afternoon, all the pots were empty, the iron shutter was lowered, causing a great noise, and the celebration was over until the following day at three in the morning when Azura started cooking again.
The place was a magnet for Jerusalemites, including Yossi Banai and others, politicians who came from the nearby Knesset, state presidents, lawyers, and a few other regulars.
The place offered an authentic and excellent culinary experience at the highest level, with no frills, large investments, or PR.
Some of Azura’s children also worked in the restaurant, and in 2009 when the market developed, the restaurant moved to a much larger place located nearby. Later, it spread to the other side of the yard, becoming a point of interest for tourists from Israel and abroad.
More family members joined the restaurant team and Eliran, Azura’s son, also opened a branch in Tel Aviv, bringing the Jerusalem gospel to the city.
This type of old Jerusalemites represent a generation that is gradually disappearing. They are a generation of hard workers who show modesty, simplicity, and local Jerusalem-style humor, people like them gave this city its special color and character. These people who founded the country are gradually making room for the next generation.
As the great Yossi Banai wrote, remember for blessing
At Azura’s restaurant
In the small market behind me
The big market
I saw in the kitchen
Pots on top of wicks
Many longings sought
A little heat on a small fire and that’s it
The smells of potatoes
The rice, and meatballs
The spinach that penetrated my nostrils,
Gave me back my mother for a moment,
As I move toward her
I’ll never stop walking.”
Thus wrote Yossi Banai, the boy who grew up nearby, in the Mahane Yehuda market, on Hags Street 1, near the poultry slaughterhouses.
You can take people out of Jerusalem, but you can’t take Jerusalem out of people.
This is our Jerusalem — tamarind juice with Turkish borax, kerosene heaters turned on at four in the morning that slowly heated magical and delicious dishes, politicians enjoying a sofrito sitting next to hungry patrons at white Formica tables, customers who ate quickly because there were other people in line, and Yossi Banai who missed Old Jerusalem.
We miss it too. The taste buds and smell receptors do not forget, and I would give a lot right now for a plate of sofrito with rice, thin brown noodles, and mosca in a thick, steaming tomato sauce.
Slow food at its best, as opposed to the fast food of this era.
Shabbat of peace to the far and near Jerusalem
תצלום מרפי כפיר
