The Möst Indulgént Ice Cream of Summer 2025
THICK MILK CHOCOLATE COATING
CRISPY KUNAFA CRUNCH
RICH CHOCOLATE ICE CREAM
CREAMY PISTACHIO SWIRL
THE CATSKILLS' CROWD PLEASER
More fun, more flavor, more room for all.
Camps and crowds, Casa Cava has the space and speed for your party.
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DON’T SWEAT THE FAST
RICH WITH ENERGYBOOSTING ELECTROLYTES FOR PRE AND POST-FAST FUEL.
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PACKED WITH VITAMINS
OUTSTANDING FLAVOR
טלעווק ךייא
Improves digestion Boosts energy Supports bone health Relieves acidity
Helps with weight loss
MURRAY’S KOSHER SOCKS
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ATLANTIC
Atlantic
Atlantic
Atlantic
Atlantic Sides
Ground
Mountains Sides
Mountains Slices
BABY SALMON
Baby Salmon Cubes
Baby Salmon Side
Baby Salmon Sides Skinless
Baby Salmon Slices
Baby Side Skinless
Mountains Sides
Mountains Slices
$12.99/lb.
$9.99/lb.
$13.49/lb.
$11.99/lb.
$15.99/lb.
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$14.99/lb.
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$10.99/lb.
$12.99/lb.
$14.49/lb.
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$15.99/lb.
SCOTTISH SALMON SUSHI GRADE
Scottish Slices
Scottish Stake
WILD KING SALMON
$29.99/lb.
CARP
Carp Slices $12.99/lb. Winter Carp $12.99/lb.
BRONZINO
Bronzino Fillet $24.99/lb.
Whole Bronzino $13.49/lb.
GEFILTA FISH
20oz Rolls
$18.49/lb.
$15.99/lb.
WHITE FISH
White Head
2 Slices White Fish
$2.99
$12.99/lb.
Ground White Fish $14.99/lb. White Fish Tail $12.99/lb.
PIKE SKIN
$3.99 Per Tray [About 1/2lb]
LOX FISH
Comes In Trays 1 or 2-3lb $24.99/lb.
TURBOT Fresh Turbot $19.99lb
FRESH FLOUNDER
Flounder Fillet
$21.99lb Flounder Whole $11.99/lb.
TILAPIA
Fresh Tilapia
MAHI MAHI
Mahi Mahi Slices
SEA BASS
Sea Bass Slices
TUNA
Sushi Grade
$9.99/lb.
$14.99/lb.
$38.99/lb.
$32.99/lb. Frozen Tuna $11.99/lb.
BULK FROZEN
$5.99
Sneezing
Catskills Emergency Numbers
HATZALAH: 718-387-1750 • 718-230-1000
Bikur Cholim of Catskills
888-354-2627
Chaverim 718-431-8181
Poison Control
800-222-1222
Center for Disease Control ���������������������������800-232-4636
AAA Road Services 800-222-4357
Zmanim Hotline
Sullivan County
AMBULANCE
Catskill Regional Medical Center 68 Bushville Rd (Rt 17 -Ex 102)
Harris
718-331-8463
845-583-7100 or 911
Ulster County 845-338-3700 or 911
Hudson Valley
NON EMERGENCY
845-292-3040
Ellenville
845-794-3300
Bikur Ch New Sq 888-354-2627
Comm Liason (for summer): Yoel Moshe Fried 347-407-0792
Chesed Room: 4th Floor, Rm 455
Ellenville Community Hospital (Rt 209) Ellenville
Orange Regional Medical
845-647-8181
Fallsburg 845-434-2008
Liberty
Monticello
Swan Lake
Woodbourne
Woodridge
Cocheton
Ellenville
Fallsburg
845-295-0236
845-794-6330
845-292-6918
845-434-6763
845-434-6893
POLICE DEPARTMENT
845-794-7100
845-647-4422
845-434-4422
Liberty 845-292-4422
Livingston Manor/Rock Hill/ Swan Lake/White Lake
845-794-7100
Loch Sheldrake 845-434-4422
Monticello 845-794-4422
Mountaindale
845-434-4422
Woodburne 845-434-4422
Woodridge 845-434-6644
STATE POLICE
Ferndale
845-292-6600
Ellenville 845-626-2800
Liberty
Wurtsboro
Sullivan County
Ulster County
SHERIFF
845-292-6600
845-626-2800
845-794-7100
845-338-3640
HOSPITALS
Bon Secours Comm Hospital 160 East Main Street Port Jervis
845-647-6400
707 East Main Street Middletown 845-333-1000
Arden Hill Hospital
4 Harriman Dr Goshen ������������������������������������ 845-294-5441
Comm Liason Joel Friedman: ����������������������347-482-5388
Bikur Ch: Rm 163, Follow Blue signs from E R
Horton Medical Center
60 Prospect Ave Middletown 845-343-6161
Comm Liason Joel Friedman 347-482-5388
Kosher Refrigerator in Maternity Unit on 2nd fl Bikur
Ch: Ground fl next to the Fish Wall
URGENT CARE
Asisa Monticello, NY 845-419-1000
Chai Care
5208 Main St, S Fallsburg 845-409-2424
Dr Rosenfeld
97 Laurel Ave S Fallsburg 845-436-6027
Maimon Care
432 NY-52, Woodbourne 845-436-6666
ODA Monticello
60 Jefferson St� Monticello
ODA Woodridge
845-794-5090
6 Dairyland Rd Woodridge 845-434-2060
Parcare
Ichud Bungalow Colony Ent 2, Rt 42 718-500-0369
Refuah Health
36 Laurel Ave S Fallsburg 845-482-9394
845-858-7000
Emergency Room: 845-858-7030
St Luke Newburgh Hospital 70 Dubois Street Newburgh 845-561-4400
BUS SERVICE
Catskills Emergency Numbers
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AIRPORTS
Stewart International Airport
Windsor NY
845-838-8200
Sullivan County International White Lake 845-583-6600
BIRTH CERTIFICATES
Cochecton
Fallsburg
845-932-8360
845-434-8810
Liberty 845-292-5110
BUILDING PERMITS
x303
845-783-8300 x3 Thompson
845-794-2500 x321
CITY COURTS
Bethel ������������������������������������������������������������������� 845-583-7420 Cochecton 845-932-8360 Fallsburg 845-434-4574
845-794-7130
SUPREME COURTS
Orange
DEPARTMENT OF HEALTH
TOURIST
PASSPORT OFFICE
MARRIAGE LICENSE
845-583-4350 x11
845-932-8360 x11
DISTRICT ATTORNEY
845-794-3344
845-340-3280
POST OFFICES
Monticello - 486 Broadway 845-794-7498
Mongaup Valley - 933 State Route 17B ����� 845-791-5956
Parkville - 12 Cooley Road 845-292-5451
Rock Hill - 240 Park Hill Drive ���������������������� 845-796-4535
South Fallsburg - 55 Railroad Plaza 845-434-9116
Ellenville - 1 Liberty Square 845-647-9584
Napanoch - 7500 State Route 209 845-647-4249
Middletown - 40 Fulton Street 845-341-1568
Monroe - 787 Route 17M ���������������������������������800-783-7827
Kumzitz Around the campfire
Stories that make the song play in your head and morph into something greater than the sum of lyrics and melody; an impetus for introspection and growth.
ROUGH TRANSLATION:
I yearn for the sweetness of Shabbos, That reflects and unites with Your chosen people.
Draw down the delight of Your reverence
To those who seek Your will.
Sanctify them with the holiness of Shabbos,
United with Your Torah.
Open for them the pleasure and favor
To unlock the gates of Your will.
Guard and protect those who watch
And await Your holy Shabbos.
Like a deer longs for streams of water,
So their souls yearn to receive the sweetness of Shabbos,
United with Your holy name.
Save those who might stray
From separating from Shabbos,
So it not be withheld from them.
For six days receive holiness from Your holy Shabbos,
And purify their hearts in truth and faith to serve You.
May Your mercy be showered on Your holy people,
To quench the thirst of those longing for Your kindness
From the river that flows from Eden.
Crown Israel with splendor,
Those who glorify You through Shabbos,
To inherit the portion of Yakov, Your chosen one. Shabbos is the delight of souls,
The seventh, a delight of spirits,
A bliss for souls to be refined
In love and awe.
Holy Shabbos — my soul is sick with love for You.
Holy Shabbos — the souls of Israel
Find refuge under Your wings, They are nourished from the richness of Your house.
I yearn for the sweetness of Shabbos
That mirrors and unites with Your chosen ones.
The lyrics for this song were created by R’ Aharon Hagadol of Karlin. The melody is a traditional Karliner niggun that was passed down through the generations.
AS TOLD TO ESTY STEINMETZ
I was sipping my third coffee for the day when inspiration struck.
“Hey,” I excitedly called to my chavrusah, Avrumi, as I jostled down the aisle, elbowing boys and
shtenders to get the coffee to my place intact.
Avrumi raised one eyebrow.
“We’re going out after morning seder,” I announced dramatically.
“We’re going where?”
I raised my voice to be heard over the weary whir of the the air conditioner fighting a losing battle, and the hum of bachurim loudly arguing pshat.
“I said, we’re going out. We can all use a break, and we have two hours free today.”
“Where exactly do you want to go?”
I heaved an impatient sigh. “Anywhere! Ooh, I have the perfect thing. We’ll go to that beautiful lake and trail, you know, the one just outside of Yerushalayim, near Hadassah hospital.”
“The Jerusalem Springs Trails!” Avrumi’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, great idea.”
I nudged the two bachurim sitting in front of us.
“Hey, Shimon, Ari, we’re going to the Spring Trails after seder, you’re in?”
“Yes!” They pumped the air.
“Mechaye. Now that that’s settled, let’s learn,” Avrumi said cheerfully, opening the gemara with a flourish.
It was a geshmake learning seder, as if our little excursion had already invigorated us before it began.
We grabbed some water bottles and chips, and last minute Shimon hoisted his guitar on his shoulder.
“Nothing like a kumzitz outdoors,” he explained. We arrived just as the bus pulled up and enjoyed the short, panaromic ride. We stepped off into another world.
The water was a sparkling sapphire, glinting in the sunlight, rippling softly in the breeze. Tall green trees swayed in a canopy above, and mountains beckoned in the distance.
The place was quiet, deserted—just us and the chirping of birds.
“Wow,” Avrumi whistled. “Taam gan eden.” He dropped onto the ground next to the water, and we all followed suit, closing our eyes.
“Oy, Koh echsof,” we sang, arms around each other, mouths open imploringly in song, eyes squeezed tightly closed, bodies swaying to the breathtaking melody.
We lingered on the final notes, hesitant to let go, like these final moments when Shabbos is departing.
The world was bright, alive, sun blinding our eyes. The water lapped calmly, singing in its own rhythm the sweetness of Shabbos.
For a minute, no one spoke. The minute felt too sacred to interrupt with simple words.
And then we heard a crackle of twigs, and a man was before us. He was tall, clean-shaven, bareheaded, dressed in shorts and jeans. And he had tears in his eyes.
“That song,” he said wonderingly. “That was beautiful.”
We just looked at him, too stunned to answer.
“Could you sing this for my father? He’s very sick. I just stepped out of the hospital for some fresh air, it’s a few minutes away, and found you singing. It would mean so much to my father.”
We looked at each other. Shimon shrugged, carefully placing his guitar back into its pack and returning it to its perch on his shoulder. I looked at the chevrah. Ari was nodding earnestly. Avrumi’s eyes sparkled.
“Sure,” I said
The man nodded. “Thank you, boys. Thank you.”
We followed him down the path towards the hospital, the glorious outdoors ceding to the defeated walls of the hospital looming up ahead, a parallel universe. We stepped inside, and were immediately hit by the strong antiseptic smell, jarring after the sweet scent of dew and grass.
The man nodded to the people at the front desk. “They’re here to visit my father,” he said. The security people nodded and waved us through.
And then Shimon removed his guitar and softly tugged at the strings.
“Koh echsof noam Shabbos,” he hummed as he coaxed the music from the strings, fingers nimbly creating magic, the stirring, heartfelt melody echoing in the surrounding vastness.
The music was poignant and awe-inspiring, compelling us to sing along. I wasn’t normally one to sing along in a kumzitz, but this wasn’t just any kumzitz.
Before long, I found myself mouthing along as well, at first quietly, tentatively, and before long, belting out the words of the chorus loudly.
We followed him down long hallways, and he finally stopped at a door. He rapped lightly before pushing it open. I stood for a moment at the door before cautiously stepping in.
The man in the bed was elderly, his face lined, eyes closed. He was hooked up to various machines.
“Abba,” the man called gently.
His father opened his eyes and smiled tiredly.
“Dudu, you’re back? And who are these people?”
His eyes traveled to the kippahs on our heads, the white shirts, and the black pants. His gaze was indiscernible.
“They came to sing for you, Abba.” Dudu
explained.
Shimon removed his guitar reverently and struck up the first notes of the song again. And suddenly, the hospital faded away, and the magical aura of before pervaded the room.
We sang it once, and then again, time suspended.
And when the final notes died down and I opened my eyes, I was surprised to feel moisture in the corners of my eyes.
I was even more astounded to see tears in the eyes of the patient on the bed.
His eyes were still tightly closed, and copious tears coursed down his cheeks.
“Abba?” Dudu stroked his father’s hands, concern in his eyes.
His father opened his eyes and looked at us through a glassy haze of tears.
“This song brings me back to my childhood. I grew up in a frum home, and my father sang this song every Friday night. Ach, Shabbos.”
His voice trailed off weakly. He coughed, and Dudu rushed to adjust the cushion and help him sit up.
“What I wouldn’t do to have one more Shabbos like the ones from my childhood,” he continued weakly. We leaned in, straining to hear every word.
“To feel connected to my creator once again.”
His eyes were open, but faraway, seeing straight through us to a world that was.
“Boychicks. Teyere kinderlech,” he said softly, the words incongruent with the bare-headed, whitehaired man he had become. “Can you please sing the song again?”
We sang the song we had sung so many times before, the words taking on new meaning as our voices soared.
“Sanctify them with the holiness of Shabbos united with Your Torah. Open for them the pleasure and favor to unlock the gates of Your will… Save those who might stray from separating from Shabbos…and purify their hearts in truth and faith to serve You.”
I peered at the old man from time to time. The tears dripped down his shrunken cheeks as he mouthed along the words.
We finished the song, and I looked at my watch. It was time to go if we wanted to be back in time for our next seder.
“I’m sorry, but we need to get going,” I said apologetically.
Father and son thanked us warmly, and we walked down the hallways and outside, blinking in the sudden sunlight. We felt different somehow, like we had entered as innocent yeshiva bachurim and emerged older, wiser.
We started the trek back to the springs, back to where the bus would pick us up.
And suddenly, we heard panting and a voice behind us.
“Wait, wait a minute!”
We looked at each other, eyes reflecting the question marks in our minds. Did someone else want us to sing for them? We really didn’t have time; we had to head back to yeshiva.
But when the man rounded the bend, we recognized him. It was Dudu.
But he looked different somehow, face red, eyes shining with a wild fire.
“My father just passed away,” he gasped.
We stood stock still, the enormity of his words punching us in the gut.
“Baruch dayan haemes,” I whispered, unbidden moisture filling my eyes again.
The man nodded somberly.
“He was frum as a boy. And your singing - you brought him back to the Shabbos of his childhood. You brought him back to his pintele yid.” His voice broke.
“I’m not frum, but it means so much to me that my father merited to do teshuvah in his final moments. Thank you, boys.”
He turned and hurried away.
We looked after his retreating figure, minds whirling, emotions spinning.
The approaching bus beeped in the distance. But we couldn’t just board the bus and head back to our regular, uneventful routine.
Not just yet.
We were shocked, overwhelmed, new, unfamiliar emotions rising that we didn’t know how to define or push away.
We looked at each other, and as one, we knew what to do.
We all linked arms, looked up at the bright blue sky, and started singing yet again.
“Koh Echsof.”
*Have a story you want to share? A website or ad for your business that’s waiting to be written? Esty Steinmetz is a writer and copywriter who can be reached at esty@estysteinmetz.com
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