Enjoy the Best Beachside Dining at Manta Ray Restaurant

Manta Ray is a local favorite in Tel Aviv. With its glass-walled interior and tables outside in the sea breezes, it capitalizes fully on its setting, a few yards from the Mediterranean. Manta Ray’s specialty is of course fish: sea bream, croaker, tuna, sea bass, calamari, shrimp, scallops, crab—you name it—served in any number of ways: in a risotto; with a fennel and kohlrabi salad; in a stew of coconut milk, lemongrass, and curry paste. 

“This pièce de la résistance is a cauldron brought to your table, overflowing with seafood claws and tails and emitting intoxicating whiffs of shallots, white wine, and the sea.”

One item on the menu is called simply “Fish in a black cast-iron pot.” This pièce de la résistance is a cauldron brought to your table, overflowing with seafood claws and tails and emitting intoxicating whiffs of shallots, white wine, and the sea.

Owner Ofra Ganor and chef Ronen Skinezes ensure Manta Ray is a “grabber”: it has the beach, the sunset, excellent food, and a comfortable feeling of home.

But in fact, there are few restaurants in Israel that don’t feel homey—even the most elegant are warm and easy, with a lack of pretension that seems distinctly local. Some customers may dress for dinner, but others, inevitably, will show up in jeans and T-shirts.

Food is the central focus—often served, it must be said, in huge quantities (we have learned to share portions whenever possible). There is a pervasive air of generosity, and a genuine desire on the part of the restaurant staff for you to sample and appreciate what they have to offer. (Echoes of the classic Jewish mother’s exhortation: “Eat!”)

Manta Ray >

Manta Ray restaurant. Photos by and courtesy Avi Ganor

Akko’s Uri Buri: Fish Directly from the Sea

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Uri Buri: Fish and Seafood cookbook published by Uri Buri Publishing

There is one place in Akko that you are sure to have regular reveries about, long after you return home from Israel. The fish restaurant Uri Buri sits next to the port, in a crumbling Ottoman stone building with high, vaulted ceilings. Each dish at Uri Buri relies on the daily catch and the offerings at the nearby market. Flavors seem to be enhanced when dishes are presented beautifully—but without too much primping—as they are here. While chef Uri Jeremias creates many elaborate dishes with great flair, he clearly likes simplicity best: fresh anchovies, grilled with just a touch of potent olive oil; barramundi pan-cooked in butter with a few sage leaves and a squeeze of lemon; raw crabmeat, carefully removed from its shell and served without any garnish whatsoever.

“Uri’s preference is to speak to his guests and get to know them a little—what they like and don’t—and then send out dish after dish from the kitchen, building an evening’s experience for them.”

Although the restaurant of course has a menu, Uri’s preference is to speak to his guests and get to know them a little—what they like and don’t—and then send out dish after dish from the kitchen, prescribing and building an evening’s experience for them, generally moving from the lightest flavors to the richest. Many of Uri’s dishes draw on his imagination—paper-thin sashimi with an explosive green wasabi sorbet; sea-wolf with chestnut-pumpkin purée; baby tilapia (known here as musht, or St. Peter’s fish) on cubes of red beet and caramel; a dreamy seafood-and-coconut-milk soup laced with ginger, curry, basil, and cilantro—the list goes on.

Making a comprehensive listing of The Great Restaurants of Israel would be like trying to grasp the tail of a beautiful bird in flight. The point we want to make here is that Israel has come to a new understanding about food, offering the best of its many hybrid culinary traditions and—in the hands of great talents like Uri Jeremias, Duhul Safdi, Rama Ben-Zvi, Erez Komarovsky,  and others—brilliant gastronomic innovation.

Uri Buri >

The Culinary Improvisations of Erez Komarovsky

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Erez Komarovsky in a still from the film The New Cuisine of Israel.

Erez Komarovsky is a man who naturally brings together all the best aspects of food. Erez built his reputation as a baker; he is credited with instigating Israel’s “bread revolution” some twenty years ago. Bakers tend to be a finicky and exacting breed, but on the afternoon we spent in his kitchen, few ingredients were measured out: dishes were tossed together by hand, tasted frequently, thoroughly enjoyed, and lightning bolts of inspiration were accepted as a matter of course. In the film The New Cuisine of Israel you will get to visit him at his beautiful home at Mitzpe Matat in the Upper Galilee, overlooking Israel’s border with Lebanon. We had the privilege of visiting him there to cook and eat, but our day with Erez began early, at the marketplace in Akko.

“Erez brings a spirit of improvisation, integrity, and exuberance to the experience of food.”

We met for breakfast at the busy Sa’id hummus shop, where the waiters  clearly knew Erez and gave him a perfunctory nod. From there, we strolled over to the market fishmongers, who glanced at Erez askance as he inspected their wares, seeking out the brightest eyes and scales, the bluest claws, the perfect aroma—that is, a slightly salty non-aroma in the case of the freshest fish. He spoke with them in Arabic, asking (it was clear) what other fish they had in the back, then examining that secret stock with a raised eyebrow and haggling like the pro he is, and finally coming away with a couple of pounds of blue-silver calamari and a weighty, sparkling sea bass, which he hefted matter-of-factly into an ice cooler in the back of his truck.

About an hour’s drive to the north, Erez showed us around his beautiful, somewhat chaotic stone home. We wandered the tiers of his vegetable patches, carrying baskets and filling them with dark-red cherry tomatoes, kale, Thai basil, scary-looking tiny hot peppers, Jerusalem artichokes, and more.

Working with whatever he has at hand, Erez riffs like a brilliant jazzman. His kitchen is light and open and well stocked, although like many cooks, he mostly uses only a few favorite tools. The mortar and pestle are indispensable (everything from basil and garlic to peppercorns is purposefully smashed), as are a couple of good, super-sharp knives.

Just before the bass, onions, tomatoes, kohlrabi, basil, and crushed salt and pepper were flung in the taboon, they received a liberal drizzling of honey from the hives of the beekeeper down the road and olive oil from a neighbor’s press. Sometime later, greens, vegetables, and fish were piled into a gorgeous knoll on a platter, and we sat down to a truly unforgettable meal.

Erez brings a spirit of improvisation, integrity, and exuberance to the experience of food. We think that is the finest way to cook and to eat.

Sa’id Hummus >

Stills from the film The New Cuisine of Israel, available with the purchase of The Desert and the Cities Sing: Discovering Today’s Israel.

Hotelier and Restaurateur Uri Jeremias

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Uri Jeremias of Uri Buri restaurant and Efendi Hotel, Akko. Photo by and © Vision Studio

Uri Jermias (owner of Uri Buri restaurant and the Efendi Hotel , both in Akko) is a formidable figure: tall, broad, white haired, with a benevolent face and a white beard that reaches to his waist. Uri is nearly always visible at his restaurant, moving pots and pans in the kitchen with the assurance of a masterly orchestra conductor, or strolling among the tables advising guests about how to structure their meal.

“Uri Jeremias is nearly always visible at his restaurant, moving pots and pans in the kitchen with the assurance of a masterly orchestra conductor.”

Like Erez Komarovsky, Uri is a consummate and resourceful extemporizer. His chief collaborator is the sea. Like all great cooks, Uri knows when a perfect ingredient should be allowed to shine on its own: “Simple fish made in the most basic manner,” he says, “can be enjoyed no less, and perhaps even more, than Black Sea caviar, or a blowfish arriving on a direct flight from Tokyo (flying business class, of course).”

We keep Uri Jeremias’s Uri Buri cookbook at hand in our own kitchens—partly because of Uri’s culinary philosophy. Yes, there are recipes in the book, but more than half of it deals with how to think about food—fish in particular—once you know some basic rules, how to be discriminating, respectful, and inventive in the kitchen. Like love, these things come through in the dishes you serve.

Uri’s interest in ad-libbing started early. He tells a story:

When I was young, I hitchhiked around Europe, and I decided not to have any plans. When someone asked me: ‘Where are you going?’ I’d say: ‘Wherever you’re going.’ I traveled to different cities, met lots of people, and so on. After a few months, I came home, and friends asked me, ‘Did you see Mont St. Michel?’ or ‘Did you see this or that?’ I said no. My way of traveling was completely different. It was not about seeing the wonders of the world. It was to meet life.

It is with this same sense of adventure that Uri cooks—and we, his lucky guests, get to be his fellow travelers.

Uri Buri >

Efendi Hotel >

Claro: A Locavore Restaurant in Tel Aviv’s Sarona

 Fine meals and Ingredients at Ran Shmueli's Claro, Sarona, Tel Aviv. Photos courtesy Claro

After decades working as one of Tel Aviv’s most successful caterers, chef Ran Shmueli purchased one of the oldest buildings in the Sarona neighborhood of Tel Aviv and oversaw its meticulous restoration, with a view to opening a restaurant. Today, Ran’s restaurant, called Claro, receives rave reviews from all corners. The cavernous central space has an open kitchen at its hub, surrounded by contented diners. It is a true farm-to-table establishment: Ran works with organic growers all over Israel, and Claro collaborates with local wineries to create special house blends for the restaurant.

“I won’t serve anything that is flown in. I don’t think any country should import things.”

— Ran Shmueli, chef

The chef explains, “I won’t serve oysters here. Nothing that is flown in—I don’t believe in that anymore. Oysters are beautiful in Normandy, with a great Chablis. Here in Israel, it has to be different. I don’t think any country should import things. Every community has its own things, and that’s how the world should go.”

The idea is to also relate to the farmers, to know them and work with them. People appreciate it if they have a name tag on every cheese or tomato. You know who made it, you know who grew it.

This is the new mindset of food people in Israel, as in many pockets in the rest of the world. Food is best when it is fresh and local: best in terms of responsible ecology and sustainable economics, and most immediately in terms of the profound gustatory satisfaction it brings to the people eating it.

Claro >

Claro Instagram > 

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 Ran Shmueli's Claro, Sarona, Tel Aviv

Ancient-Style Dining at Eucalyptus Restaurant

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Lush, living facade of Eucalyptus Restaurant. Photo by Christina Garofalo, courtesy Creative Commons

Offering a fascinating opportunity to sample truly ancient-style Israeli cuisine, Jerusalem’s Eucalyptus restaurant is housed in a nineteenth-century stone building near the Old City walls. Devised by chef-owner Moshe Basson, the menu here is inspired by the agriculture and foods mentioned in the Bible, and includes only meats and produce from the region. From the “King Solomon couscous” to an extraordinary “mallow cooked with wild spices, reminiscent of the siege” (that is, the siege of Jerusalem, when the starving city residents subsisted on this wild edible), and the “Jacob and Esau special” (red lentil stew), the food at Eucalyptus reminds us of the extraordinary histories that surround us in this city.

“A fascinating opportunity to sample truly ancient-style Israeli cuisine.”

As celebrated Israeli chefs Yotam Ottolenghi and Sami Tamimi put it, Jerusalem is “a city with four thousand years of history, that has changed hands endlessly, and that now stands as the center of three massive faiths, and is occupied by residents of such utter diversity it puts the old tower of Babylon to shame.” A city with that kind of jumbled history and demographics—and there is only one—will naturally be a place of inspiring foods.

Eucalyptus > 

Highlights of the Bustling Machane Yehuda Market

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Socializing at Jerusalem’s Machane Yehuda in the evening. Photo by and © Vision Studio

Much of the food scene in Jerusalem revolves around one of the world’s greatest food markets, Machane Yehuda, which bustles with some 250 stalls selling fruits and vegetables, baked goods, fish, meat, cheeses, nuts and spices, wines and liquors, clothing and housewares. Vendors entice, cajole, and sometimes browbeat potential customers in a gamut of languages; and buyers in turn elbow one another in an effort to gain access to the ripest pomegranate, the plumpest chicken, the nicest bit of halvah—quickly filling up bags and wheeled carts to be dragged squeakingly home.

“250 stalls selling fruits and vegetables, baked goods, fish, meat, cheeses, nuts and spices, wines and liquors, clothing and housewares.”

Just about anything food-related can be obtained here. Two small dining places that have been embedded in the market for decades are Azura and Rachmo, both of which serve delicious Sephardic foods—hummus, kibbeh, stuffed vegetables, and much more—all exquisitely prepared. The busy Teller Bakery offers crusty European-style loaves and sweet, soft challah, and everything in between. Basher Fromagerie brings in the finest cheeses from every corner of the world. The gray-bearded Yemenite Uzi-Eli Hezi makes juices from any fruit you can think of (including the etrog, the citron that plays a central role in the Jewish festival of Sukkot). Cylindrical mountains of chalky white sweetness await at Mamlechet haHalvah, the appropriately dubbed “Halva Kingdom.” Any taste can be satisfied at this thriving market.

Machane Yehuda market > 

Machneyuda >

Azura 4
HaEshkol Street, Jerusalem

Rachmo
5 HaEshkol Street, Jerusalem

Teller Bakery
74 Agripas Street, Jerusalem

Basher’s Fromagerie >

Uzi-Eli Hezi >

Mamlechet HaHalvah (Halva Kingdom) 
12 Etz HaChaim Street, Jerusalem

Cheese-maker Shai Seltzer’s Har Eitan Farm

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Shai Seltzer's Har Eitan Farm goat cheeses. Photo by and © Vision Studio

Har Eitan Farm and cheese caves are west of Jerusalem, down the eastern slope of Mount Eitan near the Sataf Springs, at the end of a long and rubbly dirt road, dotted with small placards with images of goats on them.

Like any good alchemist, cheesemaker Shai Seltzer works magic on a regular basis: changing the milk of his Anglo-Nubian crossbred goats into dozens of varieties of pungent cheeses, from the mildest, creamy little crottin disks to big-flavored, crumbly, wizened wheels that are aged for up to five years. Some kinds are wrapped in grape leaves or coated in ash; two are named for his daughters, Michal and Tom; and all are ripened in a natural limestone cave on the farm.

“Shai’s goats have space, shelter, and a beautiful view of the Eitan Valley, and they are well fed on healthy grasses and greens that help them generate the elixir that is their milk.”

Visit Har Eitan and you will find yourself sitting at a small table under a massive stone overhang: this is the front porch of the cave in which these gastronomic miracles happen. If you are lucky, Shai might let you have a peek into the stone chamber where the affinage takes place: a cool, dark space lined with shelves stocked with patient tommes and the aroma of goat-cheese paradise.

His animals are clearly happy. They have space, shelter, and a beautiful view of the Eitan Valley, and they are well fed on healthy grasses and greens that help them generate the elixir that is their milk. Shai chats with them in Hebrew, which, naturally, they understand. “Yes, they speak Hebrew,” he says. “But the main thing they do is laugh. All the time, they are laughing!”

 Shai’s great talents attract regular visitors, although his enclave is not advertised to the world. There is something quietly thrilling about discovering a hidden gem like this, and Israel is studded with them from top to bottom.

Stills from the film The New Cuisine of Israel, available with the purchase of The Desert and the Cities Sing: Discovering Today’s Israel.

 Har Eitan Farm >

Cheese-maker Shai Seltzer's Delicious Alchemy

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Shai Seltzer in a still from the film The New Cuisine of Israel

Shai Seltzer has the mien and the aura of a holy man, or perhaps a wizard: he is often swathed in white clothes, his head wrapped in a white turban. He has a long, snowy beard and wears a pair of scholarly wire spectacles. For a man with a snowy beard he is, however, extremely spry with a wild sense of humor that borders on the naughty.

“When you are making cheese, you are painting.”

— Shai Seltzer

An afternoon with Shai at his Har Eitan Farm, west of Jerusalem, will likely be filled with talk: botany (of which he is a scholar), history, politics, Slow Food (he is of course an activist), cheese-exhilarating enzymes, the life of goats, international cheese conferences (which he regularly attends, and where he is lauded as a superstar), and more. He will expertly pace the sampling of cheeses through your visit, so that the palate will not be overwhelmed—“Slowly, slowly,” he advises. Plainly, these creations still please him greatly, although he must have tasted them hundreds of times.

Botanist, activist, sage, gastronomic magician, Shai is also a teacher who takes in students of cheese making, and who has shared his knowledge with women’s cooperatives in Africa and India, and more locally among the Bedouins, giving them tools and skills to bolster their own microeconomies. Perhaps most importantly, Shai is an artist: “When you are making cheese, you are painting,” he says. “You are painting with milk and with bacteria.”

And indeed, his cheeses are masterpieces. 

Har Eitan Farm > 

These stills are from the film The New Cuisine of Israel, available with the purchase of The Desert and the Cities Sing: Discovering Today’s Israel.