More Than A Meal

Mediterranean and Middle Eastern are not cuisines people traditionally associate with Miami. Latin and Caribbean—yes, absolutely; toss a coconut and it’s likely to land at the door of a spot offering Cuban croquettas, Jamaican jerk chicken, or Peruvian Nikkei ceviche. But Greek, Turkish, Persian, Lebanese, Israeli, Egyptian, and Moroccan flavors? These have been less celebrated, harder to find in Miami’s neon oasis.

Until recently, at least. Over the past few years—years of unparalleled growth and dizzying transformation—the city has been inundated with upscale Mediterranean and Middle Eastern food through a wave of ambitious chefs and restaurateurs adapting these traditions with the sort of flair squarely aimed at Miami’s increasingly sophisticated and global population. The Chicago-based Aba opened in the Bal Harbour Shops, while New York’s legendary Avra planted its flag at the posh Acqualina Resort in Sunny Isles. Toronto’s AMAL now serves upscale Lebanese in Coconut Grove, while Tom Aviv, winner of MasterChef Israel, presides over an Israeli “omakase” experience at Branja, in Upper Buena Vista.

Long before this hail of hummus, however, a number of local family-run establishments in town were cooking and serving similar food—if in less flashy settings, without the benefit of PR professionals and multimillion- dollar investments. What do they make of this sudden avalanche of upscale restaurants where the settings, and not just the food, are as regal as a sultan’s crash pad? They find it more emboldening than threatening.

Let’s say you’re hankering for an old-school shakshuka feast, complete with a side of pillowy pita bread, pitchers of mint-lemonade, and a boisterous room where Hebrew usurps English as the dominant language? You head to the no-frills North Miami joint Etzel Itzik—or Itzik’s Deli, as it’s locally known—where for the past 25 years owner Itzik Younis has created an experience that’s as close as to what you’ll get in Tel Aviv without leaving Dade County.

“I’m not worried about these places,” says Younis on a recent afternoon, referring to the glittering newcomers as he presides over his restaurant’s dining room, where the walls and tables are shellacked with photos of diners from over the years. “In fact, I hear all the complaints customers have about those new spots.” Most of those grumbles, he clarifies, are not focused on the food, but the service—diners being neglected or treated brusquely before laying eyes on a bill that is always much higher than anticipated.

“With me the complaint is different: ‘Oh you give too much food,’ people say to me,” he continues with a laugh, summarizing, perhaps, what he views as his recipe for longevity. “But I want people to leave happy.”

This desire—not just to please, but to make customers feel at home—is evidenced in the clatter of complimentary small salads that hit the table the minute you sit down, along with menu staples like the “hummus foul,” Itzik’s rendition of the lunches found in Israel’s hummus-only restaurants known as hummusiyas. The large platter of chickpea dip—doused with stewed fava beans, topped with a healthy dollop of tahini and a hard-boiled egg—initially seems too simple to function as a full meal. But as diners divvy up their pitas and start swabbing pieces through hummus, it becomes clear this is all anyone needs.

Nicolas Mazzawi’s father opened The Daily Bread in Pinecrest, in South Miami, 45 years ago. Originally a market with a small take-out menu, over time they expanded into its current form: a counter-service restaurant with an open kitchen and a menu of over 40 items that showcase flavors not only from the family’s ancestral home of Nazareth, Israel, but across the Middle East. You enter to shop for groceries—spices, nuts, olives, Syrian teas—and are quickly tempted by the aromas emanating from the deli case and counter containing prepared dishes: lamb and beef gyro, oregano-flecked salad, chicken marinated in mustard and turmeric, vegan- friendly falafel, and fried kibbe, oval-shaped croquettes made of a crispy cracked wheat shell filled with seasoned ground beef and onions.

“It is all about consistency,” says Mazzawi, who grew up stocking shelves in the space and now runs it with his brother, Shaddy. “I always find when a new business or restaurant starts up, they are good, but after some time the quality and service go down. Restaurants start cutting corners when things get expensive, they try to find cheaper alternatives, but for us quality is a priority. We know customers will notice if the food isn’t consistent and high quality.”

If there’s anyone who seems to have bridged these two worlds—old school and new, fast-casual and full-service, homespun and hip—it’s Jaffa owner Yaniv Cohen. Also known as the Spice Detective and author of My Spiced Kitchen, he hails from Israel but has Tunisian roots, a background that informs his singular cooking at Jaffa.

The restaurant, named after the oldest port city in Tel Aviv, famous for its picturesque alleys and ancient buildings, began in 2018 as a stall at the MIA Market food hall in the Design District. Last year, after two arduous years of construction during the pandemic, he added a brick-and-mortar location in Hallandale—an airy, inviting room, along with an outdoor patio, where dishes like turmeric roasted cauliflower and deconstructed baba ganoush are served against a a soundtrack of Arabic and Israeli pop.

“The reason why I chose to open a full restaurant was so I can really give people an experience,” explains Cohen, winner of Netflix’s Best Leftovers Ever. “At the food hall we were sharing a commissary kitchen with other chefs, so we didn’t have the luxury to make some of these dishes. Everything at the food hall needs to be almost pre-made because the customers need a quick delicious lunch. At our restaurant I try to take you to another place—to the city of Jaffa.”