In recent years, both Alkalai and Hovav say, eating out—the act of getting together with others, but also of seeking out food as a source of pleasure—has become more important for Israelis as the sense of unease fluctuates. “If the fighting has taught Israelis anything,” says Alkalai, “it’s to enjoy life.” Whether it’s in the form of a family-style mezze of hummus, roasted aubergine and cheeses at Tel Aviv underground favorite Ha’achim (Hebrew for “The Brothers”) or a cast-iron pan of shakshuka, the spicy egg-and-tomato breakfast dish served all day long at Dr. Shakshuka in Jaffa, food has become an important means to escape: Surrounded by countries almost perpetually in some state of turmoil, Israelis can really only get in the car and drive as far as their own borders, or otherwise hop a plane. When that’s not possible, there is a good meal down the street. Chefs, in turn, have grown more creative.
Family-style mezze at Ha’achim in Tel Aviv
The country’s various open markets do a good job satisfying this inventiveness for both professional and home cooks. At both Jerusalem’s Mahane Yehuda and Tel Aviv’s Levinsky markets, chilies, cumin, fresh coriander and basil mix with more classically Israeli spices like za’atar and sumac. There are Libyans selling Libyan blends; Turks selling Turkish blends. There is history: Specialty foods like halvah, marzipan and mutabak are largely sold by the same families that first began selling them in these stalls years ago, using the same recipes, too. But there is also the new: At artisanal soda shop Café Levinsky 41 in Tel Aviv, owner Benny Briga spends a good 10 minutes preparing my homemade gazoz, or soda, of macerated guavas plucked from a tree in his parents’ backyard, and although I could drink it all in one quick gulp, I slow down instead. This, of course, is entirely his point.
In Jerusalem, the book, the authors talk about how food can transcend religion (which they also acknowledge is not an absolute). In Jerusalem, the city, Iraqi-born chef Moshe Basson of The Eucalyptus does his best to achieve that ideal. His acclaimed kosher restaurant, on a cobblestoned street in the Artists’ Colony, serves a clientele that includes Arabs, Jews, Christians and plenty of non-believers “biblical cuisine” based loosely on foods of the Bible—wheat, barley, olive oil, figs, honey, pomegranates, freekeh. “Loosely” means chicken-liver macarons, fire-roasted eggplant covered in pomegranate seeds and tahini, focaccia with za’atar pesto, chubeiza gnocchi and his famous makloubeh, a rice, chicken and vegetable casserole with saffron and almond yogurt.
“When I first started, I mixed the cooking styles of my mother and my grandmother with that of our Arab neighbors,” says Basson, a founding member of Chefs for Peace, a decades-old, but perhaps never more relevant, movement that began when Jerusalem-born Armenian chef Kevork Alemian watched his Christian, Jewish and Muslim colleagues working together in the kitchen. “People see the fire and blood here, but they don’t really know what it’s like. In any kitchen there are Jews and Muslims working together, laughing and drinking together.”
As further evidence that the mood in Israel isn’t nearly as serious as the average news connoisseur might believe, nearly as much as they love food, Israelis love their reality TV—and their reality-TV chefs. Eyal Shani was already well known as a restaurateur and local eccentric when he became a host of MasterChef Israel, but the show undoubtedly put his fourth endeavor, Ha Salon, firmly in the realm of the reliably packed (despite the seeming lack of effort, with no website and hidden, as it is, at the end of a side street with no signage). Two nights a week, it is one of Tel Aviv’s most in-demand places to be, with a bar encircling the open kitchen where Shani cooks before adoring guests. The food is as inventive as one has come to expect here in Israel—grouper tartare with green chili and radish, tomato carpaccio—and the vibe far more festive, too. At around 10, the lights dim, the Arabic music gets louder, the dancing on tables begins and there’s no place anyone here would rather be.
