Jerusalem Post, Weekend Magazine; March 27, 2008
The newly revamped Hilton King Solomon Grill offers culinary excellence and old-school service. In this age of cut-throat competition, is this enough for a restaurant in Tel Aviv?
When I was a 20-year-old college student spending a year abroad in Israel, one of my great Zionist ambitions was to work as an Israeli waitress. What better way to experience modern Israeli life?
One of my first gigs in the service industry was at the executive lounge at the top floor of the Hilton Tel Aviv where VIP guests gathered for coffee, tea and refreshments. I remember that, while tips weren't always great, the manager of the lounge always emphasized quality service and impeccable presentation. We treated the guests as if they were kings.
Almost 10 years later it was my turn to be treated like royalty when I stepped into the King Solomon Grill. The elderly host immediately took my coat and approached me like a person worthy of a certain level of obsequiousness. The suited waiters exhibit propriety and knowledge. There was an immediate sense of classic restaurant pomp.
When the hotel opened in 1965, the Grill quickly became the prestigious, exclusive kosher restaurant for the Israeli and foreign elite. Back then it was located in a much bigger hall that seated about 200 (the current incarnation seats about 50). Jackie O., George Bush Sr., Jimmy Carter, Elizabeth Taylor and Kirk Douglas all graced the original dining hall. But with the growth of the Tel Aviv restaurant market and culture in the 1990s, the King Solomon Grill lost its edge. The former hall was turned into a banquet hall, and the Grill moved to its current location.
The hotel is currently upping efforts to reassert its prominence as one of Israel's finest kosher restaurants. Over the last few months it underwent a face-lift - the lighting, carpeting, positioning of tables were all updated. Based on my recent dinner there, it still deserves its legendary name, at least in terms of food, if not necessarily in design.
The interior looks like an extension of the five-star hotel with carpeted floors, tables and chairs draped with ordinary cloths and rather dreary paintings on the walls that look like they may have been cutting-edge back in the 1970s. While the design was lacking in contemporary style and conceptual invention, the meal, however, was first class. Uli Gold, chef of two years at the Grill, is versatile, creative and skilled.
The Mexican-themed seared tuna (NIS 69) on spicy corn cream, black bean and mango salsa, was a celebration of taste, structure and color. A tower of three perfectly cubed pieces of chili-crusted tuna, stacked atop tortilla chips, looked like an art installation. The deep burgundy cuts of tuna were soft to the knife and a little spicy on the palate.
The admittedly expensive veal loin was also perfectly cubed (NIS 194), crusted in oatmeal "muesli," and resting on an herbed polenta soaked in gravy. The moist and tender meat was, like the tuna, soft to the knife, and a little sweet to the palate. Some bites struck me as a little too salty. The caramelized fruit and vegetable side consisting of baby onions and pineapples was sweet but not overbearingly so, with chestnuts adding a warm, wintery touch. However, I hardly touched the herbed polenta, a chunk which was too heavy and not so appetizing. It formed the only real flaw of the dish.
Desserts are Gold's design as well. The chocolate fondue, a classic dessert, was just that: classic in taste and preparation.
While the offerings were among the best and most sophisticated kosher dishes I've tasted in a while, I wonder if, in this age of Tel Aviv cut-throat competition, the fine food alone will suffice to attract diners who are not guests of the hotel.
Overall, the ambience was intimate and comfortable, but it did not create for this former waitress an experience of aristocratic, crystalline wealth and luxury which would have justified such a pricey menu.
Hilton Tel Aviv, Independence Park,
(03) 520-2023, Hours: 7-10:30 p.m
Sunday-Friday. Shabbat has a buffet
menu during the day. Kosher.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Thursday, March 20, 2008
I WANT 2 TXT U UP
The Jewish Journal; March 20, 2008
Click here for original
Recently, I met a guy at a friend's party. He had blond, spiky hair and an intellectual's goatee. He was a European student in Israel for the year working on his master's degree researching Palestinian security. While I realized I couldn't count on him for a serious romantic prospect, I gave him my business card. The next day he sent me a text message on my cell: "If you're ever around my neighborhood, give a call or stop by my place for tea, coffee, beer, drinks...."
OK, so was he asking me on a date? Or was this textual invitation his way of saying, "So if you're ever around stop by so we can fool around?"
Sorry, I don't do contextual sex. If he were really interested in getting to know me, wouldn't he have called and offered to take me out to dinner, or at the very least, coffee?
This is not the first time I've been asked out via SMS (short message service). Once a month I get an SMS from a young, somewhat geeky Tel Aviv lawyer who has been courting me for years. The messages usually read: "I'm in Jerusalem maybe you want to do something." Usually I don't reply, not only to protest this lazy approach, but to avoid carpel tunnel syndrome. I don't call back because then he succeeds in placing the expense, effort and burden of the phone call on me.
Despite my lack of responsiveness, he still continues to ask me out over SMS. I guess he never really felt rejected.
Sometimes I wonder if the SMS was created not to ease communication between people but to protect the egos of single men and women. By asking people out by text, they don't actually have to hear a blatant "no." And if the other side accepts the offer, SMS courtships already set low standards of communication.
What I hate more than using SMS to ask people out is using SMS to conduct intimate conversation. I have sought to avoid this, but I've heard countless stories from friends who spill their hearts over SMS. Like the time my friend in her early 30s was dating a man who couldn't commit to her, and she told him she couldn't see him anymore. When she could no longer take his absence, she sent him an SMS that read: "I just want to tell you I miss you, but please don't answer me."
I'm sure it was a form of catharsis, but I'm also sure she was secretly hoping that he would answer her. He ended up replying, and they continued their sloppy, passive-aggresive relationship for another month.
SMS relationships can also be risky. This same friend finally broke up with this commitmentphobe (although they still SMS on occasion) and developed a semiserious relationship with a new guy; this time it was mutual -- or was it? One day he left his cell phone charging at her apartment. She looked around to make sure God wasn't looking, and with little compunction, she opened his inbox. She sensed she might find there some love SMSs.
She analyzed the messages -- exactly when they were sent, by whom, under what circumstance -- as if they were a complex Talmudic discussion. She found one message from her boyfriend's good "friend" that read "are you alone, or are you with your 'girlfriend.'" (Girlfriend in quotation marks.) She checked his outbox to look for a reply, but there were only 10 messages. She was sure he erased the incriminating ones. She concluded that he and this friend were involved.
One day she asked him if she was his "girlfriend in quotation marks," and he understood. He liked her enough to forgive her trespass. Then he explained how this friend simply mimicked a SMS he sent to her in which he called her casual weekend fling a "boyfriend" (in quotation marks). He only had 10 messages in his outbox because his phone automatically erases them. Turns out she took everything out of context.
The most cowardly SMS, however, is the break-up SMS.
A friend of mine recently told me how horrible she felt when she sent the following message to a JDater she went out with twice: "I think you're great, but I don't think it's going to work." He called her twice immediately after, and she didn't pick up. She has yet to listen to the message he left. I'm sure karma will "send" her retribution.
It reminds me of that "Sex and the City" episode when Carrie Bradshaw's boyfriend dumped her with a Post-it.
"Sorry. I can't. Don't hate me," it read. I wonder why he didn't send it via SMS.
Now that would have been an SMS Pulitzer-prize winner.
So many people fall back on text messages because it excuses them from depth, articulation, and emotional investment. Sometimes suitors opt for Facebook for textual courtship and rejection. Facebook at least requires full sentences, but the Facebook relay still offers one degree of separation.
I can't stand it when guys "superpoke," "bite," "hug" or send me a virtual drink over Facebook. That's lazy, impersonal flirtation. E-mail requires more courage, but still, nothing demonstrates more respect in dating and relationships than a phone call or a face to face conversation.
Click here for original
Recently, I met a guy at a friend's party. He had blond, spiky hair and an intellectual's goatee. He was a European student in Israel for the year working on his master's degree researching Palestinian security. While I realized I couldn't count on him for a serious romantic prospect, I gave him my business card. The next day he sent me a text message on my cell: "If you're ever around my neighborhood, give a call or stop by my place for tea, coffee, beer, drinks...."
OK, so was he asking me on a date? Or was this textual invitation his way of saying, "So if you're ever around stop by so we can fool around?"
Sorry, I don't do contextual sex. If he were really interested in getting to know me, wouldn't he have called and offered to take me out to dinner, or at the very least, coffee?
This is not the first time I've been asked out via SMS (short message service). Once a month I get an SMS from a young, somewhat geeky Tel Aviv lawyer who has been courting me for years. The messages usually read: "I'm in Jerusalem maybe you want to do something." Usually I don't reply, not only to protest this lazy approach, but to avoid carpel tunnel syndrome. I don't call back because then he succeeds in placing the expense, effort and burden of the phone call on me.
Despite my lack of responsiveness, he still continues to ask me out over SMS. I guess he never really felt rejected.
Sometimes I wonder if the SMS was created not to ease communication between people but to protect the egos of single men and women. By asking people out by text, they don't actually have to hear a blatant "no." And if the other side accepts the offer, SMS courtships already set low standards of communication.
What I hate more than using SMS to ask people out is using SMS to conduct intimate conversation. I have sought to avoid this, but I've heard countless stories from friends who spill their hearts over SMS. Like the time my friend in her early 30s was dating a man who couldn't commit to her, and she told him she couldn't see him anymore. When she could no longer take his absence, she sent him an SMS that read: "I just want to tell you I miss you, but please don't answer me."
I'm sure it was a form of catharsis, but I'm also sure she was secretly hoping that he would answer her. He ended up replying, and they continued their sloppy, passive-aggresive relationship for another month.
SMS relationships can also be risky. This same friend finally broke up with this commitmentphobe (although they still SMS on occasion) and developed a semiserious relationship with a new guy; this time it was mutual -- or was it? One day he left his cell phone charging at her apartment. She looked around to make sure God wasn't looking, and with little compunction, she opened his inbox. She sensed she might find there some love SMSs.
She analyzed the messages -- exactly when they were sent, by whom, under what circumstance -- as if they were a complex Talmudic discussion. She found one message from her boyfriend's good "friend" that read "are you alone, or are you with your 'girlfriend.'" (Girlfriend in quotation marks.) She checked his outbox to look for a reply, but there were only 10 messages. She was sure he erased the incriminating ones. She concluded that he and this friend were involved.
One day she asked him if she was his "girlfriend in quotation marks," and he understood. He liked her enough to forgive her trespass. Then he explained how this friend simply mimicked a SMS he sent to her in which he called her casual weekend fling a "boyfriend" (in quotation marks). He only had 10 messages in his outbox because his phone automatically erases them. Turns out she took everything out of context.
The most cowardly SMS, however, is the break-up SMS.
A friend of mine recently told me how horrible she felt when she sent the following message to a JDater she went out with twice: "I think you're great, but I don't think it's going to work." He called her twice immediately after, and she didn't pick up. She has yet to listen to the message he left. I'm sure karma will "send" her retribution.
It reminds me of that "Sex and the City" episode when Carrie Bradshaw's boyfriend dumped her with a Post-it.
"Sorry. I can't. Don't hate me," it read. I wonder why he didn't send it via SMS.
Now that would have been an SMS Pulitzer-prize winner.
So many people fall back on text messages because it excuses them from depth, articulation, and emotional investment. Sometimes suitors opt for Facebook for textual courtship and rejection. Facebook at least requires full sentences, but the Facebook relay still offers one degree of separation.
I can't stand it when guys "superpoke," "bite," "hug" or send me a virtual drink over Facebook. That's lazy, impersonal flirtation. E-mail requires more courage, but still, nothing demonstrates more respect in dating and relationships than a phone call or a face to face conversation.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Not the 'Circus' (bar review)
Jerusalem Post, Billboard; March 14, 2008
Herziliya Pituach is home to some dozen bars and dance bars, and while a good number of them demonstrate the design sophistication of bars in Tel Aviv, they have never really enjoyed the mega-trendy, ultra-cool vibe of Tel Aviv establishments.
Oxford Sq. is trying to change that. It's a bold attempt, but based on a recent visit there, one that falls short. The dark, narrow bar mimics Britain's Underground subway station, with graffiti painted on brick walls and a long bar where one would expect to find subway rails. Sounds likes an impressive concept, but read the tiled "Oxford Sq." on the wall to realize that something is missing from the get-go - the correct name, which is Oxford Circus.
The concept wasn't extended to a small lounge area in the back of the room where my friends and I gathered for a birthday party on plush, leather sofas. Oxford Sq only opened at the start of 2008, and the service reflected a lack of time-honed proficiency. The waitress took 20 minutes to bring me my cocktail, an unwise delay for any bar which should try to get the ladies tipsy as quickly as possible.
Finally, my drink came, so I relaxed and sat back to people watch, as we often do in subway stations. It was about 10:30 pm, and two monitors screened a basketball game, making Oxford feel more like a sports bar. Men with buzz cuts were transfixed on the game, despite the pretty blondes by the bar who should have lured their attention.
But not long after the screens rolled up, the music got a little louder, and Oxford Sq. began to turn more into the circus it should be. Still, the dancing was only in aisles that are as unpleasantly squishy as a central subway station during rush hour.
The menu, while serving a respectable choice of beers and hard liquors, has a meager cocktail and food selection. The people exuded an impenetrable Herziliya snobbiness that made it difficult to make friends. However, I noticed some people didn't seem to mind the crowdedness and ultimately found their groove. It's quite possible however, that I just didn't drink enough.
Oxford Sq., can apparently rely on its novelty, good PR, and haphazardly executed concept to attract initial crowds. I give it two years before it crashes. As for me, my friend and I boarded the train and left early - about 1 a.m. - while lines were still long outside.
Oxford Square, Abba Eban 4, Herziliya, (09) 950-2371
Herziliya Pituach is home to some dozen bars and dance bars, and while a good number of them demonstrate the design sophistication of bars in Tel Aviv, they have never really enjoyed the mega-trendy, ultra-cool vibe of Tel Aviv establishments.
Oxford Sq. is trying to change that. It's a bold attempt, but based on a recent visit there, one that falls short. The dark, narrow bar mimics Britain's Underground subway station, with graffiti painted on brick walls and a long bar where one would expect to find subway rails. Sounds likes an impressive concept, but read the tiled "Oxford Sq." on the wall to realize that something is missing from the get-go - the correct name, which is Oxford Circus.
The concept wasn't extended to a small lounge area in the back of the room where my friends and I gathered for a birthday party on plush, leather sofas. Oxford Sq only opened at the start of 2008, and the service reflected a lack of time-honed proficiency. The waitress took 20 minutes to bring me my cocktail, an unwise delay for any bar which should try to get the ladies tipsy as quickly as possible.
Finally, my drink came, so I relaxed and sat back to people watch, as we often do in subway stations. It was about 10:30 pm, and two monitors screened a basketball game, making Oxford feel more like a sports bar. Men with buzz cuts were transfixed on the game, despite the pretty blondes by the bar who should have lured their attention.
But not long after the screens rolled up, the music got a little louder, and Oxford Sq. began to turn more into the circus it should be. Still, the dancing was only in aisles that are as unpleasantly squishy as a central subway station during rush hour.
The menu, while serving a respectable choice of beers and hard liquors, has a meager cocktail and food selection. The people exuded an impenetrable Herziliya snobbiness that made it difficult to make friends. However, I noticed some people didn't seem to mind the crowdedness and ultimately found their groove. It's quite possible however, that I just didn't drink enough.
Oxford Sq., can apparently rely on its novelty, good PR, and haphazardly executed concept to attract initial crowds. I give it two years before it crashes. As for me, my friend and I boarded the train and left early - about 1 a.m. - while lines were still long outside.
Oxford Square, Abba Eban 4, Herziliya, (09) 950-2371
Thursday, March 6, 2008
A rare treat? (restaurant review)
Jerusalem Post, Weekend Magazine; March 6, 2008
The new Jerusalem-based branch of Papagaio offers a good show and good meats. It's only a shame that attention to the finer culinary details is missing.
Only one week after opening, the kosher branch of Papagaio in the Talpiot neighborhood in Jerusalem was full on a weekday night. Out of 150 places, only about 20 were empty: the rest filled with kippa-wearing, baby-clutching families and itchy children; the odd meat-guzzling men's night out was also in evidence. The South American grill can thank the success of its five other branches - located in Tel Aviv, Herzliya, Eilat and Haifa - for some advance marketing.
This was my first visit to the chain and allow me to say in advance that I'm not a huge beef lover (I order steaks on special occasions) but the design and concept tempted me. Papagaio offers an all-you-can-eat "Churrascarias" dinner for NIS 140; the meat keeps coming and the diners keep dining, preferably until they pop.
The restaurant is probably one of the largest in Jerusalem. Spread over 500 square meters its design raises the bar for the capital: the handsome leather chairs and booths and finely set wooden tables; the wedding-cake shaped chandeliers; and the large bar adorned with a now seemingly de-rigueur LCD monitor. Across from the bar is the wide-open grill.
The meal here starts with breads, spreads, and salads and then come 12 different kinds of meat. (Lunch comes with eight kinds of meat for NIS 90.) On the table is a "stopper" which diners use to signal to the waiters red for "STOP" and green for "GO" to pace the service. Our waiter brought out a platter of fruit cocktails for an aperitif. Although made only from pure frozen fruit pieces, sugar and (if desired) alcohol, these drinks were mediocre and pulpy.
While it's recommended to come to Papagaio very hungry, overcome the temptation to indulge that hunger with the opening salads. While they are prepared fresh daily and include coleslaw, Israeli salad, spicy carrot salad and sweet potato salad, they are not good or creative enough to justify padding the stomach. Stick with the fresh, light Israeli salad, which may need some more seasoning.
As my dining partner pointed out, all-you-can-eat grills often start with the cheaper, lightweight meats first. Papagaio proved no exception to the rule.
First we were served two kinds of chicken wings (one with the salads) and then drumsticks grilled in a sweet marinade; then came the chorizo sausages, lamb kebab and chicken skewers. Overall these dishes had the quality of a well-done, professional barbecue. The liver that followed, however, was a little too charred for my taste.
We didn't use the red/green stopper for a while. The waiters kept filling our places. This makes Papagaio a sore choice for intimate conversation - we were continually interrupted. Finally, we put the stopper on red so we could finish our train of thought and let our stomachs settle to welcome the beef.
One sirloin, sliced thin, was flavored with salt seasoned with fresh herbs, and another with garlic sauce. Then came the large, impressive boneless rib carved on the spot, and I was too full to really enjoy it. I realized there comes the point of diminishing returns.
I waited a little and made my way through the entrecote, which looked particularly appetizing. It still sizzled when it was brought to our table on a skewer the size of a sword. The waiter carved the meat professionally according to our request: medium on one side and medium- well on the other. I regretted my fullness, because I really could have enjoyed the fine and juicy pieces.
Doggie bags, by the way, aren't allowed at Papagaio. "The meat should be tasted sizzling hot, straight off the grill," is the manager's inadequate explanation. (I imagine what he really means is that the restaurant fears the greedy Israeli consumer who might feed a family of four on the offerings.)
Finally dessert: The chocolate fondue was more like a bowl of liquid brownie goop. (These are made on the spot and take 12 minutes to bake; I think they rushed ours.) The overly moist carrot cake was drowning in a grapefruit sauce.
Overall, if you're looking only for the food and not for the show (although there's a show there too), you may want to try South American Vaquiero on Rehov Hanevi'im instead. This relatively veteran Jerusalem restaurant offers an excellent eat-as-much-as-you-like 10-12 meats option for NIS 129 which includes dishes such as goose in orange sauce.
Those deciding to dine at Papagaio need to pace themselves and not be shy in rejecting the servers' constant bid to fill the plates. Either that, or ask to be served the offerings in reverse, starting with the beef. I doubt they would actually agree, but you never know....
Rehov Yad Harutzim 3, Jerusalem.
Tel: (02) 674-5745. NIS 140 for unlimited meats, salads and breads. An upgraded deal for NIS 185 includes cocktails, a cold and hot drink, and dessert.
Atira Winchester contributed to this review.
The new Jerusalem-based branch of Papagaio offers a good show and good meats. It's only a shame that attention to the finer culinary details is missing.
Only one week after opening, the kosher branch of Papagaio in the Talpiot neighborhood in Jerusalem was full on a weekday night. Out of 150 places, only about 20 were empty: the rest filled with kippa-wearing, baby-clutching families and itchy children; the odd meat-guzzling men's night out was also in evidence. The South American grill can thank the success of its five other branches - located in Tel Aviv, Herzliya, Eilat and Haifa - for some advance marketing.
This was my first visit to the chain and allow me to say in advance that I'm not a huge beef lover (I order steaks on special occasions) but the design and concept tempted me. Papagaio offers an all-you-can-eat "Churrascarias" dinner for NIS 140; the meat keeps coming and the diners keep dining, preferably until they pop.
The restaurant is probably one of the largest in Jerusalem. Spread over 500 square meters its design raises the bar for the capital: the handsome leather chairs and booths and finely set wooden tables; the wedding-cake shaped chandeliers; and the large bar adorned with a now seemingly de-rigueur LCD monitor. Across from the bar is the wide-open grill.
The meal here starts with breads, spreads, and salads and then come 12 different kinds of meat. (Lunch comes with eight kinds of meat for NIS 90.) On the table is a "stopper" which diners use to signal to the waiters red for "STOP" and green for "GO" to pace the service. Our waiter brought out a platter of fruit cocktails for an aperitif. Although made only from pure frozen fruit pieces, sugar and (if desired) alcohol, these drinks were mediocre and pulpy.
While it's recommended to come to Papagaio very hungry, overcome the temptation to indulge that hunger with the opening salads. While they are prepared fresh daily and include coleslaw, Israeli salad, spicy carrot salad and sweet potato salad, they are not good or creative enough to justify padding the stomach. Stick with the fresh, light Israeli salad, which may need some more seasoning.
As my dining partner pointed out, all-you-can-eat grills often start with the cheaper, lightweight meats first. Papagaio proved no exception to the rule.
First we were served two kinds of chicken wings (one with the salads) and then drumsticks grilled in a sweet marinade; then came the chorizo sausages, lamb kebab and chicken skewers. Overall these dishes had the quality of a well-done, professional barbecue. The liver that followed, however, was a little too charred for my taste.
We didn't use the red/green stopper for a while. The waiters kept filling our places. This makes Papagaio a sore choice for intimate conversation - we were continually interrupted. Finally, we put the stopper on red so we could finish our train of thought and let our stomachs settle to welcome the beef.
One sirloin, sliced thin, was flavored with salt seasoned with fresh herbs, and another with garlic sauce. Then came the large, impressive boneless rib carved on the spot, and I was too full to really enjoy it. I realized there comes the point of diminishing returns.
I waited a little and made my way through the entrecote, which looked particularly appetizing. It still sizzled when it was brought to our table on a skewer the size of a sword. The waiter carved the meat professionally according to our request: medium on one side and medium- well on the other. I regretted my fullness, because I really could have enjoyed the fine and juicy pieces.
Doggie bags, by the way, aren't allowed at Papagaio. "The meat should be tasted sizzling hot, straight off the grill," is the manager's inadequate explanation. (I imagine what he really means is that the restaurant fears the greedy Israeli consumer who might feed a family of four on the offerings.)
Finally dessert: The chocolate fondue was more like a bowl of liquid brownie goop. (These are made on the spot and take 12 minutes to bake; I think they rushed ours.) The overly moist carrot cake was drowning in a grapefruit sauce.
Overall, if you're looking only for the food and not for the show (although there's a show there too), you may want to try South American Vaquiero on Rehov Hanevi'im instead. This relatively veteran Jerusalem restaurant offers an excellent eat-as-much-as-you-like 10-12 meats option for NIS 129 which includes dishes such as goose in orange sauce.
Those deciding to dine at Papagaio need to pace themselves and not be shy in rejecting the servers' constant bid to fill the plates. Either that, or ask to be served the offerings in reverse, starting with the beef. I doubt they would actually agree, but you never know....
Rehov Yad Harutzim 3, Jerusalem.
Tel: (02) 674-5745. NIS 140 for unlimited meats, salads and breads. An upgraded deal for NIS 185 includes cocktails, a cold and hot drink, and dessert.
Atira Winchester contributed to this review.
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