Jamie and Zoe's Eating Tour of LES

When Jamie is in the mood to indulge my eating habits, our gluttony really goes wild. His 6'4 frame and my bottomless tummy combine into an extravaganza of consumption worthy only of two people who could not care less about their health, waistline, or general well-being. With only one free day to spend together in New York, you might expect me to recount a romantic dinner at Jean-Georges. Or, perhaps, a homemade picnic in Central Park. Ha! Yeah right! Jamie and I spent the day doing what Jamie and I do best: stuffing our faces with melted cheese. In a matter of just a few hours, we roamed the lower east side on a personalized eating tour of all our favorite cheesy-fried spots. And despite doing our best to split slices of pizza and order the smallest plates we could, our snacks quickly devolved into a lunch-dinner experience that left both of us full for hours.

We began by making a b-line for Artichoke. I've been gone for just over three months and in that time Jamie has eaten a lot of late-night pizza. Not to discount the glory of Pizza Park right underneath his building, Jamie was proud to introduce me to Artichoke as the best slice he has discovered so far. As we approached 14th St, Jamie quickened his step in excitement. I couldn't keep pace even while running to catch up with him.You can even see in this photo that he didn't want to wait for me to take a photo before ordering. It's just that good.




Imagine the best spinach artichoke dip, completely smothering a crispy piece of pizza, with little bites of fresh grilled artichoke, all covered with melted cheese. I don't know how no one has invented this type of pizza before, since the sheer genius of mixing artichoke dip and pizza continues to astound me even as I think back on it now. I had discounted Jamie's 5 am phone calls proclaiming the glory of Artichoke pizza as simply drunken exaggerations, but no: Artichoke pizza is truly a feat of brilliance. HOT CHEESY SPINACH ARTICHOKE DIP! ON PIZZA!!!! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT!?!?!?! Jamie garnished us up right-- chili flakes, obviously-- and we sat outside on a bench under an umbrella in the rain devouring our slice. After only one bite, I was convinced, even licking my paper plate to catch the hot artichoke dip drips that would be a travesty to waste.





We had to get up quickly from Artichoke so that we wouldn't order another piece, so we rushed over to S'mac, only a few blocks away. S'mac had been recommended to us by Chris Foley (see: Emeril's Miami, March 2010) who has been my partner in seeking out themed restaurants for a while now. S'mac is completely devoted to good ol' Amuuuuurican Macaroni and Cheese, re-imagined. Boasting a menu with items like Buffalo Chicken Mac-n-cheese complete with blue cheese and buffalo sauce, or Cajun mac with andouille sausage and hot peppers, it didn't take long for me and Jamie to switch gears into mac-n-cheese land. S'mac's piping hot pans of creative macaroni pay tribute to the classic box of noodles that has gotten me through many Saturday nights at Wesleyan University (Thank you, John Allison and Sophia Sadinsky) and revitalized Jamie at 3 am during his parties in Goshen. In fact, Jamie and I have been re-inventing Macaroni and Cheese ourselves for years: Jamie adding hot dogs and Lousiana Chalula into his Annie's, and my secret extra slice of American cheese in the pot of Kraft. We've basically been foreshadowing S'mac's menu in our own kitchens… it's just the S'mac does it with just a bit more style. And more cheese.





After S'mac we started to slow down, to our dismay. We needed a break if we were going to reach our final destination: Pommes Frites. So, we stopped for an hour to rest up with coffee and the crossword until our stomachs could rev up for just a little more. Pommes Frites has been a favorite of mine for a long time, even once prompting a one am trek 30 blocks through a blizzard for just a taste of that roasted garlic mayo. Ok, I'm just going to come out and say it: french fries are my favorite food. I know, it's juvenile. But Pommes Frites really does french fries right, making this side dish into something truly savorable. Served in a paper cone, freshly fried, cut thick… but most of all, accompanied by three sauces of your choosing. Now this is the part that really stresses me out. How am I supposed to choose between pesto mayo and sweet chili sauce? Parmesan peppercorn and peanut satay? Jamie charged me with choosing, a responsibility which left me practically too nervous to even eat, but eventually we compromised: roasted garlic mayo, curry ketchup, and honey mustard. Obviously the mayo was my favorite (as mayo always is…) but Jamie's was the classic honey mustard. He likes honey mustard so much that even after he spilled the sauce on the table, he was dipping straight into the puddle. Yes, we're classy. Here you can even see us in action- eating fries in the taxi, because really, who can take a bus uptown when there are Pommes Frites to eat?





Our lower east side eating adventures left us just inert enough to lay back with a Blue Moon and watch the Celtics beat the Knicks in the last minute of game 2. I guess Jamie and I are emanating luck nowadays. This was truly an afternoon well spent. And much more to come: even after successfully stuffing ourselves on these three LES delicacies, there are a million New York restaurants still to explore. I already feel full (heart and tummy) from the opportunity to start making food memories together again.

Shuk HaNamal

Every Friday morning, Shuk Hanamal opens its front and back doors to spread the way for a farmer's market. The inside of the market remains the upscale Tel Aviv foodie dream that sits on the port all week long, filled with fresh cheese, meat, fish and restaurants that claim the highest products available in Tel Aviv. These shops are then joined by farmers from around Israel, highlighting the best oils, jams, produce, cheeses, and breads they offer. While its difficult to trek all the way to the northern tip of the city on Friday mornings, and even harder still to battle the throngs of Tel Avivim who only want the best for their Friday night tables, I never regret visiting this once-a-week treat. The food is colorful and bright, the samples are surprising and enticing, the vendors are ohsodreamy and dirty and loving... oh, the thrill of a farmers market for a true foodie!!! It never gets old.

Misadat Salimi- Florentin

http://tastetlv.blogspot.com/2011/03/misadat-salimi.html

Written by yours truly for TasteTLV.com!

A blog post dedicated to Mr. Arya Donay

This is Arya Donay:

Arya made aliyah on November 15th, 2010. After months of pushing and prodding from every Californian in Tel Aviv, Arya arrived and the group of friends was finally complete. But even though everyone proclaimed intense adoration of our group's token Persian LA Jew, he was met with this badgering sign when he stepped off the plane:

This is Tina, Arya's beautiful mom:

As Yoav so eloquently explained, "You know Arya's mom's cooking is the only reason he has friends, right?"

When I first heard about this elusive Arya figure last summer, I found out that a) Arya's an idiot, and b) his mom is an amazing cook. During years of friendship with Arya back in California, these hungry Jewish boys were lucky enough to be lovingly ushered into Tina's kitchen, where mounds of Persian Jewish cooking magically appeared for all of Arya's free-loading friends. Her specialty, gondi, has now entered into my weekly routine, as I desperately wait for Friday to roll around and for Arya to bring Tina's gondi to shabbat dinner.

This is gondi:

Gondi is a Persian Jewish specialty. This meat version of a matza ball is made from ground turkey and chicken breast, grated onions, salt, pepper, olive oil, tumeric, cardamon, dried sour lemon, ground chickpeas. The mouthfeel is a little harder than a matza ball, but it similarly sits in chicken broth and is made specially for shabbat dinner. Apparently invented in the ghetto of Tehran, gondi is the most characteristic food of Persian Jewish culture, and we are now lucky enough to continue this tradition in merkaz Tel Aviv.

To get a sense of just how good gondi really is, let's take a moment to listen to the wise words of Mr. David Abraham: "From the moment it enters your mouth, you get the savory taste of the spices from the outside of the ball, and when you take a bite through it, you begin to taste the scrumptious chicken/turkey mix that melts in your mouth with exquisite fluidity."

Tina makes gondi every friday. But even though Arya grew up eating gondi once a week, he never got sick of it. Gondi is surprisingly adaptable; it can even be eaten inside lavash bread with mint, Persian basil, fennel, watercress, and different herbs. It's usually eaten as an appetizer because, as Arya explains: "Persian shabbat dinner is like a Persian wedding- you sit around and drink and eat nuts and eat gondi until dinner, catching up about the week, until about 11:00 when you finally sit down to the meal." This routine makes gondi stand out as a highlight.

Arya, the self proclaimed hottest guy in USY, learned to make gondi from Tina after he moved to Israel. When he was home with Tina, he would help her make gondi sometimes, but it was only when he was in Israel and started to miss Tina's gondi did he finally learn the recipe himself. (Yoav adds, "they're still not as good as Tina's!") Yet despite learning to make gondi from Tina, the goddess of gondi herself, Arya explains that everyone's gondi always turn out different. "I can tell the difference between my mom's, my aunt's, my great aunt's... everyone's gondi reflects their character. Some are bigger, smaller... it all depends on the person." Benji here adds that this quality of gondi preparations means that Arya's gondi are "quiet but out there." What does this mean exactly? Arya's meatballs are just as he is-- maybe not perfectly shaped or executed with particular attention to detail, but always a highlight and never forgettable.

In the two months I've been here, I've already learned to wait with great anticipation for Arya on Friday nights. His gondi never fail. Never dry. Never bland. And since Benji only brings rice to shabbat dinner, I swear we'd all be much worse off if Arya wasn't in Israel.

Hummus Said- Akko

I forgot the cardinal rule. Never, and I mean NEVER, try to eat hummus for breakfast after a night of drinking.

Hummus Said is the famous hummusia in Akko. It's just as worth the trip as Akko's prison,mosque, bathhouse. To be honest, I've only ever ventured north to Akko for the hummus. So after a long night in TLV, I hopped on an early train up north with some friends and started the trek through the bazaar for some good hot chickpea love. Bursting with excitement after waiting in line, I proudly ordered us five bowls of Mashowsha, the hot version of hummus with extra tahina and chickpeas.

It came dripping in oil, accompanied by the typical veggies. I dug right in. One bite. Two bite.

Uch.

I write this blog entry with shame. I didn't even finish half the bowl. When we left Said's, we could have pooled our leftovers together and been left with more than we had all eaten, combined. I am beyond embarrassed.

So despite the fact that I may never show my face in Akko again, you all should. It really is one of the best hummusiot in the country.

Sigh.

Hummus Makes You Silly

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fdOTzWs6Vpw

Orna and Ella

I haven't updated Everywhere Eating in a while but, rightly so, I'm in Tel Aviv now and ready to get back in the swing of things. And where better to pick up blogging again than Orna and Ella, Sheinkin's dainty little hot spot bistro?

Saturday was my 23rd birthday, and Orna and Ella was the obvious choice to gather my women of valor for a night of feasting. We, the Tel Avivim and frequent Orna and Ella diners, sat down knowing exactly what we wanted to order. The newbies, our out-of-town guests from Jerusalem and Alexandria, were the receipients of way too many suggestions about the menu's must-haves. By the time our (debatably) very cute waiter approached, we were ready to order the whole menu. He even had to go back for pen and paper when he realized what we wanted.

"That's a lot of food, you know," he cautioned.
"OH. We know." Liana responded, too confidently for a person of her size.

We began with the two bottles of the Pelter Rose, our usual choice, and the sweet potato pancakes. The big plate. For the table. Obviously. These sweet potato pancakes are the staple of any respectable meal at Orna and Ella, and the restaurant's specialty. Please don't imagine fancy latkes or gourmet hashbrowns; these soft pancakes are little bites of sweet potato clouds-- with chive sour cream, tomatoes and cucumbers, just for good measure!



Needless to say, we had finished the pancakes before we had even toasted our Pelter.

Next came our appetizers. We had it all: carrot soup, goat cheese salad, asian chicken soup, smoked salmon with corn bread, risotto balls. It was a synchronized dance of eating: sit up, reach, fork, bite, sit back, breathe, repeat. It's a wonder that our arms didn't bump each other as we all grasped at bites across the table. A delirium began to set in.

We had almost forgotten more food was coming when, all of a sudden!, our main dishes arrived. Salmon scallopini, chicken salad, fish balls with couscous, butternut squash tortellini, ricotta and asparagus ravioli. Dishes covered the table and we barely had room for our glasses. Liana started to laugh, I poured myself more wine, Niriel strategized, Emily quietly surveyed the scene and Monica dug right in. We all tried bites of everyones, but no one dared rank the dishes. It was all too good.

After we wiped our plates clean, Liana summarized, "This is the best restaunt. I've been to a hundred restaurants and this is the best one." Which may or may not be true, but either way, it is certainly one of my favorites. In Israel, I often get trapped in an Israeli food/Italian/Sushi triangle, even getting sick of food that I usually love. But Orna and Ella unassumingly presents one of the most creative menus available, where Israeli classics are served with a gourmet spin. No matter how many times I order the same thing, it always feels fresh.

Finally understanding our digestive prowess, our waiter cleared our empty plates and offered us dessert menus. No one was hungry, but I sucked up the pain and ordered a tarte tatin for the table. Five spoons please! When our dessert arrived though, it was accompanied by a magnificent birthday surprise: a massive merangue, filled with whipped cream and topped with passion fruit syrup. When our waiter placed our two desserts on the table, we thought we were hallucinating.

"What IS THIS!?" Monica asked in wonder. Having lived in Egypt the past six months with limited food options, she had entered culinary shock two hours before. "Was this even on the menu!?"

Liana responded, "YES! I saw it! It's called the Poof!"

That's when we knew we were in trouble. It took us a whole thirty seconds to realize that Liana had no idea what she was saying. And that Orna and Ella would never print the word "poof."

After finishing every morsel of sweet goodness, we sat back and hoped to digest, of course failing miserably. That's when I knew (although, of course, I had already known) that I have the best friends in the world. It takes true love for five beautiful 23 year old ladies to stretch their stomachs in my honor-- and with such dignity! After a little, we all walked slowly home to our respective Tel Aviv apartments, nursing our bursting bellies with pride, secretly knowing that more dinners like this one are in our future. A good omen for my 23rd year....