Even if it tried - and they all try these days, both naturally and artificially, as required by the times and the situation - it is doubtful that the Pastel restaurant would have succeeded in truly separating what is happening outside from what is happening inside, after the transparent glass door closes behind you.
Even if she really wanted to - and no one really wants to, despite the times and despite the situation and despite our dismal food economy - she could not place shiny plates on white tablecloths, and let the large bouquets of flowers scattered on the bar bloom just like that, without context.
Its location, barely half a level, and a small mini-diagonal, from the Kidnapped Square, eliminates any attempt and eliminates any desire, putting in proportions the plates and tablecloths, the bouquets and the flowers and the food as well. And yet, and in spite of that, move on move.
Summer dreams Pastel
Pastel's summer menu was dreamed up, I suppose, with a real Israeli summer in mind - hot indeed, and one that requires daily drinking, but also moderately happy and moderately optimistic. Days passed, weeks passed, months passed. Days go by, weeks go by, months go by. And the summer is at its peak, more scorching hot, disproportionately sad, and optimistic only if you are one of those people who manage to harness hope even now.הצגת פוסט זה באינסטגרם
Itzik Hengel insists. Gal Ben Moshe insists as well. The first one brings an unusual, unusual point of view of someone who could go out and doesn't stop coming together. The second brings an equally unusual perspective, of someone who goes in and out of our borders non-stop. Without them, the (personal, but certainly also Israeli) flagship that is Pastel would have lifted anchor a long time ago. With them, she looks to the horizon, and continues.
The menu starts with, of course, small and mean, invested and welcome greetings. Crispy rice flower with cream, burnt peppers and mussels, corn tartlet with smoked aioli and chopped celery and shrimp wrapped in kadaif with avocado cream - in an individual format (two in each dish) or as a collective that comes to the table (with friends in the form of a warm and excellent bread basket, whipped butter, olive oil and balsamic, olives and spicy plate) for NIS 158 per couple.
From there, temperatures rise at once, and cool down a second later, in a deliciously fluctuating heart-stomach echo. Fried padron with labaneh and cumin (NIS 58) or beef tartar with potato gratin (NIS 98).
An innocent-looking kohlrabi salad, but tangy and surprisingly present with Omer cheese and green-green castor beans (NIS 72) or fish sashimi with a great mango-ginger vinaigrette.
The carrot soup. The soup, and the carrot, a pastel hit that you don't understand the story of until you sit down to read the bowl yourself, with a big spoon, and a big smile.
Ben Moshe's entrees make sure to tread on the same tricky seam of climate and temperatures, Israeli soil and a kitchen that has seen things.
"Summer gnocchi" (NIS 108), for example, avoids creamy and heavy pitfalls, is seared in brown butter and adds glazed pumpkin, pumpkin cream, pumpkin seeds, sheep's feta cheese and sage. Fish crudo, for its part, pulls eastward with citrus fruits and kaffir lime oil and an Eastern European street corner brings together mamaliga (seared, with mushrooms and asparagus and gruyere) and pierogi (stuffed with vine leaves, with sour cream and pine nuts) into a summit here and there.
Yes, it's clear that Pastel knows how to take out a chunky steak and grilled Mediterranean fish, cover a hamburger with cheddar and fry fries. She does not shy away from classics and does not force innovations and experiences on you. Her audience, in return, is devoted to her and gives herself to her, dancing well on a square whose borders are tradition and whose surface is renewed wooden beams. It is impossible without the frame. Not fun without the fun inside the lines.
This is also reflected in the bar, which happily rattles off "Rosemaryta" (tequila, Cointreau, rosemary and grapefruit), even more happily pairs gin and cilantro, and in general reinforces a holistic service-entertainment experience that is almost rare in the city, very rare in Israel.
The dessert section (NIS 58-68) led by Olivia Ferreira Netter, in dialogue with the pastel language, and Ben Moshe's positive spin.There's a chocolate mousse with crème anglaise and candied pine nuts and high-end tiramisu, frozen yogurt with glazed pears and thyme, and also a crunchy brainchild that highlights fig cream and pecan semifreddo.
And there is also "The Dancer", an homage to the exhibition that celebrated 150 years of Impressionism at the adjacent Tel Aviv Museum, and then came here to celebrate an Impressionist dessert in the form of goat's milk flan, glazed fruits, Kadaif and mahleb whipped cream based on cherry kernels. Degas' ballet, Olivia's ballet.
Ben Moshe works quietly, manages quietly and very unsurprisingly also speaks quietly. This is evident in his food, and it is even more evident when the food ends to the sorrow of the eaters, in a minute or two of conversation, which is a whole world. This conversation is devoid of shouting, but deafening in its meanings, and in the reality it reflects. He recounts days that start normally and end with a deluge of cancellations because someone "heard something," and tells of other days of hard awakenings and absolutely hectic lunch meetings that purpose a person's intense attraction to being.
Forcefully, and gently. These days, all of them, end at a nearby hotel, where he looks out from his room at the Kraya base and takes comfort, if there is any consolation, in the fact that this is probably the safest hotel in the country. His other days open in far away Berlin, stretching the rope connecting Israel to the outside world, rocking everything you thought was stable, examining connections and challenging decisions. Just like Kangal, he chooses to smile at all these, and continue. By itself, and together. They can, they can.
Pastel, Sderot Shaul Hamelech 27, Tel Aviv, 03-6447441