This past summer I had a spontaneous opportunity to take a two-week trip to Israel. It was two of the most amazing weeks of my life. Not only is the country beautiful, the people friendly and the food delicious, I was able to encounter Israel alongside a close friend.

After a long eleven hour flight, squished in the middle seat of an economy section, we landed in Tel Aviv. After a day's worth of airport and airplane food, what better to do than eat?

Before experiencing Israel, I was quite ignorant of much of the culture (among other things). I was highly unsure of what to expect of the food. What culinary flare should I expect to encounter? Middle eastern? Mediterranean?

I’m a picky eater; would there be anything I like?

As the over one hundred people on the trip filed into the restaurant, waiters began to fill our table with salatim (an array of small cold salads) and piles of pita. Each salad looked familiar -- something that I may have eaten at home: salsa, carrot sticks, yogurt dip.

But they weren’t. Everything had a new Mediterranean and Middle Eastern flare. The dishes seemed to entangle flavors popular in both cuisines. All of the flavors were new, fresh, and refreshing.

What looked like salsa was actually matbucha, a blended salad of tomatoes, roasted bell peppers, onions, and garlic. The carrot sticks were pickled with a unique combination of spices like cinnamon, anise, and peppercorn. The dip was tehina, a sesame paste thinned with seasoned lemon juice.

Not just this meal, but a staple at most meals we enjoyed, was hummus. One of the first things our tour guide taught us that first night at dinner was how to properly pronounce hummus. “Who-moose” became part of our daily vocabulary during a majority of our meals in Israel.

If you think that the store bought hummus you like is the best, you have not had fresh hummus. The chickpeas are tastier, the texture more sincere. Since coming home, hummus is just not the same.

The most amusing part of every meal was when they would bring out one final addition to the salatim. While many of the meals we ate brought us far from home straight to the taste of Israel, undoubtedly a waiter would bring out the final dish and then there were french fries.