Paris awaited us with a heavenly content, cool and beautiful just as we left it on our last visit.
Its streets are lined up towards us with wonderful scenery for a romantic outing of less than 24 hours.
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I can fill in rows describing the alleys of Greenland and the Christmas decorations in red and green, waiting for the snow to fall and paint the sidewalks white, write about the Christmas markets scattered in the city
and the wonderful food stalls that fill the cold air with the smell of traditional dishes for French gastronomy. Ali and my partner swallow wide-eyed, miles of European classics hand in hand.
I did not think I would write about one thing and it is he who is going to fill the following lines - Israeli food.
Meet the Amzaleg fan.
Our paths crossed in the past when he fed me in kitchens I loved such as "Topolopompo", or when I felt like eating with my hands ("He who does not eat his hands does not lick his fingers" were the words on the sign at the entrance) when I visited "Happy Dog Bar" .
Recently, a golden opportunity led to Amzaleg receiving the baton for the kitchen of the "Shock" restaurant in Paris, which undertook to bring original Israeli elite cuisine to the City of Lights.
If I did not know Ohad's good hands and his wide heart, I would probably wholeheartedly miss a place that serves Israeli food on my short visit to Paris.
On the other hand, the thought that this man would cook dinner for me, made me plan the whole day accordingly, excitedly, and build hunger for the occasion.
Forgive me the Francophiles and devotees of classic French cuisine, but this was the smartest culinary choice I've made in the city in years.
How much courage does it take, I thought to myself, to go out and conquer taste buds that are loyal to a base of yellow butter and vinegar, with your weapon being olive oil and fresh lemon.
But here, our Napoleon went into this battle and seemed to have succeeded, or at least presented fine Israeli cuisine in the beating heart of the French capital.
This was evidenced by the queue at the entrance and the bustling space for the four hours we sat in it, the only place that was vacant (and in retrospect well so) on the open kitchen bar.
I do not like to sit on high bar stools, but these turned out to be the "Golden Ring" of the best show in town.
As someone who sins herself in cooking and entertaining, the sounds of a working kitchen have always fascinated me.
The harmony of the "market" cooks' staff is astonishing.
The work in the kitchen seemed to flow automatically even when many "builders" had accumulated on the order board.
Restaurant "Market" Paris, Photo: Assaf Carla
Everyone knows exactly what their role is, and everyone's eyes are on the chef who leads the core of the work with pleasantness and respectful silence, from time to time laughter is released - and connoisseurs say that a laughing kitchen produces happy food.
Why should I go back there?
To experience a chef going beyond the obvious and thus conveying to the diner an experience of pleasure, it is quite something to return to in his favor.
In addition;
Upon entering the restaurant space there is a sense of generosity in the place.
The open kitchen dictates the atmosphere and the rhythm and as a bonus gives a peek at the curious.
In the style of Amzaleg, there was zero flattery for the French palate, and he completely relocated to the DNA of modern Israeli cuisine that runs like the second thread between the dishes that came out for us.
Beginners
The first to come out was a cloudy carb dish in the form of hot hyacinth bread alongside lava balls (which are prepared on the spot) swimming in olive oil, in a separate saucepan a mixture of doa and in a third saucepan rested spicy pepper peppers that had just come off the grill.
A starter that hints at the following - delicious, and effortless.
We assured ourselves that we would not fall into a sequence of entrees that would interfere with us messing with mains
and just then, the kitchen assured us that he received a free hand (Big steak for weight watchers) that would get us the forte of the menu (i.e. pretty much the whole thing).
In honor of this dubious decision, the cute Frenchman extracted for us from the bar a bottle of 100% natural Chardonnay, without bisulfite, unfiltered.
From the Languedoc area.
I mean, bloody wine.
For a short life / salad and continue.
Next to arrive was a lovely dish of pickled kohlrabi leaves collected in the shape of a rose, between the leaves aioli horseradish and this beauty rests on a distillate of spicy grape juices
Surprised by the textures and flavors that opened the meal, we get the next dish, "gratin" boiled (then baked) beets in hibiscus axis on mashed potatoes and oranges.
It's fun to feel such a refreshing wave of daring and creativity that Amzaleg expresses especially in unusual combinations of raw materials.
Breathe for a moment and here lies another dish in which the kitchen handles the cauliflower in three techniques;
At the bottom of the plate is cauliflower cream, on which is baked baked cauliflower, garnished with cauliflower crumble, mint chips, pickled egg yolk and itchy "hairs" Parmesan adds another white hue to the beauty - Bravo!
At this point Sasha, the smiling chef, decides it's a wonderful moment for Chaser Arak to sit in the bar, and someone else behind the scenes decides it's a great time to step up Hanan Ben Ari who insists "our lives are strawberries" and even the French who fill the restaurant seem to agree.
In a parallel world and without extenuating circumstances, such a song in a restaurant abroad will make me flee for my soul, and here and now I join in smiling in a second voice.
The next thing we tasted was "Farmers' Portion."
Grilled Little Jam Lettuce in a spicy coconut cream sauce and chilli oil, and it was basically a link dish to the following warming dishes.
The first to come out of the "hots" was a sea dish.
Whole chickpeas cooked with lemon, and fish roasted in Arisa butter and pickled lemons, she is fun and light and continues superbly the dishes that preceded her.
Chef Ohad Amzaleg at work in the kitchen, Photo: Assaf Carla
Immediately after, a colorful and intriguing dish joins the table, consisting of a cream of stone, black eggplant, botarga, a juicy fish skewer, a pickled lemon and tomato salad and a limited fish axis - imagine a glass of Umami glass full of sea hints.
Chef's recommendation - remove the slices from the skewer and mix.
We are disciplined and it was bingo.
We do not smoke and outside the degrees are in the zero zone, but it was kind of a moment like that when a voice bat whispers to us that we should stop everything and go for a jog outside.
At the same time, a completely different voice signaled to the Minister of Beverages to pour us another glass of arak and again the music overcame us for good and our way out to the frost accompanies us Akiva with the simple song.
"This is how I ask you to
keep us simple
house and pot on the fire
Your hug, children's laughter"
I listen to the familiar words and it's the exact moment.
Because this restaurant serves food whose wisdom is in its simplicity.
There is no downfall here for the proliferation of raw materials in every clean serving dish and the whole touches a stamp.
This restaurant excels in the cuisine that has developed in Israel in the last decade.
We return to our place at the bar, the kitchen is bustling and bustling, it's the highlight of the service and it's a lovely sight.
We continue - grilled lamb chops, garlic cream, sourdough leaves and potatoes wrapped and baked in dry herbs.
The ribs were everything they were expected to be.
The garlic cream was delicate and wonderful, on the potato I ask to linger, because it is just the kind of little thing that makes a dish in a restaurant memorable.
The potato arrived in a hard (edible) half-inch-thick spice shell, like a golden stone that we had to break, inside which a soft, hot and devoted potato was waiting for us.
There is a chance that from the days of World War II there has not been as much enthusiasm for Kartoshaks as was seen around our plate.
Not long after, a wintery dish of unloading risotto and fish, and a steamed cod dish then grilled with grinding lemons, chard, butrga and olive oil came out to the table.
And when we had already seen a blur of drunkenness and satiety, and we knew it was no longer possible, a dish of arais went out to the glory of the State of Israel, along with a salad of five types of tomatoes, green onions and chili.
Somehow heroically, and it was not easy, we ate it until there was no crumb left - heroes of glory.
With the bottle of wine empty and behind us four chasers each, we found ourselves begging to stop at the sweet stage.
Narrow to contain, fragrant and unable to converge in favor of leaving, and especially weak in character, we found ourselves dealing with a marzipan cigar in a spice syrup with cardamom ice cream and turmeric.
It was a great mix of Beirut nights and an almond cigar.
Not too sweet, not heavy and yet with crispy and sweet flavors that were left in our mouths and summed up wonderfully the special meal we had just finished.
We looked each other in the eyes and realized it was a good time to cement ourselves out of place.
Just before another dessert arrived we ran away as long as our souls in us, seventy and drunk, even left the coffee behind.
Our original idea to return to the hotel on foot, a distance of three kilometers through the spectacular streets of Paris - fell through in the editing, so we found ourselves admiring the view through the taxi window.
In the morning we woke up in a wide bed with the first rays of the sun penetrating the curtain and stroking us
pulling time between under the blanket and bringing back good memories from last night.
We had a lot of fun.
Paris is wonderful, and Amzaleg-run Market Market is on my list of favorites.
The prices are fair, the atmosphere is happy and the food is a song of praise for the good things that have happened to our local food.
shouk paris
59 rue de lancry, paris
@shoukparis
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