Tel Aviv, Israel — Revenge is a dish best served cold. Breakfast is a meal best served by a woman named Verna with a hacking cough who refers to you as “Sugar.” Unfortunately for me, there are no greasy spoon dive diners here in Tel Aviv where grandmas with emphysema take my order. There are no menus that are half eggs and pancakes and half gyros and moussaka. No 24-hour diners where the food has questionable health standards but, hey, all-day breakfast. Frankly, I don’t know how I can survive living in such a place without this basic human necessity.
What helps me cope is is a Sarabeth’s-esque, foux-foux, New York-brunch wannabe called Benedict’s. The main difference between a divey diner and Benedict’s is that though Benedict’s has its breakfastic menu 24-hours a day like your classic Greek-ish diner hole in the wall, sadly the quality of the food is high and the clenliness standards of the establishment are pretty respectable. I like my food clean and all, but the best part of a diner experience is waking up the next day, feeling like your heart works a little harder to beat this morning. Benedict’s can’t give me this experience of living on the edge, but it can give me tasty American and Israelified American breakfast treats.
Word to the wise: only a fool visits Benedict’s on a Friday morning, which is cafe pandemonium in Tel Aviv. A real pro goes at 3 a.m., when filling up on eggs will either totally prevent a hangover, or otherwise catalyze a trip to the Porcelain God. Moreover, bring our your bifocals because the menu takes about 103495 years to parse, and is only more difficult to navigate when you’re plastered. But no matter what you order, you will be provided an unlimited bread basket bonanza, the best component of which is the brioche buns, and apple jam, butter and nutella. With most meals, you also receive a complimentary coffee drink or fresh juice or a cocktail, often a lychee sparkler (pictured.) I’ve had the pancakes (pretty good), the omelettes (great), the Benedict Royal (royal indeed), but I recommend the egg balls. Those are a gnocchi-like substance made of eggs instead of pasta, not really for their flavors, but more because I think the name is funny.
Foodwise, I can cope with Benedict’s. But, Zelda, my chain-smoking grandma from the Skyline Diner, you’ll always have my heart. Though eventually one day you’ll prompt its ultimate demise.
1 year ago • Notes