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With her ‘Totally Kosher’ cookbook, Chanie Apfelbaum aims for a wider audience
(New York Jewish Week) — Chanie Apfelbaum’s newest cookbook, “Totally Kosher,” is filled with many inventive, flavor-packed recipes, like “Miso Matzo Ball Soup,” “Berbere Brisket” and “Pad Chai,” a shrimp-free version of the Thai staple.
But while the book is designed for kosher-keeping observant Jews like herself, Apfelbaum — who boasts 101,000 followers on Instagram and runs the popular Jewish lifestyle blog “Busy in Brooklyn” — had a larger audience in mind. Her first book, “Millennial Kosher,” published in 2018, is now in its sixth printing and is available in just about every Judaica store across the country. With her second effort, however, “I wanted to reach a larger demographic,” Apfelbaum, 42, told the New York Jewish Week. “I wanted to reach people that don’t necessarily know what kosher is.”
That’s how Apfelbaum ended up publishing “Totally Kosher” with Clarkson Potter, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group and publisher of cookbooks by culinary megastars like Ina Garten and Alison Roman. When Raquel Pelzel, the editorial director of cookbooks at Clarkson Potter approached Apfelbaum in 2019 about writing a cookbook — pitched as a “celebration of kosher,” as Apfelbaum recalls it — she immediately said yes.
“I was so excited,” Apfelbaum said.
“We hadn’t published a kosher cookbook in a really long time and, with Instagram and social media, there is obviously a massive kosher community,” Pelzel told the New York Jewish Week. “To not publish a kosher cookbook seemed like a huge omission and a hole on our list.”
“When I scout for authors, I look for someone whose recipes look delicious, original and creative and who has a really strong voice and is clear who their audience is,” Pelzel added. “Chanie certainly has all that.”
Apfelbaum’s decision to go with a mainstream publisher mean the book would appear in “regular” bookstores — and not just Judaica stores — but the change meant some new challenges. One hurdle was the publisher’s decision to feature a large, color photo of Apfelbaum on the book’s rear cover — a decision that could be considered controversial in the haredi Orthodox world where many publishers refrain from showing photos of women in the interest of sexual “modesty.” (Apfelbaum’s photo does not appear anywhere in “Millennial Kosher,” published by Artscroll/Shaar Press, which serves the haredi market. A spokesperson for ArtScroll said that, to date, they have not featured any photographs of women in their cookbooks, but “we are not against putting pictures of women in our books.”)
“If my photo is on the back of the book, maybe the Judaica stores really won’t take it,” Apfelbaum recalled thinking when she was sent a mockup of the cover. “I called friends in the publishing industry. I called Judaica shops and asked if my photo is on the back cover, are you going to carry the book?” The answers, Apfelbaum said, were mixed.
And yet, she didn’t back down or ask for a change in the cover. “I was like — you know what? I’m doing this for my daughters, I’m doing this for the women out there,” she said. “There is nothing wrong with having a photo of a Jewish woman on the back of the book. I’m just doing it, and I stand behind it.”
Fortunately, validation came quickly. “When I walk down the street in my neighborhood [of Crown Heights], I pass Hamafitz Judaica and they have two books in the window — one of the front cover of my book, depicting my Pad Chai, and one of the back.”
Apfelbaum’s mother, Devorah Halberstam, a prominent member of Crown Heights’ Chabad community, couldn’t be prouder. Her first-born son, Ari Halberstam, was killed in 1994 when a Lebanese-born man shot at a van filled with Chabad Lubavitch students, killing Ari and wounding three others. In the aftermath, Halberstam fought tirelessly to have his murder formally classified as a terrorist attack, which eventually happened in 2005. She was also a founder of the Jewish Children’s Museum, which was dedicated to the memory of her son.
Of all people, Halberstam understands the power of a photo. “At Ari’s yahrtzeit [anniversary of his death], I tweet things out,” she told the New York Jewish Week, noting that her son died 29 years ago. “I got 85,000 responses because I put his picture up there. Pictures make you stop. They make you pause.”
Photos, she added, “personalize everything. A story is not a story without pictures. It makes it real. It comes to life.”
Apfelbaum agrees, feeling that her decision to include photos of herself, her boys in their tzitzit (ritual prayer fringes) and her children around a table, is “a huge step in the Orthodox world.”
“I’m doing this because I think this is something that has to change,” she said. “Jewish women should be celebrated just like men.”
As a child, Apfelbaum said, she was a rule-follower who was drawn to the creative world. “I got very into artistic projects for school,” she said. “I loved drawing and craftsy, artsy things.”
Apfelbaum’s culinary journey began in 2002 when she was 22 and newly married. Apfelbaum’s mother had been the chef in the Halberstam home, and Apfelbaum was raised on what she calls “brown food” — matzah ball soup, gefilte fish, potato kugel. She came to her marriage skilled as a web designer but not knowing how to boil an egg. Her Syrian/Argentian/Jewish mother-in-law introduced her to ingredients like rosewater and dishes like empanadas, piquing Apfelbaum’s interest.
“When I started cooking, I was always very artistic and looking for ways to put color in my food and plate it nicely,” said Apfelbaum. “I would make my mom’s recipes. But when I started hosting friends and putting out a spread, with menus and plated meals, I remember thinking, ‘Wow, this is beautiful. Such a beautiful way to express my artistic side.’”
When Apfelbaum left her web design job after the birth of her third child in 2010, she poured her creative juices into her nascent cooking and photography skills, and her family encouraged her to start her own blog. In 2011, she launched “Busy in Brooklyn” — at the time she was raising three children under 5, running a home and teaching Hebrew while taking knitting and crochet classes.
Her first post, in January of that year, was for sauteed chicken cutlets topped with canned dark sweet cherries. Later that year, she gave her first cooking class for the teachers at her children’s school.
In 2013, she enrolled in a program at the Center for Kosher Culinary Arts (now closed). “I started to seek out different cultural dishes and put my kosher Jewish spin on it,” she said. She also took a photography class.
The following year, her recipe for “Drunken Hasselback Salami” — a whole salami sliced, coated in a sauce of jam, brandy and mustard, then baked until crispy — went viral. Later that year, she was featured on the front page of the Wall Street Journal for her creative spins on the traditional Ashkenazi Hanukkah treat, latkes. In 2015, she made the first of many out-of-town food demonstrations, traveling to Montreal to prepare harissa chicken sliders with preserved lemon carrot slaw and a marble halvah mousse.
These recipes, among others, made it into “Millennial Kosher.” And although Apfelbaum swore that she would never write another cookbook because of all the work involved, that call in 2019 from Clarkson Potter made her rethink her decision. Apfelbaum’s global recipes — such as “Nachos Bassar,” nachos with hummus, Israeli salad and pickles — and how she “bounces off of trends that are happening in social media, in restaurants,” as Pelzel describes her, are what drew the mainstream publisher to Apfelbaum
“From the first time I met Chanie, I understood why she was the obvious choice to make kosher cool,” Apfelbaum’s mentor and fellow cookbook author Adeena Sussman told the New York Jewish Week via text. “She’s wildly passionate about her food and her Judaism, and makes no apologies for either.”
“Add to that her natural warmth, sense of humor and willingness to share the ups and downs of life with her followers, and you’ve truly got a recipe for success,” Sussman added.
And there have been plenty of ups and downs: After signing her book contract in 2019, Apfelbaum became a single mom due to divorce. She was also hospitalized with COVID-19 (as was one of her kids) and lost her sense of smell and taste, at a time when nobody knew that this was a side effect of the virus.
Fortunately, Apfelbaum has since regained her sense of taste and smell, and she remains very busy in Brooklyn — and elsewhere. In July, she is leading a food tour in Italy where her group will make gelato, hunt for truffles and taste olive oil. She hopes to continue culinary travel in the future. She has just come out with a line of her own spices called TK (as in “Totally Kosher”) Spices; her first two products are the Yemenite spice mix, hawaijj — one for savory foods and one for coffee, which has a sweet profile. With “Totally Kosher” now in its third printing, she is looking to (finally) hire an assistant and find work space outside of her home.
“There were many times I said I don’t have the emotional bandwidth and strength to do this book — I wanted to give up,” Apfelbaum said. “My friends believed in me and pushed me and made it happen. When I look at this book, I see so much more than recipes. It was really a journey for me.”
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Nearly forbidden: Street signs in an ‘unwanted’ language
דער קינסטלער שעבעשטיען פֿיומײ איז, אײן זוניקן טאָג אין פֿרילינג 2021, געשטיגן אױף אַ לײטער און אױפֿגעהאָנגען אַ װײַסן גאַסנשילד מיט ייִדישע אותיות׃ „גרענאַדיערשטראַסע“. װען נישט דעם אַלף־בית װאָלט פֿיומײס קונסטװערק געװען אַ צװילינג מיטן אָפֿיציעלן שילד דעריבער, װאָס װײַזט אין גלחות דעם הײַנטיקן נאָמען פֿון דער גאַס אין צענטער בערלין׃ „Almstadtstraße“.
גרענאַדירשטראַסע איז ביז 1938 געװען די באַרימטסטע „ייִדישע גאַס“ אין דער שטאָט, ספּעציעל בײַ ייִדיש־רעדערס. דער דײַטשמערישער אױסלײג מיטן שטומען „ע“ שטאַמט פֿון אַ ייִדישן שילד װאָס מ׳האָט אַ מאָל אַרױסגעהאָנגען אױף נומער 31, פֿאַרן „האָטעל אָדלער“.
אין אָט דעם איבערגעפּאַקטן בנין האָט מען נישט נאָר געקענט אײַנשטײן אין אַ פּיצל האָטעל, נאָר אױך קױפֿן גרינסן אין אַ שפּײַזקראָם, עסן אין אַ כּשרן רעסטאָראַן, לערנען חומש אין אַ תּלמוד־תּורה, לערנען גמרא אין אַ בית־מדרש – און דאַװענען אין אַזש פֿיר שטיבלעך!
פֿיומײס אומלעגאַלן גאַסנשילד האָט די נאַטשאַלסטװע גיך אַראָפּגענומען. אַ פֿונקציאָנאַר פֿון קװאַרטאַל־אַמט, נתּן פֿרידנבערג, איז אָבער מסכּים געװען מיט פֿיומיין אַז מע דאַרף סוף־כּל־סוף אָנערקענען די קולטורעל ייִדישע „אָסטיודן“ (די אַמאָליקע מיזרח־אייראָפּעיִשע ייִדן), נישט נאָר די אַסימילירטע „יעקעס“. און מע דאַרף געדענקען ווי ייִדן האָבן געלעבט, נישט בלויז ווי זיי זענען אומגעקומען. צוזאַמען מיט אַ היסטאָריקער פֿון „צענטרום יודאַיִקום“, דזשעס ערל, האָט פֿרידנבערג געפּרוּװט אָרגאַניזירן אַן ענלעכן זכּרון־שילד. נײן, צען אַזעלכע – אױף צען שכנותדיקע „ייִדישע גאַסן“.
ס׳איז נישט געװען פּשוט. דער װײַסער קאָליר, װי בײַ די „װאָרע“ גאַסנשילדן? פֿאַרבאָטן. דאָס װאָרט „שילד“? פֿאַרבאָטן. דאָס װאָרט „קונסט“? פֿאַרבאָטן אָן אַ קונסט־פֿאַרמעסט. ייִדיש גופֿא איז שיִער נישט פֿאַרבאָטן, װײַל אין דײַטשלאַנד איז דאָס נישט קײן אָנערקענטע מינאָריטעט־שפּראַך.
נאָך פֿינף יאָר מיט אַפּליקאַציעס און קאָמפּראָמיסן האָבן ערל און פֿרידנבערג אין מאַרץ אָרגאַניזירט אַ „פּרעסע־טערמין“ אױפֿן ראָג. די שלײער איז כאָטש אײן מאָל אַראָפּגעפֿאַלן אין װינט אײדער מע האָט אָפֿיציעל אױפֿגעדעקט דעם ערשטן „גאַסנצײכן“, װאָס מע טאָר נישט אָנרופֿן קײן גאַסנשילד׃ „גרענאַדיערשטראַסע“ אין אַ נײַער שריפֿט מיט פֿיומײס אױסלײג אױף אַ בלאָען הינטערגרונט. אַ צװײטער „צײכן“ דערקלערט דעם װיץ אױף דײַטש און ענגליש; אַ קו־אַר־קאָד פֿאַרלינקט אַ נײַ באַלערנדיק װעבזײַטל מיטן קעפּל „נעלם געװאָרן אָן אַ שפּור?“
צװישן די בערך 30 צוקוקערס – אַרײַנגערעכנט פּאָליטיקערס און רבנים – זענען כאָטש פֿיר ייִדישיסטן געװען אין עולם׃ אַ ייִדיש־פּאָעטעסע, אַ ייִדיש־קינסטלער, אַ ייִדיש־פֿאָרשערין און אַ געװעזענע ייִדיש־פּראָפֿעסאָרשע. אַלע האָבן זיך געפֿרייט צו זען די ייִדישע אותיות אױף דער אַלטער ייִדישער גאַס. בײַ דער טריבונע האָט מען אָבער נישט געהערט קײן וואָרט ייִדיש.
„אַװדאי נישט“, האָט מיר דזשעס ערל געזאָגט אָן חרטה. „די שפּראַך איז נישט דער עיקר. מע דערמאָנט זי בלױז װען ס׳איז טאַקע נײטיק.“ אױפֿן ענגלישן װעבזײַטל געפֿינט מען דאָס װאָרט Yiddish ערשט האַרט בײַם סוף פֿון אַלפֿאַבעטישן גלאָסאַר. נתּן פֿרידנבערג, להיפּוך, האָט געבעטן מחילה און צוגעזאָגט צו באַטײליקן ייִדיש־רעדערס אין צוקונפֿטיקע אונטערנעמונגען.
װער אָדער װאָס איז נעלם געװאָרן? רובֿ ייִדן אין הײַנטיקן דײַטשלאַנד זענען אימיגראַנטן פֿון מיזרח־אײראָפּע אָדער זײערע קינדער. די ייִדיש־זינגערין סאַשע לוריא, למשל, אַ געבױרענע פֿון לעטלאַנד, האָט זיך באַזעצט אין נױקעלן, אַ בערלינער אימיגראַנטן־קװאַרטאַל אַזױ װי די ייִדישע גאַס פֿון אַ מאָל. דאָרט האָט זי מיט די חבֿרים אױפֿגעבױט אַ באַלעבטע ייִדיש־מוזיק־סבֿיבֿה. „איך פֿיל זיך פֿאַרבונדן מיט די אַמאָליקע ייִדן פֿון אָט די גאַסן“, זאָגט לוריא. „זײ דערמאָנען מיך אין מײַנע קרובֿים.“
די סבֿיבֿה אין נױקעלן האָט דערפֿירט צום גרינדן אַ קולטור־אָרגאַניזאַציע, „שטעטל בערלין“, מיט כּסדרדיקע פּראָגראַמען און אַ יערלעכן פֿעסטיװאַל. אױך די פּאָעזיע־ און קונסט־סבֿיבֿה אַרום „ייִדיש.בערלין“ איז פֿיבעריש־פֿלײַסיק. (איך אַרבעט צוזאַמען מיט בײדע גרופּעס.) אין מאַרץ למשל זענען אין דער שטאָט פֿאָרגעקומען אַ כּליזמר־דזשעם־סעסיע; אַ שבת־טיש מיט פֿריש פּובליקירטע ייִדישע לידער; אַ ייִדיש־זינגערײַ; קאָנצערטן פֿון כאָטש דרײַ קאַפּעליעס; אַן אָװנט פֿון „שמועס און װײַן“ — אַ ייִדישער שמועסקרײַז אין אַ שענק; אַ רובריק װוּ ייִדיש־פּאָעטעסעס לײענען די ווערק פון אַנדערע ייִדיש־פּאָעטעסעס; װײַטערע לײען־ און שרײַבקרײַזן…
„אונדזער סבֿיבֿה האַלט אין װאַקסן“, זאָגט לוריא. „אַלץ עפֿטער הערט מען בײַ אונדזערע אונטערנעמונגען אויך שמועסן אויף ייִדיש.“
נישט אַלע „װאָרע“ גאַסנשילדן אין דײַטשלאַנד זענען בלױז אויף דײַטש. סוף מאַרץ בין איך מיט אַ געדונגענעם אױטאָ געפֿאָרן אָנדערטהאַלבן שעה קײן לאַוזיץ/לוזשיסקאַ, אַ ראַיאָן פֿון דײַטשלאַנד װוּ מע רעדט צװײ אָנערקענטע סלאַװישע מינאָריטעט־שפּראַכן׃ אונטער־סאָרביש (װענדיש) און אױבער־סאָרביש. אַרױספֿאָרנדיק פֿון שאָסײ האָב איך דערזען אַ שילד פֿאַר אַ דאָרף מיט צװײ נעמען, אַ דײַטשן און אַ סאָרבישן. אױך אַלע גאַסן האָבן צװײ נעמען. אָבער הערן האָב איך דעם גאַנצן סוף־װאָך אין ערגעץ נישט געהערט קײן סאָרביש װאָרט – ביז מיר זענען אַרײַן אין װענדישן מוזיי אין קאָטבוס/כעשעבוס.
במשך פֿון דער געשיכטע האָט דײַטשלאַנד אונטערגעדריקט די סאָרבישע שפּראַכן. פּרײַסן האָט אַרױפֿגעצװוּנגען אױף די סאָרבן דײַטשע נעמען. די נאַציס י״ש האָבן פֿאַרבאָטן פּובליקאַציעס און פֿאַרטריבן די גלחים כּדי צו פֿאַרדײַטשן די קלױסטערס. מיזרח־דײַטשלאַנד האָט באַזעצט דײַטש־רעדנדיקע פּליטים אין סאָרבישע דערפֿער און צונױפֿגעמישט די אַרבעטערס אין קאָלװירטן. עד־היום האָט מען חרובֿ געמאַכט 130 סאָרבישע דערפֿער לטובֿת די קױלנגריבער.
די ראָלע פֿון דײַטשלאַנד אין דער געשיכטע פֿון ייִדיש – דאָס מאַמע־לשון פֿון 85% פֿון די קדושים – קענען מיר שױן.
אונטער־סאָרביש האָבן סאָרבן אױפֿגעהערט איבערצוגעבן בירושה; אױבער־סאָרביש הערט מען נאָך בײַ געצײלטע קאַטױלישע משפּחות. פֿאַר בײדע שװעסטער־שפּראַכן האָט מען שוין אָבער דורכגעפֿירט ממשותדיקע צילן אויפֿצולעבן דאָס לשון׃ ביזן יאָר 2100 האָפֿט מען, אַז עס וועלן זײַן אַזש 100,000 סאָרביש־רעדערס!
הײַנט האָט דאָס סאָרבישע פֿאָלק מיט זײַנע צװײ לשונות געוויסע רעכט און דעריבער — געלט און אינסטיטוציעס. פֿאַראַן אַ מין סאָרבישער ייִװאָ (װאָס בײַט גערן דעם אױסלײג פֿון סאָרביש); צװײ קינסטלער־קאָלעקטיװן („קאָלעקטיװ.װאַקוּום“ און „נײַע סאָרבישע קונסט“), קאַפּעליעס, קינדער־גערטנער, אײַנטונק־פּראָגראַמען, אַ פֿאַרלאַג, צװײ מיטלשולן, און באַצאָלטע אַרבעט…
דער סאָרבישער ייִװאָ האָט אָנגעשטעלט צװײ לינגװיסטן, שימאָן בלום און עװאַן בליקלי, צו דאָקומענטירן די „לינגװיסטישע לאַנדשאַפֿט“. אױף זײערע ביציקלען האָבן זײ פֿאָטאָגראַפֿירט יעדן סאָרבישן גאַסנשילד אין 70 דערפֿער. „װען איך האָב צום ערשטן מאָל דערהערט קינדער רעדנדיק אױפֿן לשון“, דערצײלט בליקלי, „האָב איך זיך כּמעט צעװײנט.“
דער סאָרבישער קינסטלער בערנהאַרד שיפּער האָט מיר געזאָגט אַז די שילדן זענען אים „גאָר װיכטיק“. אַזױ װײס מען אַז ס׳איז דאָס סאָרבישע געביט. „דאָס פֿאַרשטײט זיך אַלײן.“
די סאָרבישע שילדן האָבן אױך אינספּירירט מיעטאָ נאָאַק, דעם אַמאָליקן פֿאָרזיץ פֿונעם מינאָריטעטן־סעקרעטאַריאַט װאָס פֿאַרטײדיקט אַלע זיבן דײַטשע מינאָריטעט־שפּראַכן. קינדװײַז האָט ער אַ מאָל באַמערקט אַזאַ שילד, און שפּעטער זיך אױסגעלערנט אונטער־סאָרביש און געװאָרן אַ שפּראַך־אַקטיװיסט.
אין זײַן ענטפֿער אױף מײַן בקשה האָט נאָאַק געשריבן׃ „כ׳האָב זיך שױן אָפֿט געפֿרעגט פֿאַרװאָס ייִדיש איז נישט קײן מינאָריטעט־שפּראַך אין דײַטשלאַנד. אין אַכט אײראָפּעיִשע לענדער איז עס יאָ אַזוי.“
אױף אַ שפּאַציר לענג־אױס גרענאַדירשטראַסע האָב איך דערצײלט נאָאַקן מעשׂיות פֿונעם ייִדישן אַמאָל און דעם ייִדישיסטישן הײַנט. האָבן מיר זיך אַװעקגעזעצט בײַ אַ קאַפֿע לעבן דעם שילד. קוקנדיק אױף די פֿאַרבײַגײערס האָט ער פֿאַר מיר אַנטפּלעקט די סודות פֿון מינאָריטעט־שפּראַכן און באַשלאָסן צו שרײַבן אַן אײגענעם אַרטיקל װעגן די ייִדיש־שילדן – אױף אונטער־סאָרביש.
אַגבֿ, אין פֿרילינג 2021 האָט פֿיומײ נישט נאָר אונטערגענומען זײַן קינסטלערישע אינטערװענציע. ער האָט אױך מיט זײַן מיטװױנערין עליאַנאַ דזשײקאָבס לאַנסירט אַ פּאָליטישע קאַמפּאַניע לטובֿת ייִדיש װי די אַכטע מינאָריטעט־שפּראַך פֿון דײַטשלאַנד. די לעצטע מעלדונג אויפֿן אינפֿאָרמאַטיװן פֿייסבוק־זײַטל לכּבֿוד דעם דאָזיקן אויפֿרוף שטאַמט פֿון יענעם אָקטאָבער, נאָר די צען נײַע שילדן האָבן באַנײַט די דיסקוסיע.
„לאָמיר פֿאָרט אויפֿלעבן די קאַמפאַניע!“ האָט מיר דזשייקאָבס געזאָגט.
„ס׳איז אַ גאַנץ רעאַליסטישער געדאַנק“, האָט סאַשע לוריא מסכּים געווען.
הייסט עס, אין לעצטן סך־הכּל, איז ייִדיש אין בערלין טאַקע נישט נעלם געװאָרן.
The post Nearly forbidden: Street signs in an ‘unwanted’ language appeared first on The Forward.
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The ‘godfather of denim’ was an Italian designer whose Jewish father was murdered at Auschwitz
(JTA) — Adriano Goldschmied became known as the “godfather of denim” for elevating jeans from casual wear to a luxury staple. His own father’s story was equally riveting.
Goldschmied, who died April 5 at 82, following a battle with cancer in a hospital in Castelfranco Veneto, Italy, credited himself with founding or developing at least 50 brands, including Diesel, AG, Replay, Gap 1969, A Golde and Goldsign.
He was just an infant in 1944 when his Italian Jewish father was arrested by the Nazis.
Goldschmied’s mother, Sofia, was in hiding with his sister at the time of his birth on Nov. 29, 1943, in Vico Canavese, Italy. The Nazis had invaded Italy just months earlier.
His father, Livio, had joined the Italian resistance after the Nazis took over. When he tried to visit his wife, daughter and newborn son, he was apprehended en route. One of six people with his last name deported by the Nazis via Milan’s central station, he was ultimately sent to Auschwitz, where he was killed several months later.
According to a testimony made by a survivor to Yad Vashem, Israel’s Holocaust center, Livio was denounced by a midwife and received permission to visit his son briefly after his arrest. The testimony, which cannot be independently verified, said he had rejected an offer to move to the United States to work with the physicist Enrico Fermi because he would not have been able to bring his family, and had also declined an opportunity to escape from the train that took him to Auschwitz.
Following the war, Goldschmied moved with his mother to Trieste. He later spent a stint pursuing skiing in the 1960s in Cortina, the ski resort in the Southern Alps.
He did not speak readily about his family’s Holocaust history, and unlike his sister, he did not connect with his Jewish heritage. Diana was responsible for installing Stolpersteine, small memorials embedded in sidewalks documenting the Jews who lived at that address before the Holocaust, to commemorate their family members who were murdered.
“Like my father, my brother was a man of great intelligence and extraordinary intuition,” Diana told the Italian-Jewish news outlet Moked. “However, he did not want to talk about our family history. I think memory was working inside him, though.”
Goldschmied got his start in fashion in the 1970s, when he launched his shop, King’s Shop, in Cortina d’Ampezzo, and started a denim line, Daily Blue.
“That first production was going to a fabric store in my hometown, buying crazy fabrics for a very high price and going through manufacturing with my tailor,” Goldschmied told Women’s Wear Daily in 2023. “The product was extremely expensive, and in some way, I created a premium denim by accident.”
In 1981, Goldschmied went on to found the Genius Group, a collective that backed emerging labels like Diesel, Replay and Goldie.
Among Goldschmied’s innovations throughout his career were the development of the stonewash technique, experimenting with Tencel fibers, creating super-stretch denim and pioneering sustainable production methods as early as the 1990s.
“He was the architect of a global staple,” Mariette Hoitink, the co-founder of House of Denim, told Women’s Wear Daily. “Adriano didn’t just design jeans; he orchestrated the greatest transformation in the history of apparel. He was the singular force who elevated denim from rugged workwear into a global fashion staple.”
Goldschmied is survived by his wife, Michela; his daughters Sara, Marta and Glenda; two grandchildren; and his sister.
“Adriano and I led very separate lives,” Diana told Moked. “I rediscovered my Jewish identity. He took a different path, but everyone carries the past within them.”
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
The post The ‘godfather of denim’ was an Italian designer whose Jewish father was murdered at Auschwitz appeared first on The Forward.
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Not Stupidity — Something Worse: Why the ‘Israel Controls America’ Myth Keeps Spreading
US President Joe Biden and Democratic presidential candidate and US Vice President Kamala Harris react onstage at the Democratic National Convention (DNC) in Chicago, Illinois, US, Aug. 19, 2024. Photo: REUTERS/Kevin Lamarque
In a recent post, Donald Trump took aim at Tucker Carlson, Megyn Kelly, Candace Owens, and Joe Kent, calling them “low IQ” and “losers,” and asking — between Carlson and Kent — “who is dumber?”
It was vintage Trump: blunt, theatrical, and calibrated to dominate a news cycle with a single line. He has long relied on that instinct — to compress a dispute into something sharp enough to stick. But beneath the spectacle sits a more serious issue.
The problem is not intelligence. Many of these figures are clearly relatively smart. The problem is that they — along with a growing chorus of voices on the political left such as Ana Kasparian, Cenk Uygur, and Mehdi Hasan — continue to advance a claim that collapses under minimal scrutiny. Strip away the stylistic differences, the accents, and the partisan framing, and the argument is identical: “Israel controls the United States,” or in its updated form, “Benjamin Netanyahu controls Donald Trump.”
That claim has resurfaced repeatedly over the years, sometimes dressed in more sophisticated language, sometimes stated outright. What makes its latest iteration notable is not merely its persistence, but where it is now being voiced.
This weekend, Kamala Harris, speaking at a Democratic fundraiser in Detroit, said that Donald Trump had been “pulled into this war” by Benjamin Netanyahu. That phrasing carries a clear implication: that the president of the United States — the commander-in-chief of the most powerful military in the world — is not acting independently but is being maneuvered into conflict by a foreign (Jewish) leader.
When this idea circulates on the fringes, it is dismissed. When amplified by pundits chasing attention, it’s often ignored. But when it’s echoed, even cautiously, by a former vice president and major presidential candidate, it crosses a different threshold. At that point, the claim can no longer be dismissed as noise. It has been normalized.
This is not a new idea. It is one of the oldest political accusations in circulation, and it is remarkably easy to test against reality. Only last week, Trump effectively dictated that Israel must accept a temporary ceasefire with Hezbollah — an outcome widely opposed within Israel, where many believe the campaign should be completed and remain skeptical that the Lebanese state will ever disarm Hezbollah. If Israel were directing American policy, that outcome would not occur.
Historically, the “Israel controls America” claim has appeared in different ideological forms but with identical substance. On the far-right, figures such as David Duke have advanced it explicitly. On the far-left, figures like Cynthia McKinney have repackaged it in political language. The wording changes, but the core allegation remains the same: that American power is not sovereign, but subject to external — specifically Jewish — control, echoing Henry Ford and his “International Jew” conspiracy theories of the 1920s and 1930s.
The argument collapses as soon as one examines scale and structure. The United States is a $27 trillion economy with unmatched global reach across military, financial, technological, and diplomatic domains. It maintains a permanent seat on the UN Security Council and leads a network of alliances that spans continents. Israel’s economy, by contrast, is approximately $700 billion. Its military is highly capable, but it is not a global force. It does not control sea lanes, command multinational coalitions, or set the terms of global finance. The disparity is not marginal; it is foundational.
This asymmetry is not unique. The United States maintains deep strategic relationships with many smaller allies such as South Korea, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, and Kuwait. In fact, the United States fought a war to liberate Kuwait in 1991, sustaining approximately 150 American combat fatalities in the process. Yet, almost no one claims Kuwait controls Washington, or that Saudi Arabia dictates US foreign policy. Only one small ally is routinely described in those terms.
The historical record reinforces the absurdity of this Israel “controls” America trope.
In 1956, despite repeated attacks on Israel from the Sinai and Egypt-controlled Gaza, Dwight D. Eisenhower forced Israel to withdraw from Sinai following the Suez Crisis; Israel complied. In 1982, Ronald Reagan pressured Israel to halt operations in Beirut, facilitating the evacuation of Yasser Arafat and the PLO leadership to Tunisia. In 1991, George H. W. Bush asked Israel not to respond to Iraqi Scud missile attacks to help preserve the US-led coalition; Israel absorbed 39 Scud strikes, 13 deaths, and stood down.
In 2015, Barack Obama advanced the Iran nuclear deal despite sustained Israeli opposition. Under Joe Biden, Israeli operations in Rafah were delayed for months under US pressure despite Israeli hostages being held there and its centrality to Hamas’ military infrastructure.
More recently, on June 24, 2025, as a Trump-negotiated ceasefire was taking effect, Iran launched multiple ballistic missiles at Beersheba, killing four Israelis. Israel prepared a large retaliatory strike. Trump intervened and effectively ordered Israel to turn its planes around.
This is what an unequal alliance looks like: coordination, pressure, and at times outright constraint. It is not a relationship where the far smaller country exercises “control.”
So why does the claim persist? Not because it is analytically persuasive — but because it is emotionally effective. Political narratives built on grievance often prefer simple explanations to complex realities.
It is easier to attribute outcomes to hidden manipulation than to acknowledge the interplay of strategic interests, risks, and constraints that define foreign policy decision-making.
There is also a deeper historical layer. For centuries, European political culture absorbed and transmitted variations of the same vile accusation: that Jews operate behind the scenes, exercising covert and pernicious influence over institutions and leaders.
So, when modern commentators repackage that idea — whether in the language of “influence,” “lobbying,” or outright “control” — it does not enter a neutral environment. It lands on fertile soil, reinforcing a long-established and familiar narrative.
Since World War II, the claim hasn’t changed — only its migration from the margins into the mainstream. And once it crosses that threshold, it stops being rhetoric and starts shaping behavior.
As it did in Germany after World War I, if a significant number of people come to believe that their government has been captured, that their leaders are not acting independently but are controlled by a nefarious external force, the range of conclusions and actions they will justify or rationalize expands dramatically. History offers no shortage of examples of where that logic can lead.
Trump attempted to reduce this to a punchline. But this is not a matter of tone. It is a warning sign. And this time, it is coming from closer to the political center than it has in a very long time.
Micha Danzig is an attorney, former IDF soldier, and former NYPD officer. He writes widely on Israel, Zionism, antisemitism, and Jewish history. He serves on the board of Herut North America.