Sunday, January 14, 2018

A commercial message

A quick note about tonight's dinner: we went to a restaurant called Crave.

Go there.

I mean, now.

I mean drop everything, buy tickets to Israel, hop a cab and eat there. Sure, you might have to wait an hour in the rain and wind for a table. Sure, you will eventually be seated at a small table, on a stool. Sure, it will be noisy, parking will be impossible and the music will make it tough to hear yourself exist. But do it.

The waitstaff is really friendly. The service is incredibly quick and the food is wonderful. I had a Ruben with extra meat and lamb bacon. There was a slight antiseptic taste (I wish I could explain it better, sort of like a clean hospital, but I get the feeling that this is a sensory issue of mine in the way I perceive the smokiness of a Laphroig -- same thing), but the food was great. The Vodka Collins was delicious, an the blaring music was from the catalog of bands Dan likes. Other diners in our party (Eli, Maddie and Slaughter-dale) had things like the Primal, the brisket sandwich and something else I don't even recall. The wings were crispy and juicy, the nachos with fake cheese were delicious (I even ate a few pieces of hot pepper) and the onion rings were as good as any I have had in Israel (and better than many I have had elsewhere). The beer selection seemed nice and, based on reports from those who had, the desserts were killer. We got a ride back from Steve and I'm sitting here still full and savoring the memory of my sammich.

So go. Don't tell them Dan sent you because they don't care.

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