“Give Me More Spicy” – A Song of Praise for Courage, Ego, and Fateful Choices
How a burnt spoonful of sahug can become an international diplomatic event
The most dangerous sentence ever uttered at a falafel stand
“Put me some more spicy.”
A simple sentence. Short. Direct. But like every great story in the Middle East – underneath the surface, there are forces, tears, sweat, and reflux.
Because the moment you say it out loud, in front of the seller sweating over the shawarma, you declare something profound about yourself:
I take risks. I am willing to pay the price. I am not afraid of pain. I am… a true Israeli.
The evolution of masculinity – from kiddush to spicy
In ancient times, a man was measured by the number of children he fathered. Later – by the number of kilometers he fought in the reserves. Today? By how much spicy he can put in a pita without collapsing into an ambulance.
And the women? They have long since outpaced the men with a jar of Ethiopian sehug in one hand and a spoonful of aresa in the other, laughing at the boys who only “taste a little and choked.”
Spicy is the new measure of courage – or stupidity, depending on who you ask.
There’s nothing like a spicy sauce to explain Israeliness
The spicy sauce is the perfect metaphor for who we are:
- A little too much,
- A little annoying,
- Heart-burning when it insists on staying,
- But somehow – you can’t stop loving it.
The spicy sauce doesn’t come to appease. It comes to declare: I’m here. I’m felt.
Like that uncle at the holiday table who yells at everyone but always brings the tastiest salad.
The Psychology Behind the Madness
Why do we actually say “give me more spicy”, even when there’s already enough?
The answer is simple: a pose.
It’s a way of saying: “I’m not like everyone else”.
I am the real hero of this pita.
I’m not excited. No sweating. No wiping your nose after one bite.
I’m a spicy fighter.
And the truth? It always ends the same way:
First bite – “Ugh, that’s a bummer.”
Second bite – “Hot, but good.”
Third bite – “Does anyone have a tissue?”
Fourth bite – “Where’s the nearest bathroom?”
The Diplomacy of the Spicy Man – Testimony from the Field
You enter a shawarma stand. The vendor already knows you:
– “Regular, bro?”
– “No, this time… Give me more spicy.”
His eyes widen. The silence stretches. Then comes the assessment:
“Are you sure, man?”
Because spicy, like a military operation, begins with the mistake of someone who didn’t read the fine print.
And once the words are spoken – there’s no going back.
It doesn’t matter if you’re sweating through your ears. You’re obligated to pretend you’re having fun.
It’s national pride.
Political Harif – When the Sauce Meets Identity
Have you noticed that what you choose – sahug, arisa, green harif, green amba – is also a small political statement?
Green sahug? You’re probably from the center, secular, with a slight penchant for cold coffee.
Arisa? Periphery, proud bibist, and a homebody at barbecues.
Spicy, very spicy? A settler, or at least you served in Magellan.
Spicy Amba? You’re not here for the spicy at all. You came to beat the whole system.
Give me more, but a little
Of course, there’s also the hypocritical version:
“Give me more hot… but a little.”
What does it mean? That you want the credit, without the suffering.
You want to look like a warrior – but get out of it in peace.
(Hint: It won’t happen. The sahug will find you, even if you spread it under the cabbage).
The younger generation – the engineered hot
Today’s youth are not content with pita bread. They make challenges:
“Who can survive the longest without water after shawarma plus double hot plus a dip in Tabasco.”
Sitting in the living room with cameras, counting the minutes.
And the winner? Gets the nickname: “Lord Sahug.”
And this is the generation that will bring peace?
Well, at least it will burn the ground – literally.
The hot we built
Ultimately, “Give me more hot” is not just a culinary request.
It’s a statement of identity.
This is our way of saying:
“I can handle life – even if it burns my throat.”
It is an expression of stubbornness, of pride, of courage, and of an aftertaste.
Because we are a people who survived two thousand years of exile – and today we are dealing with the real thing:
Pita with everything.
And more spicy.
Thank you. No need for a napkin. Just another sip of water. Or milk. Or eye drops.
And remember: He who does not sweat – does not truly live.
הירשמו כדי לקבל את הפוסטים האחרונים אל המייל שלכם
