For those who are already on the bean, the morning coffee ritual is one of the most important parts of the day. If done right, you’re set up for success. But if there is a kink in the routine, I shudder to think about the headaches and struggles most definitely to follow. One of the most common threats to our routine is international travel—the thrilling adventure of being in a new place often comes at the risk of our particular coffee preferences being accommodated how we need them to be.

Tablet has a great list of some of Israel’s best cafes. But in case of a caffeine emergency, feel free to break this glass for where to get a familiar-feeling cup of joe as your top priority. Rather than bringing your own beans, grinder, and pour-over, use the below list to find some of the best places to get American style coffee in Israel. 

Advanced warning to coffee-holics: Do not expect a cup of coffee to be any larger than 8 oz. Coffee in Israel, even if third wave, is meant to be enjoyed fresh. If you need so much coffee to start your day, I suggest many smaller cups… and consultation with a medical professional. Soy milk is available most everywhere in Israel. Cafe hafukh is Hebrew for cappuccino and latte is often translated as cafe hafukh gadol bli ketzef (literally “large cappuccino without foam”).

In Tel Aviv, your morning should start with Israel’s leader in small batch coffee, Cafelix. Frequented by Israelis, Anglos, and European coffee lovers alike, the baristas here tend to each coffee with the care you expect of your dentist. If you find yourself by Rothschild and Independence Hall, walk five minutes to Coffee Shop 51, a neighborhood gem who finds inspiration for their coffee blends from the Beatles.

If you find yourself near Dizengoff, and given that you are in Tel Aviv, you probably will, your coffee cravings will be thrilled with Nahat, a self-described “coffee saloon.” This modern cafe is known for making “perfect” cups of coffee, which is probably how they came to host the upcoming Tel Aviv Barista Jam, a latte art competition and coffee appreciation evening.  Another important coffee shop is Mae, which has been selling coffee in Tel Aviv since 1941. They have an outpost across the street from Rabin Square.

But what should you do in Tel Aviv if you just need simple American-friendly coffee? Aside from flying in Starbucks (nearest location: Amman, Jordan) everyday, look to the local chains. With five branches in popular Tel Aviv tourist areas, Loveat could be your organic solution to this problem. They serve multiple types of filter coffee, offer cold brew in a bottle, and are consistently good. Especially if you are into cold brew (≠ ice coffee), this should be your go-to. If all you are looking for is an espresso drink, you won the jackpot. Most every cafe, bakery, and restaurant in Israel can pull a good espresso shot.

Espresso caution: Coffix and Coffiz are two Israeli chains selling coffee for 5 shekels/cup. Though it is cheap, it will not taste like your daily Dunkin’… then again, it is only $1.50, so you decide what you need.

Jerusalem has come to the realization that that there is more to coffee than botz and espresso. Botz, the Israeli slang for Cowboy Coffee, is what this list is helping you avoid. The Holy City is full of cafes and bakeries, especially in the downtown neighborhoods, where getting a simple cappuccino or americano is unavoidably easy. Cafelix, Israel’s leader in small batch coffee, has a location in Mahane Yehudah’s covered shuk that holds true to their exceptional quality. It also offers a great bar to people watch/take a break from the market.

If you are in the Old City and happen to be near the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, you will find a delightful respite in the Austrian Hospice, whose apple strudel and sachertorte go exceptionally well with their filter coffee, amazing views of the Old City, and strong wifi.

Another important American coffee haven in Jerusalem is Tachanat HaCafe (lit. “The Coffee Mill,” but sounds like “station for the coffee”), a small roasting house on Emek Refaim that has great filter coffee.

Good coffee in Israel is not unique to Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. If you are in the Negev and feeling unsatisfied with the Ethiopian and Bedouin styles of coffee, check out Cafe Lola in Beersheva.

If you find yourself on a tour in Sderot, go to the Sderot Teen Cafe and talk to a worker about their life and experience; the coffee will be fine, but the experience priceless.

If you are in Haifa, you will be comforted at AVA cafe, a downtown coffeehouse with a large selection of fresh-roasted beans, and at Cafe Hapina on the very hip Massada street.

Wherever you get your caffeine drip, toast to safe, happy, and healthy travels. L’Chaim!

Image via Pexels

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“See that God has given to y’all the Shabbat. Therefore God gives to y’all, on the sixth day bread, for two days.” (Exodus 16:29)

“Man does not live by bread alone.” (Deuteronomy 8:3)

I love fruit—mango season may be my favorite season—but if I had to choose only one food group for the rest of my life, it would be bread.  Bread is the universal staff of life onto which most cultures have held since the dawn of domesticated agriculture and civilizations. It’s also one of the few examples of foods that’s universally identified within the Jewish tradition as Jewish. (I am not saying all bread is Jewish, just that there are breads with unique or deep roots in Judaism.)

Case in point: matzah. “For seven days you will eat matzah [unleavened bread cakes]…” (Exodus 12: 15)

Matzah, the flatbread unique to Passover and kitschy Brooklyn startups, is described in the Torah, detailed over the ensuing millennia in various commentaries, and maintained as an annual ritual for Jews of all backgrounds and identities. There are different manifestations of matzah—some are more cracker-like while others tend towards a large, dry pita; but, the chemistry is the same: flour + water + hot, dry oven = kosher for Passover matzah in under 18 minutes.

Some other popular, historically Jewish breads include bagels (real bagels; don’t be fooled by the circular breads sold at McDonald’s, Einstein’s, and many other bakeries that are not boiled before baking), jachnun, and Moroccan mofleta (served at their post-Passover mimouna celebrations).

Aside from bagels, none of these are quite so famous or ubiquitous as challah.  This enriched bread is prepared for Shabbat and most other holidays (not Passover!). Recalling the showbreads in the temple, these loaves are historically grander and more refined than weekday breads. Furthermore, challah is presented in pairs, recalling the double portion of manna the Jews collected in the desert every Friday morning. For Shabbat evening in a traditional Jewish home, even if it’s a small gathering, the festive meal begins with a blessing over two loaves.

At a Shabbat meal I recently was welcomed to in Tel Aviv-Jaffa, one of the guests was so surprised to see two substantial challah loaves on the table. She asked why we needed two huge breads. Our host explained the tradition of remembering the commandment for Jews living in the land of Israel to tithe their bread (Numbers 15:20). The injunction to set aside a “challah” is the basis for the mitzvah of hafrashat challah, and a good reason for why the challah loaves for Shabbat are generally quite large. (Most orthodox rabbis hold that the dough must use between 3.66 and 5.5 lbs of flour to be eligible for a blessing.)   

I don’t make such large batches of challah, meaning that I don’t normally say the blessing. I still want to do something special with my challah. When I bring challah to a friend’s meal, or if I am hosting, I want people to take a moment to reflect on challah and Shabbat, which is how I came to make challah messages.

At the end of the day (or week), messages and bread sacrifices are simply proverbial cherries in my practice. Simply serving challah and matzah, the two core Jewish breads, makes that meal significant. A blessing over these breads, an explanation, or even a pause before eating, helps these cultural carbs create a link to a national history and communal identity.

These foods with their gluten (or not), bind me to Jews across history because at their very core, they are Hebrew breadstuffs derived from the Torah. From atheists to ultra-Orthodox, Zionist and not, using these Biblical Hebrew names reminds us that we are connected.

Jews are not a unified people—including in many aspects of cuisine— but we are brought together by our cultural breads. Hopefully we will always have a space to break bread with others, giving us a delicious space to share of ourselves, our history, and our tradition.

Image Credit: Pixabay

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I was recently invited to a friend’s for a potluck Shabbat dinner, and decided to bring homemade challah. As I was shaping my loaf, I was thinking about how beautiful it would be to have a rainbow challah. Growing up, my mother would occasionally dye the braids different colors to celebrate different holidays (Halloween was orange and black; Memorial Day and July 4 were red, white, and blue; Valentine’s Day was red, pink, and white in a heart shape) or big sport weekends (maize and blue for Thanksgiving Shabbos, orange and blue for Tigers opening day, red and white when the Wings made the playoffs, etcetera). But I thought of the color scheme too late to dye the sections.

I then thought I could dye sesame seeds and put them in a stripe pattern, inspired by the seeded challahs at Breads Bakery and My Most Favorite Food. But I didn’t have enough food coloring, so I had to do something else. Fortunately, I was struck with a great idea: make a stenciled message! So lo and behold, I made a Hebrew stencil.

You can use most any challah recipe you’d like for the dough (though check out the award-winning one from my family below), and then follow the instructions below to step up your challah game.

Some inspiration for messages include Shabbat Shalom (this one says so, in Hebrew) or Good Shabbos in Yiddish/English, heart shapes or peace signs, the name of the weekly parsha, an edible wedding proposal, or simple stripes of seeds. Do whatever you feel comfortable with, and it will be great.

1. Prepare a stencil (cut the letters out of wax paper with a utility knife).
2. Brush braided and risen challah with egg wash. Then lay the stencil on the challah.
   
3. Carefully pour/place seeds over stencil.
4. Blow or shake off extra seeds. Careful— they may go onto uncovered sections of your challah.
   
5. Remove stencil (gently!). Disclaimer about using a lot of small seeds: you will need to sweep.
6. If desired, carefully fill the void around stenciled design. This is unnecessary and purely aesthetic, but the black-on-white looks good.
7. Sweep up or vacuum the floor, which may by now be covered in seeds.

You can use any recipe, but I have been using my mother’s for as long as I could make a braid, and you’re welcome to it, too.

It has never lost a challah competition (but it has tied for first in a handful)!

Davida Robinson’s Challah recipe

• 2 packages of dry yeast (4.5 tsp)
• 3/4 cup + 1 teaspoon sugar
• 3 tablespoons vegetable oil
• 2 cups hot water + ¼ cup
• 3 eggs
• 7 – 8 cups flour (can split it whole wheat and white, but all white works too)
• 1 tablespoon honey

1. Dissolve yeast with one teaspoon of sugar in warm water.  Let stand 10 minutes to “proof.” (It will bubble up.)
2. Mix sugar, and oil in hot water.  Beat in 2 eggs, and then add proofed yeast mixture.
3. Gradually add flour and knead until smooth (not sticky).
4. Place dough in greased bowl, cover, and let rise for about one hour.
5. Divide dough in half to make two challot. At this point you can braid, wrap or knot your dough into whatever shape you wish and let rise on cookie sheet with parchment paper for another hour.
6. Brush with egg yolk and honey mixture and bake in oven at 350F for 30 minutes.  If you push in the top and it springs back it is done.

Feel free to share pictures of your decorated Challah! Tweet @JewcyMag, or tell us about it in the comments below.

Avery Robinson is a culinary historian from Detroit. He limits his baking during the summer to special occasions and when his roommate is not home.

Images courtesy of Avery Robinson

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