It seems like a long time ago, maybe even last summer, we packed 23 suitcases and moved to Israel. My husband brought a bicycle, a sup, five oars, and a drill. My teenage son packed a computer with a huge monitor, a comic book, and a school yearbook. And I took a pillow, my favourite spices, a multi-cooker, and a mixer. Only the cat didn’t take anything; he didn’t even have a suitcase. The multi-cooker came in handy very quickly. Our first apartment had windows with a stunning view of the sea, snow-white walls and a terrible old stove with a non-working oven. I really wanted to catch the feeling of home, and one day, I thought that there was an easy way: to bake something that I had cooked before, familiar, cosy and native. Something that can be made not only in the oven but also in a multi-cooker. And I remembered a simple recipe I once read from an Israeli author. The recipe called for a mysterious “Tsfat cheese,” and I used to replace it with Imeretian cheese. But now I can buy it too! The next day, I went shopping around the house. I didn’t speak Hebrew yet, but I recognized eggs and green onions anyway, and the shop assistants were happy to help me with the rest of the ingredients. While kneading the dough, I caught myself on a vague feeling of “rightness” — as if everything was already as it should be, and what was wrong would soon be. Half an hour later, the smell of baked goods floated through the house. Native and cosy, only now — with a stunning view of the Mediterranean Sea from the windows of our new home.