The day they invented ‘sharing plates’ in trendy restaurants was the day I started looking for anorexics to go and eat with. I don’t wanna ‘share’, get’cher own fuckin’ dinner, cos if you touch mine I WILL KILL YOU. Which is really not a Nobu kind of sentiment. Its not cool to contemplate murder where Asian fusion meets South American ceviche. But I do get the point; kind’a.

That you order lots of variety and share them all together. Its more interesting. As long as you remember that stabbing hands with forks is not nice. Stabbing them with chop-sticks even more unpleasant. So don’t do it!! Its not how to behave.

The first time I encountered this concept formally was here in Tel Aviv. In what has become my favourite restaurant of all. Abraxis North. And the waitress (think: Bar Rafaella meets Giselle but with undertones of Woody Allen) knelt on the pavement next to our table and spent 10 minutes explaining the concept to the accompaniment of me salivating. Nothing to do with the food at that point.

The food, however, is beyond good. Its different. And amazing. Everything you share you never want to end. Until you try the next thing. And the place is self-consciously unpretentious. They’re into brown paper. Instead of table cloths. And brown paper bags, in which a lot of the food comes to table. Often slammed down, so the bread opens up like petals on a flower, or the (most incredible) roast cauliflower (in the world) separates into florettes. Or the Eton Mess just splatters for all to dip in. Its as brilliant a concept as it is amazing to eat.

Abraxis is not cheap but its not expensive either.

But last night we went somewhere different. Because the geezer (or ‘chef’ if you must) who runs Abraxis, and a few others, has opened a new place up the road. A different concept. Its called Ha Miznon, which means ‘the counter’ and it offers street food. Basically, they take all the fantastic combinations of foods from Abraxis, stuff ’em into wonderful fresh, fluffy, light pitta bread and charge you a quarter the price. You have to find a table, plastic, cheap, help yourself to everything, and all orders are shouted over the near-deafening music when ready. It is nearly-organised chaos. By design.

A fine-dining experience it ain’t. And all the better for it. If, like me, your favourite place to eat is anywhere where food can drip down your forearms, then you should go there. If you’re a pretentious tosser who doesn’t do dirty fingers, give it a miss. Life is about variety, ya know?

Happy Friday

A xxxx