Shishi Shuk: Jewish soul food

Invited to a party in Jerusalem’s Katamon neighborhood, my colleague and I stopped momentarily in front of a billboard opposite where he had parked his car. In big letters, we saw the word “cholent.” Each of us was raised on Eastern European cuisine, albeit in different parts of the world, but the traditional Sabbath stew is something that appeals enormously to both our palates.

The proprietor, Reuben Guetta, was in the outdoor area, and we noticed his large kippa (skullcap) and ritual fringed garment, which served to indicate that this was an enterprise in which Jewish dietary laws were strictly observed.

We decided to return at the earliest opportunity. Guetta advised us that the best night was a Thursday. And so on Lag Ba’omer, some four hours before the tragedy in Meron, we were back at Shishi Shuk, which translates as “Sabbath Market.” We quickly realized that – as is frequently the case elsewhere in Jerusalem, as well as in Tel Aviv and presumably other cities – Shishi-Shuk started out as neighborhood kiosk and mushroomed into a restaurant. The seating is on an outdoor patio. The indoor area is very small with just enough room for a counter, a glassed-in refrigerator for cakes and other desserts, a table on which menu items are displayed, a small stand-alone refrigerator and another small refrigeration unit built high into the wall for salads and chopped liver.

During the coronavirus crisis, Shish-Shuk did a roaring trade in take-away items.

Even though it was already dark by the time we arrived, we were the only restaurant customers, though there was a steady stream of people – both religious and secular, judging by their attire – who came in and left with white paper shopping bags filled with delicacies in plastic containers.

We started our meal with red cabbage rolls, asado wrapped in filo pastry, chopped liver and potato kugel. The cabbage rolls could have done with a little more seasoning, but the asado was simply delicious, and we would have been happy to make it a main meal. The chopped liver and the potato kugel both needed extra salt, but once it was administered, they were much tastier, and the chopped liver was designated for being included in the order at a future visit.

The food was served on disposable plates and with plastic flatware, which was a little off-putting, but the lone waitress was so pleasant and obliging that we refrained from complaining or asking for regular flatware. The plates were brought to us in what looked like metal baking dishes, which was a good idea, because it meant that each course could be brought to the table in its entirety, without any spills on the way.

Even before we began eating, we were “serenaded” by evening prayers. There are a lot of religiously observant people in this part of Katamon, and we saw some people dressed as haredim and others in jeans and shorts, who gathered in the street outside. We also heard diversely accented Hebrew as they recited prayers, standing at least 1.5 meters away from each other.

FOR OUR main course, we naturally chose cholent, and our friendly waitress asked if we wanted vegetarian or meat. We opted for the latter, which came with a very generous portion of succulent beef, but the waitress had forgotten to add the kishke, which we had originally asked for. It was just as well, because the large helping of cholent was so filling that we would not have had room for the kishke.

Though most East European cholent recipes have potatoes and beans as their basic ingredients, we have discovered on our cholent forays in different restaurants in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv that the amount of water placed in the pot has a strong influence on the taste. In Tel Aviv, we found the cholent to be barely moist, either because it had been in the oven for a long time, or because not much water had been put in the pot, but in Jerusalem’s Mea She’arim, though tasty, the cholent had been very runny, and there was more liquid on the plate than anything of substance.

But at Shishi-Shuk, there was just enough liquid to keep the cholent moist without dominating the plate. The liquid was semi-sweet, which surprisingly my colleague who was raised on Lithuanian Jewish cuisine actually enjoyed. I, coming from a Polish household, absolutely loved it.

Of course, the recipes for cholent varied in different parts of Poland, but one of my cousins who lives in Protea Hills outside Jerusalem still makes the cholent that was prevalent in our parents’ hometown of Czestochowa, where instead of diced potatoes, they were grated. As a result, the taste is quite different. A typical Czestochowa apple cake is also made with grated apples and not sliced ones.

While we were savoring our cholent, another group of men came and prayed in the street outside, and a haredi man with white beard and payot who had come for take-away, stopped by our table to give us a blessing. By that time, there were already a few more diners in the restaurant.

We then remembered that Guetta, who was not present, had told us that most people come after nine o’clock. 

Although the cholent had really hit the spot, we decided to linger for a while, because we wanted to taste the French pastries, which included small lemon meringue pies and pear tarts. We ordered one of each and split each in half so that we could each taste both. They were simply melt-in-the-mouth quality.

Even though we were fixated on cholent, the extensive menu, as Guetta had told us, caters for both the European and the Middle Eastern palate. It includes all the usual Middle Eastern salads plus coleslaw, three kinds of salmon priced at NIS33 per helping, as well as Moroccan fish and gefilte fish  which are priced at NIS 25 and NIS 29 respectively, a variety of chicken and beef dishes ranging in price from NIS 30 to NIS 36, and various kugels at only NIS 5 per slice.

The most expensive items on the menu were actually multiples, such as half a kilo of schnitzels for NIS 50 or four helpings of meat cholent with kishke for NIS 129, compared to NIS 99 for four helpings of vegetarian cholent with kishke.

Our total bill, including the cost of a container of zhoug, bread and a two-liter bottle of refreshing lemon juice – which in Hebrew was called lemonada but was not lemonade – came to NIS 235. According to the waitress, Guetta cooks everything himself.

It seems that tipping is not a custom in Katamon, or if it is, it’s minimal. Because the waitress was so nice, she received a tip slightly in excess of the usual 12% to 15%. 

“Are you sure?” she asked.

We were sure, and we’ll back, despite the throw-away plates and plastic flatware.