People Watching in Sderot Rothschild

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Walking the tree-lined central boulevard of Sderot Rothschild. Photo by and © Vision Studio

To prepare for a night of club hopping in Tel Aviv–Yafo, take a nap and set your alarm for 11 p.m. Put on a little extra makeup and your most comfortable shiny sandals, and take yourself down to Sderot Rothschild—the city’s beautiful tree-lined central boulevard—to watch and take part in the promenade of people starting their evening.

“Go to Sderot Rothschild to watch and take part in the promenade of people starting their evening.”

The evening air is refreshingly cool after the heat of the day. A stream of pedestrians stroll beneath the night sky, the streetlights’ glow mottled by trees. Couples abound: a shy young boy and girl hold hands, blinking at a dazzling transvestite unicyclist coming their way. A woman in unthinkably high heels strides along with as much apparent ease as her partner in high-top sneakers. (Israel is famously casual: while some people dress to the nines, most are comfortable in shorts and flats.) A pair of grandparents proudly pushes a stroller down a path; perhaps the baby’s parents are having a night out and the older couple wants to enjoy the pleasantly cool evening air and the many gratis performances on the boulevard. A small crowd surrounds two street performers doing an acrobatic hybrid of the Wobble and the NaeNae, accompanied by the propulsive beat of a recorded drum. All of it helps put you in mood to explore the city’s many nightclubs. 

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.

Druze Hospitality and Cuisine at HaOrchim Restaurant

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Druze town of Daliyat el-Carmel. Photo by Ron Almog, courtesy Creative Commons

The population of Daliyat el-Carmel, near Haifa, is predominantly Druze. One of the more popular restaurants in the town is HaOrchim (“The Guests”), graciously extends the hospitality that its name implies. The meal starts with mezze: salads, roasted cauliflower bathed in creamy, parsley-flecked tahini, tabouleh with pomegranate seeds, lemony stuffed grape leaves wrapped tight and thin as a pencil, a dish of snowy, tart labneh sprinkled with a fragrant zaatar spice mixture, and a mound of hummus with a crater in the middle filled with tahini and a green pool of fresh olive oil, to be consumed with fresh pita bread, warm from the oven. Then on to sinyeh: lamb patties grilled and then baked with tahini; sambusak filled with a spicy combination of potatoes, onions, and green peppers; mushrooms and chickpeas in a blazing-hot pepper sauce, and so on.

“The meal starts with mezze: salads, roasted cauliflower bathed in creamy, parsley-flecked tahini, tabouleh with pomegranate seeds, lemony stuffed grape leaves wrapped tight and thin as a pencil.”

Many dishes revolve around meat; in Druze and Arab cuisine, the more meat served, the more luxurious the meal is considered, and the more respect shown to the guest. For dessert, if the traditional sweet aish el-saraia is on offer, it must be tried: cream, honey, and orange-blossom and rose waters cooked down until thick and garnished with ground pistachios—sublime. At the end of the meal, you may be served Arab coffee poured from a finjan, a long-handled metal pot. A joggle of caffeine and you will find the wherewithal to head out to the world again.

HaOrchim Restaurant
Daliyat el-Carmel
 

Jaffa’s Abouelafia Bakery: Peace through Bourekas

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Arab-Israeli-run Abouelafia bakery in Jaffa. Photo by Ted Eytan, courtesy Creative Commons

The legendary Abouelafia bakery, an Arab-Israeli-run establishment that has been in operation since 1879 on Beit Eshel Street in Jaffa. Open twenty-four hours a day, it offers long bagels, many kinds of pita, sambusak stuffed with cheese, and savory sesame-studded bourekas.

“Abouelafia bakery, open twenty-four hours a day, knows the good that can come of mixing peoples.”

Located as it is on one of the busiest streets in Jaffa, streaming with tourists and locals, Abouelafia knows the good that can come of mixing peoples. (In the summer of 2014, as violence raged in Gaza, bakery workers wore T-shirts that read in Hebrew, “Jews and Arabs refuse to be enemies” and gave the shirts out free to anyone who came by.)

Abouelafia
7 Yefet Street, Tel Aviv-Yafo

Jerusalem’s Mount Zion Hotel: Ottoman-Style Luxury

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Photo courtesy Mount Zion Hotel

The Mount Zion Hotel, located on the outskirts of Jerusalem’s Old City, offers sumptuousness in a different flavor and an equally intriguing history. Erected by a British charitable organization in the 1880s, the building, which faces Mount Zion and looks over the sweeping Hinnom Valley, originally served as a hospital for Jews, Muslims, and Christians. It was taken over by the Turkish army during World War I and suffered severe damage in the 1920 earthquake. During Israel’s War of Independence, contact with Jerusalem’s Jewish Quarter was possible only by means of a cable car running from a point on Mount Zion to a room in this hospital building. The cable car was used at night, carrying medicine and arms up to Mount Zion and the wounded back down to the hospital; by day, the cable was lowered to the ground so as not to be seen by the enemy. As with so many sites in Israel, the past is embedded deeply in every stone here.

“As with so many sites in Israel, the past is embedded deeply in every stone here.”

Today, the Mount Zion Hotel retains much of its Turkish flavor: there is a clear Ottoman-Moroccan aesthetic sensibility in the wildly patterned ceramic floors, stone walls and archways, colorful curtains and bedclothes, and the brightly tiled hamam, now a functioning Turkish bath and part of the hotel’s spa. And the Mount Zion serves one of the loveliest breakfasts in Israel: a groaning board of fruits, cheeses, vegetables, olives, baked goods, fish, omelets, breads, fresh juices. On this account alone, many guests wish they had more days here, in order to sample everything.

Mount Zion Hotel >

Photos courtesy Mount Zion Hotel

From the North to the South: Hiking the Israel Trail

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Bicolor clover (Trifolium dichroantum). Photo by Janie Easterman courtesy Creative Commons.

For a country so complicated, Israel is small—so small you could walk the length of it. And people do.

The Shvil Israel, or Israel National Trail (INT), traces the length of the country from Kibbutz Dan, near where Israel meets the borders of Lebanon and Syria in the North, to Eilat in the South, a total of nearly a thousand kilometers (or about 620 miles). Inveterate hikers may take on the full span of the trail, generally at least a two-month enterprise, usually starting in early spring (February to May), before the harsh summer heat sets in. The INT, which National Geographic has deemed one of the world’s “holy grails of hikes,” includes countless breathtaking sights. Grand, unpeopled desert vistas in the Negev. Ancient monuments to civilizations long gone. The cragged swath of the Makhtesh Ramon, where Nubian ibexes stroll as casually as proprietors. Valleys blanketed with neon-bright wildflowers. A long stretch looking out at the sparkling Mediterranean between Tel Aviv and Haifa. Verdant hills and deep-green forests. If the season is right and the rains have cooperated, there is water in the form of rivulets, rivers, waterfalls, the Red Sea, the Sea of Galilee, and more.

“What travelers encounter along the way is spiritual on many levels”

Hikers who are less ambitious—or who don’t have weeks to devote to this undertaking—may choose to walk one of the trail’s twelve subsections or discover their own passages, or they may opt for single-day excursions—up to the top of Mount Tabor, for example, to look out over the Jezreel Valley to Mount Carmel and the Galilee.

Israel’s stunning wilderness may be the chief focus of the INT, but the country’s people also play an important part on this path: the route winds through functioning kibbutzim, and Arab and Druze towns, and there are opportunities to touch base in Haifa, Tel Aviv, Jerusalem, and other cities and towns along the way. There are so-called “trail angels”: people who live near the route and offer hikers a hand should they need it, or sometimes a place to shower or sleep, or simply a much-needed chat and a refill for their water bottles.

There are no buses that follow the INT, little cell-phone connection, no guided tours, no crowds—in fact, there are stretches of days when hikers might not see another soul. What travelers encounter along the way is spiritual on many levels; certainly the summit of Mount Carmel, for example, is sacred to Jews and Christians as well as to Muslims and followers of the Baha’i faith. But such places are so charged with natural beauty and are so transportingly magnificent that everyone who sees them must be stirred and inspired. As humans, no matter our faith or lack of faith, we have in common a capacity to be joyfully overwhelmed by the powerful presence of nature.

Shvil Israel (Israel National Trail) >

Nightclubs of Tel Aviv-Yafo, and Breakfast after Midnight

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 Benedict Ben Yehuda poster advertising their midnight breakfast.

Nightclubs are mercurial things—they come and go with the wind—but there’s one thing you can count on in Tel Aviv-Yafo: the effervescence of the scene.

“You might well find yourself dancing on a table . . . practically speaking, there is simply not enough room on the tiny crowded floor.”

The clubs cover a full range, from the super-elegant—where a swish clientele drinks cava and complicated cocktails while nibbling on delicate hors d’oeuvres—to the poundingly high-decibel underground cavern, throbbing with bodies and sound. There are clubs where, upon entering, you might encounter the long legs and bare feet of a young woman dancing four feet above floor level on the bar, to jangly Middle Eastern hip-hop, and where—if you stick around long enough—you might well find yourself dancing on a table (practically speaking, there is simply not enough room on the tiny crowded floor).

DJs at some clubs spin disco music, to which a young and sweaty crowd pogos beneath scattered rays of colored light. And there are chill jazz venues where you can make a selection from a menu of single-malt whiskeys, and sip blissfully to recordings of jazz greats or live performances. Some rooftop clubs have outdoor seating areas lit by sparkling lights, where you can sit on comfy bright-colors sofas and puff at a hookah like an old pasha.

If you’re hungry at 2 a.m., visit a late-night gastropub and have (what else?) a bagel, served with zaatar and tahini. (These are not your New York bagels: in Israel, the bagels are extended oblongs, baked but not boiled, and far more filling than our little doughnut-shaped affairs.) Here, eaters and beer drinkers young and old chat and laugh, enjoying a much-needed break in their club crawl.

As the sky begins to lighten at the edges, you may be famished after your night of adventures. Tel Aviv-Yafo has a range of eateries that specialize in breakfast—including Benedict Ben Yehuda, where you can select your own combination of toppings for eggs, from asparagus to salmon to creamed spinach to (the decidedly un-kosher option) crisp bacon.

After your late night/early morning breakfast, you may ready for a nice long nap. Happily full and delightfully exhausted, you have seen the sun rise. It’s time to head home.

Benedict Ben Yehuda >

HaMaoz/Café Meira >

Work and Play in Beautiful Herzliya

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Herzliya Beach. Photo by Ron Almog, courtesy Creative Commons

Adjacent to Tel Aviv to the north is the elegant city of Herzliya, which stretches up along the Mediterranean and operates at a somewhat more stately pace than its hopping neighbor. This is the home of many ambassadors, foreign diplomats, business moguls, and others from among Israel’s well-to-do population, and it is a magnet for Tel Avivians who want to slow down, stroll the marina checking out yachts, or succumb to the temptations of the chic Arena shopping mall.

“A magnet for Tel Avivians who want to slow down.”

Mornings on the Herzliya beach begin precisely at dawn, with one or two determined walkers or joggers taking their daily constitutionals; by 9 or 10 a.m. the numbers have grown to the hundreds and include swimmers, sunbathers, breakfast picnickers—and if the wind is high and the waves indulgent, even a few surfers. The beach and the sea accommodate all of this so easily.

The district of Herzliya Pituach is home to the headquarters of many major high-tech firms; their glossy modern office towers line the nearby highway, advertising the future. This is a central hub of what is now commonly referred to as “Silicon Wadi.”

Neve Tzedek Hotel: Hidden Sanctuary in Tel Aviv

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View onto a balcony at the Neve Tzedek Hotel, Tel Aviv–Yafo. Photo by and © Vision Studio

The Neve Tzedek Hotel is a five-suite inn on Deganya Street that takes its name from what is now one of Tel Aviv’s most happening neighborhoods. The hotel, which feels like the beautiful home of an eccentric friend, is the creation of two brothers, Golan Dor and Tommy Ben-David, longtime residents of Neve Tzedek who revamped one of the area’s International-style historic townhouses to create this inn.

“Neve Tzedek Hotel has the feel of a sanctuary—it’s hard to believe you are in the middle of a busy quarter of the city.”

The suites at the Neve Tzedek Hotel are spacious and airy; each is like a little apartment. The floors and walls are immaculately white, but the rooms are brightly appointed with colorful rugs and sofas, original paintings on the walls, and vases overflowing with fresh flowers. The rooms on the lower floors of the hotel look out onto a peaceful stone garden in back (one of them includes access to an outdoor Jacuzzi), and the top-floor suite features a big, sunny balcony from which guests can look out onto the nearby rooftops and skyscrapers.

The Neve Tzedek Hotel has the feel of a sanctuary—it’s hard to believe you are in the middle of a busy quarter of the city—with some unexpected creative touches: bright-green ivy growing up the walls of the downstairs Garden Suite bath; a wooden barrel repurposed as an elegant sink; a bottle of excellent wine provided in the kitchenette.

Guests are essentially left to their own devices in these warm spaces. As you leave the peaceful Neve Tzedek Hotel and move into the throng of a Tel Aviv morning, it feels like stepping into the city from the private tranquility of your own home.        

Neve Tzedek Hotel >

From Big and Brassy to Discreet Boutique: Tel Aviv Hotels

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David Intercontinental Hotel, Tel Aviv. Photo by Chris Hoare, courtesy Creative Commons

A great hotel will make guests feel welcome on the most personal, most individual level. This is where touches like chocolates on the pillow, say, or a bowl of fresh fruit in the room, or a call from the concierge to see if everything is in order can make all the difference.

“Tel Aviv abounds in excellent hotels; many of them are big and brassy, and wonderful in their way.”

Tel Aviv abounds in excellent hotels; many of them are big and brassy, and
wonderful in their way: the Dan, the Hilton, the Carlton, the sleek and massive
David Intercontinental—all of them grand places from which to explore the city,
relax in style, or get work done (which is always nicer when your window looks out at the sea). Other establishments, often referred to nowadays as “boutique” hotels or inns, are smaller and quirkier, and may tell you something more about the character of the place where you find yourself. Among these are the Neve Tzedek Hotel, and the Hotel Montefiore, whose twelve splendid rooms each feature the work of a different contemporary Israeli artist; Gordon, a sleek, original Bauhaus-style building with rooms overlooking the water; and Alma, a lovely inn that boasts a superb restaurant of the same name.

Alma Hotel and Lounge >

Dan Tel Aviv Hotel >

David Intercontinental >

Gordon Hotel and Lounge >

Hilton >

Hotel Montefiore >

Reviving the Spirit at Pina Barosh Inn

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A guestroom at the Pina Barosh inn, Rosh Pina. Photo © and courtesy Cookie West 

The building that houses the Pina Barosh inn, perched on Rosh Pina’s HaKhalutzim Street, has been in the Friedman family since the 1870s; today, six generations along, the family continues here. Nili Friedman, who now owns and runs the inn, is a warm, effusive, and very welcoming hostess—she is, like many others in Rosh Pina, also an artist, and some of her paintings can be seen hanging on the walls of Pina Barosh’s seven charming guest rooms, most of which look out onto the broad green-and-gold Hula Valley. Some rooms have private outdoor hot tubs, in which guests can loll indulgently with a glass of wine and gaze out all the way across the valley to Mount Hermon.

“Mornings at Pina Barosh will likely find you sitting at the inn’s wide, stone-columned outdoor dining room, overlooking the Hula Valley.”

Mornings at Pina Barosh will likely find you sitting at the inn’s wide, stone-columned outdoor dining room—warmed in cooler months with a blazing fire in a central fireplace—and looking out at this astonishing view. Here are served magnificent, many-dish breakfasts, including homemade cheeses, fig jam, breads, tapenades, tahini, fresh eggs and yogurts, and the requisite Israeli salads—such a satisfying, nourishing, and gorgeous way to start the day. Nili’s daughter, Shiri, trained as a chef in France and New York, and runs the excellent Shiri Bistro here that also serves lunch and dinner, applying her refined culinary approach to the bounty of local produce and other ingredients.

Pina Barosh >

Falling in Love with Rosh Pina

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Rosh Pina doorway. Photo by Itamar Grinberg, courtesy Israeli Ministry of Tourism and Creative Commons

Driving to the town of Rosh Pina, your car climbs straight up a cypress-lined road, passing charming homes and bed and breakfasts in weathered stone buildings with terracotta roofs, windows overflowing with pink geraniums and bright orange bougainvillea. The combination of old stone and brilliant flowers may bring to mind the hills of Provence.

“Rosh Pina is roughshod in the most enchanting way.”

Rosh Pina is roughshod in the most enchanting way—its cobbled streets are punctuated with artists’ studios and workshops. Among the stones is the beautiful Pina Barosh inn, which overlooks the richly colorful expanse of the nearby Hula Valley.

It is not at all hard to fall in love with Rosh Pina—which translates to “cornerstone.” Clearly, this place is a foundational point, a creative homeplace, a cornerstone of Israel.

Akko: A Storied City and a Cultural Crossroads

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Akko coastline. Photo by Max Nathans, courtesy Creative Commons

Akko (also known as Acco, Acre) is stunning and storied old city, run through with ancient stone alleyways and built on layers of civilizations.

“Akko is one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world.”

Though small, it contains so much: a cultural mix of people living in relative ease with one another; a zigzagging history of governing bodies stretching back to something like 3000 bce (a UNESCO World Heritage Site, Akko is one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world); and beautiful buildings that have survived from Akko’s many moments of glory through the ages. It has hosted such historical superstars as Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, Saint Francis of Assisi, and Marco Polo—it was less welcoming to Napoléon Bonaparte, who was drastically defeated here by the Ottomans in 1799. The city’s location, at the northernmost point of Haifa Bay, is visually stunning and served as a tactical advantage to clans and factions through the ages, from the Phoenicians to the ancient tribe of Asher to the Assyrians to the Rashidun caliphate to the Crusaders, the Mamluks, the Ottomans, and onward.

All these periods are visible in the city’s streets and buildings, and beneath them, too, in a web of underground tunnels and cavernous rooms built in the twelfth century by the Crusaders. The medieval structures were erected on the shoulders of Roman ruins, and on top of them in turn stand the Ottoman edifices that prevail aboveground today, many of which were constructed under the rule of the bloody-minded Ahmed al-Jezzar Pasha (known to his friends as “the Butcher”). Like so many places in Israel, its ground is striated with a variety of governments. A stroll through Akko is like walking through history—and provides a humbling lesson in the transitory nature of power and dominion.

Today, Akko is one of Israel’s more heterogeneously populated cities: a 70–30 percent mix of Jews to Arabs, and a true cultural hodgepodge. It is real, alive, and pulsing with energy. It is very much a place to experience now.

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Akko marketplace. Photo by Bon Adrien, courtesy Creative Commons

The Many Flavors of Israeli Hotels

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Interior of one of the cabins at Castles That Move in the Wind in the Golan. Photo by and © Vision Studio

When traveling, you can sometimes let go of normalcy and embrace something dreamlike. Israel abounds with wonderful places to sleep and to dream, catering to all tastes and imaginations. There are the lush fairy houses of the Castles That Move in the Wind up in the Golan; Beresheet, a stone hotel that sits, as silent and monolithic as the city of Ur, on the edge of the Ramon crater in the Negev; and the sublime respite Mizpe Hayamim,  a spa/hotel/organic farm near Rosh Pina (more about these in film The New Cuisine of Israel/Mizpe Hayamim: A Retreat for Body and Soul), and many more.

“Israel abounds with wonderful places to sleep and to dream.”

We have not stayed in every hotel in Israel—not by a long shot—but we have touched down in nearly every corner of the country and have seen a wide gamut of lodging places, from mud huts on working farms in the desert to the most elegantly appointed hotel rooms overlooking vistas of green hills, borderlines, and history. What we have seen throughout our travels is that Israelis have a knack for combining elegance with a lack of pretention, a Mediterranean understanding of hedonism with a kibbutznik practicality. Each of the hotels, inns, and guesthouses mentioned we’ve visited combines those factors.

Your feet are always on the ground in Israel; it is hard not to feel agreeably at home here in the most basic and the most high-toned places. That kind of comfort is the ultimate luxury.

Beresheet Hotel >

Castles That Move in the Wind >

Mizpe Hayamim >

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 >

Akko's Sa’id Hummus Shop

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Happy customers at the Sa’id hummus shop, Akko. Photo by and © Vision Studio 

At Sa’id hummus shop in Akko, there is always a line to get in, but things move quickly, as the establishment specializes in only three perfect dishes, which are always ready for the table: hummus, foul (a rough mash of warm fava beans and spices), and mashawsha (a still rougher mash of warm chickpeas and spices), served in small hillocks on the plate and liberally drizzled with rich, dark olive oil, along with pickles, onions, vegetables, and a hot pile of freshly baked pita.

“Sa’id specializes in only three perfect dishes, which are always ready for the table: hummus, foul, and mashawsha.”

Guests sit at shared tables, eat quickly, and watch the process in the kitchen: vast pots of chickpeas and favas being systematically cooked, drained, mashed, spiced, and served. At Sa’id, the daily service ends abruptly when they run out of hummus, which is often in the early afternoon.

Sa’id Hummus >

Treasure Hunting in Haifa’s Wadi Nisnas

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Wadi Nisnas, Haifa. Photo by Dany Sternfeld, courtesy Creative Commons

The neighborhood of Wadi Nisnas (nisnas means “mongoose”) is a concentrated hodgepodge of Arab homes and businesses clinging to the Haifa hillside. Here, many say, you can find the much-sought-after Truly Best Falafel in All of Israel—perfectly crunchy and light—at Falafel HaZkenim. Or shop at the bustling Wadi Nisnas open-air market, where there are all sorts of indigenous seasonal greens featured in Arab cooking, from cyclamen, hubeizeh (mallow), and ellet (chicory) to mustard stems for pickling, beet greens, and much more. There are also fresh herbs and olives, just-roasted coffee beans (scented with a bit of cardamom), fresh meats, and excellent baklava and other Arab pastries (try Abdelhadi Sweets).

“Save room, at the end of a satisfying and savory Arab meal, for deliciously smooth halvah ice cream.”

Haifa’s Ben-Gurion boulevard cuts through the old German Colony (built, like Sarona, by the Templers in the late nineteenth century), where many interesting restaurants have been opened within the nicely restored historic buildings. Among these is Fattoush, where you are advised to save room, at the end of a satisfying and savory Arab meal, for deliciously smooth halvah ice cream.

And Bistro Venya and Cula, new gastronomic neighbors in Haifa’s port, share a distinctively young and exuberant spirit in their menus as well as in their clientele.

Abdelhadi Sweets
3 Wadi Street, Haifa

Falafel HaZkenim
18 Wadi Street, Haifa

Wadi Nisnas open-air market
Between Zionut Boulevard, Shabtai Street, and Yud Lamed Peretz Street, Haifa

Fattoush
38 Sderot Ben Gurion, Haifa

Harmonious Haifa, “Haifsters” and All

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Vista of Haifa’s port from the top of the Baha’i Gardens. Photo by and © Vision Studio 

Haifa, built on the slope of Mount Carmel overlooking the Mediterranean, has all the beauties and the maritime industrial operations that go with life in a seaport city. The famed terraced Baha’i Gardens run down Mount Carmel into the downtown: a long, impeccable carpet of green and gold forming a magnificent centerpiece for the bustling metropolis. The gardens lead to the Baha’i Universal House of Justice—the central seat of the governing body for this deeply peaceful monotheist faith, whose followers believe in unity of religion, unity of humanity, and unity in diversity. In the distance, by the water, the chug of bending marine cranes gives a regular rhythm to the cityscape.

“Haifa has long been known as a place of relative harmony among its Jewish, Muslim, and Christian residents.”

Haifa has long been known as a place of relative harmony among its Jewish,
Muslim, and Christian residents; the heterogeneous mix also incorporates a large group
of Russian immigrants and a core group of Baha’i. As elsewhere in Israel, the varied demographic makes for interesting culinary possibilities. Haifa is also an increasingly young city: the cafés, nightclubs, pubs, and restaurants are filled with so many young hipsters that a new term has recently been coined: “Haifsters.” This group brings a taste for innovation to the city’s food scene.

Baha’i Gardens >

Nazareth's Celebrated Diana Restaurant

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A chef chops meat for kebabs at the Diana restaurant, Nazareth. Photo by and © Vision Studio

The predominantly Arab city of Nazareth is home to the celebrated Diana restaurant, headed by chef Duhul Safdi. Its main room is enormous—set up, clearly, for large groups of diners anticipating Safdi’s wondrous local Palestinian fare.

“A meal at Diana always begins with fresh pita and enough mezze for a dozen people (even if you are only two).”

One wall holds a vast window looking into the bright kitchen; positioned directly on the other side is a chef’s station where guests can watch the preparation of the meat for Safdi’s famous kebabs. Moving at the speed of light, the chef rocks a massive sickle-shaped knife along a mix of fresh lamb, onion, spices, pine nuts, and herbs, then regroups it and chops it again until its consistency is just right. It is a dizzying show, well worth watching.

A meal at Diana always begins with fresh pita and enough mezze for a dozen people (even if you are only two): Technicolor-bright vegetable salads, tahini, roasted eggplant, labneh, and more—the small dishes of delicious tastings nearly cover the table. These may be followed by wild spinach or okra with lamb or chicken, or a rice dish with mulukhiyah (jute) and perfumed with lemony beef stock, or safiha (a pastry stuffed with meat and seasoned with yogurt and harissa), or Safdi’s legendary kebabs, which are sometimes cooked and served on cinnamon sticks, giving off a lovely sweet and savory aroma. If you have room at the end (perhaps unlikely), there is knafeh and Arab coffee—black, hot, sweet, fragrant with coriander, and powerful: the perfect closing note to an amazing meal.

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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.

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 Ran Shmueli's Claro, Sarona, Tel Aviv