During the craziness that was our latest mini-war, we sought an oasis of sanity in which to enjoy an afternoon of tranquility. The irony was not lost on us that we found it in a cluster of Arab villages in the Jerusalem Corridor: Abu Ghosh and Ein Rafa, adjacent to Ein Hemed National Park.
It turns out that a young sous-chef working there, Jay Jalil, was discovered by chef Meir Adoni, who recruited him to work at his flagship restaurant in Tel Aviv at the time, Catit.
Now, the American-born Jalil has returned to the village to helm the kitchen at Reshta, the restaurant founded by chef Ranem Barhum four years ago.
“Reshta is a farm-to-table restaurant,” says Barhum. “We grow most of our own vegetables, and purchase the rest from local farmers.”
The three restaurants operating in the village enjoy an unusually cooperative relationship for would-be competitors, since Majda is open only on weekends, and the third establishment serves only breakfasts. Reshta serves lunch and dinner six days a week; it is closed on Sundays.
“When we opened,” Jalil recalls, “the owners of Majda closed and brought all their customers to us.” The two restaurants continue to refer their overflows to the other.
There are a number of similarities between Reshta and Majda, both when it comes to decor and menu. The place to sit in both is on the shaded stone patios surrounded by greenery. Some of Reshta’s dishes are variations on what Jalil used to prepare in Majda.
The food menu (in Hebrew only, although the chef’s native language is English) at Reshta comprises five sections: Appetizer Platter (NIS 50), Starters (NIS 34-60), Main Courses (NIS 75-110), Desserts (NIS 20-30) and Kids’ Meals (NIS 50). Although there are no vegetarian main courses, there are ample vegan/vegetarian options in the other categories. Special dishes are prepared on weekends.
As we sat down in anticipation of a chef-selected tasting menu, our friendly waiter Moustafa brought a welcome drink: tamarind juice. Thick and sweet, when diluted with water and ice it served as a refreshing drink throughout the meal.
“We want to distinguish ourselves from the run-of-the-mill shipudiya,” says Jalil. “There are plenty of those across the road [in Abu Ghosh].”
Instead, we were treated to a colorful array of six salads, which rotate daily in accordance with the availability of the freshest produce. Alongside olives cured in sumac, strips of pickled red pepper, a mild tomato salsa and tomato and garlic confit were two standout salads: the house tzatziki, and glistening chunks of ruby-red beets. The former was made from goat yogurt and labaneh generously laced with cucumber and garlic and sprinkled with toasted slivered almonds, while the latter were beets in a robust (and not sweet) marinade, served with pecorino cheese.
Next came two very different starters, each made for sharing. We commenced with the Za’atar Sticks – savory twigs of pastry stuffed with kashk (a cheese fashioned from strained yogurt), seasoned with Lebanese sumac, za’atar and olive oil. Like any familiar salty snack (e.g., peanuts or pretzels), these were just as addictive, although infinitely more complex.
The Kubbe Siniye, meanwhile, might be considered Reshta’s signature starter: a quiche-like mixture of burghul and lamb, in a rich yet mild blend of seasonings, and featuring more of the restaurant’s trademark toasted slivered almonds.
At first, my companion balked at the very idea of lamb, but the owner suggested we give it a try, insisting that this lamb is different from anything we might have had in the past. And he was right: the tabun-baked siniye was so good we could have eaten it as a main course.
Later, Jalil revealed the secret: “Most lamb and sheep in Israel are fed oats, and the result is a strong smell and taste that puts many people off. We, on the other hand, source grass-fed lamb, which is something else entirely.”
Our main course was perhaps Reshta’s flagship dish: the restaurant’s interpretation of a classic Chicken Musakhan – half a golden-brown spring kitchen, impressively plated on a house pita smothered with caramelized onion and chopped parsley, and surrounded by a bed of canary-yellow lemon cream with pine nuts and – naturally – toasted slivered almonds. This had not been our initial choice of main course; but once again, the chef proved right: this was an exceptional dish, enhanced by an intense lemon condiment (which had to be employed cautiously, lest it overpower the poultry).
Desserts are the usual suspects from Levantine cuisine, but our kanafeh – indeed, like all the rest of what we tasted during our leisurely meal – was a cut above what Israelis are likely to find in other local restaurants.