At Machneyuda in Jerusalem, where you will pay between $20 and $50 per person for a main course (A LOT by Israeli standards), you get none of the above-mentioned superfluous details. And yet the resulting meal manages to surpass all expectations.

The decor harkens to your grandmother's cottage; the plates and cutlery are a garage-sale mismatch. The music varies from modern dance hits to Israeli 70s rock to what can only be the described as the sounds of Saloniki (bouzouki, breaking plates). The location is on a dirty street right off the Machne Yehuda Market.

And yet, the resulting dining experience at Machneyuda is so exquisite, so perfect in every way, that the third ingredient of a perfect meal - the conversation - just naturally occurs.

As for the food? We tried the much-hyped polenta, and it really was as incredible as everyone says: like sinking your spoon into a cloud of cheese and butter. The calamari starter blew us away - it was the most perfect preparation of this ingredient I've ever tried, not at all chewy and paired with a zesty tomato sauce. G and my father loved the famous Shikshukit, which is a ground beef dish that builds on the ubiquitous Israeli dish lachmajun.

For mains, G tried the filet mignon, my dad some meat dish I can't remember, and my mother and I split the drum fish, which in Hebrew is called "Mimaakim Karatich," a play on words on one of the most beautiful verses in the book of Psalms.

Desserts included Uri's mom's famous semolina cake with tahini ice cream and fruit, Bavarian cream and a homemade cheesecake. Only the first really blew us out of the water, but after the incredible meal we've just had, our standards were pretty high. Plus, we're not sweets people, so don't take  my word on the desserts.

But as the menu changes daily, don't expect to find everything we've tried on your visit.

Overall, even though I looked forward to this meal for months, I can honestly say that it completely surpassed our expectations. My parents, who weren't as excited at the prospect of eating in the heart of one of Israel's dirtiest and loudest markets (though they like Levinsky market in Tel Aviv), could not believe this kind of food was being cooked by mere mortals in their own country. In short, it was incredible.

The only downside is that I didn't have my good camera. My apologies, dear reader.

I don't know how they do it, but Machenyuda found the formula for a truly perfect meal.

Liked this restaurant review? There's a few more coming from both Israel and Germany, on Fridays in upcoming weeks! You can also see 5 of my favourite Israeli street food recommendations from last week.  For more foodie goodness, you should follow me on Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, Bloglovin', or Twitter, subscribe to my mailing list, or contact me about advertising and becoming a sponsor.

If you make one of my recipes, don't forget to tag it #immigrantstable @immigrantstable!

The post {Restaurant Recommendation} My visit to Machneyuda, Jerusalem appeared first on At the Immigrant's Table.

As part of my decision to travel somewhere every month since September 2016, I went with three girlfriends for a week on the Island of Maui, Hawaii, in late January 2017. These are the photos and tales of my Hawaii adventures.

"You are putting too much coffee in!"

"Don't add so much water."

"You gotta give this one stir clockwise, and then another counter clockwise."

"Are you sure this is right? It looks like muddy rain water..."

We were all huddled around the French Press, our elbows and stomachs uncomfortably pressed into the green picnic table. Around us, the Hawaii sky was just coming into its own, a mix of strong sunlight and gentle rain. We were nearly holding our breaths with anticipation, waiting for the black liquid gold to come pouring into our cups. Four women, seven opinions, one pot of coffee. What could ever go wrong?

But first, let's back up. On our first full day in Hawaii, we took one of the world's most scenic drives, the road to Hana. Stuffed into a fully equipped VW Westphalia camper van named Ruby, we were anxious to explore Maui's nooks and crannies, and the road's 617 hairpin turns and 110 single-lane bridges. Plus all of the fruit stands it had to offer.

Somewhere along our search for fruit stands, we all became desperate for some coffee. But nothing struck our fancy among the dozens of gaudy, overpainted shacks that hid in all potential stops along the famous road. They all felt like tourist traps, and after all, we were savvy world travellers... We could do better, we thought.

And then we saw it. Decked in fairy lights and topped with a freshly painted green roof, Hana Harvest stood on a muddy hill somewhere near Hana itself (I am not so good with directions). The long bar tables outside were made out of barely finished wood, and flowers stood in Mason jar pots everywhere the eye could see. In other words, it looked like an Instagram photo waiting to happen.

Naturally, we walked in.

We learned that Hana Harvest has just opened a few weeks ago, a total newbie when it came to the cutthroat world of Hana Road commerce. The two proprietors were two young, beautiful women who were born, raised and now worked in the farms in East Maui. They were passionate about their local products, and couldn't wait to tell us about the fruit smoothies they made fresh daily. Well, one of them couldn't wait... her partner was clearly the silent, brooding type.

"Yes, but here's the thing. We want to buy a bag of ground coffee for the week. Do you have something like that?" I asked.

I had no idea what I was in for.

"Boy, do we ever. But it's not just any coffee. We are the sole carrier in the world of Maui Estate Coffee, located in nearby Kula, HI. That coffee is extremely unique - it is harvest and grown entirely by hand, by a husband and wife team. They do all the roasting, as well. They just won second place in the Maui Cupping Competition. This is actually the only place in the world where you can buy this coffee, simply because there isn't enough of this to go around."

You can imagine my reaction. My eyes grew bigger with each uttered word, shining with a fervour usually reserved for religious experience. For a food blogger, this lady's words were mana - hyper-local, organic, hand-grown, husband and wife team, superb taste. Sweeter words have never been spoken.

"And how much is a bag?"

"Well, because it's so unique, it's $39. USD."

For 8 oz.

And we bought it.

So you can imagine why, when we all huddled around that French Press the following morning, we actually held our breaths as the coffee steeped.

At about $2 a cup, this coffee was by far the most luxurious java we were ever going to taste.

And the taste? Well, I am no fan of the French Press, but even that could transmit the taste of the beans: rich, mellow, almost caramel-like. The coffee was strong and beautiful, and it helped revive our spirits each morning.

And the best part is, we saved some to take home - where I put it into reusable pods and made myself a cup of espresso. And that, dear reader, was definitely the way to go.

* * *

Photo by Meredith Pind

Besides coffee, our second day in Maui included a hike to the Seven Sacred Pools, where our eyes feasted on the most beautiful vista I've ever seen within the first ten minutes, and ended up on a hike that took us through a magical bamboo forest. Some of us jumped off cliffs into the ocean, while others took a dip in the Venus Pools. We made new friends, bought coconuts from the side of the road, and ate THE BEST mahi mahi tacos at Braddah Huts, a highly recommended food truck on the side of the road by the Venus Pools area.

Just look how happy I am eating them.

But after dedicating over 700 words to telling you about coffee, I feel like I need to save some stories for next time.

For more of more Hawaii travel guides:

• my hawaii adventures: maui, day i + avocado and passion fruit tuna carpaccio
• my hawaii adventures: maui, day iii + black lava rocks, doggie kisses and letting it all soak in
• my hawaii adventures: maui, day iv + la perouse bay, and the beauty that is in the grotesque
• my hawaii adventures, day v

The post {TRAVEL} My Hawaii Adventures: Maui, Day II + the perfect cup of Maui Estate Coffee appeared first on At the Immigrant's Table.

A giant bowl of olives greeted us as soon as we walked into Herbert Samuel, conveniently located on the boardwalk in Tel Aviv, steps away from Dan Panorama (though its address is on Koiffman Street). Nestled in one of the most elaborate bars I've ever seen, I knew those olives had one goal - to decorate a dirty martini - and I felt like we came to the right place.

Despite the promise of martinis, the three of us ordered slightly more exotic cocktails. My mother went with something with berries and lychee, I asked for the least sweet thing in the house, and Yana wanted a pink thing. All were excellent, and all had us laughing hysterically within the 15 minutes upon arrival - the markings of a good, stiff cocktail in my books.

We ordered the lunchtime menu, a steal at 88 Israeli shekels (about $22 USD, or $29 CAD). That included a magnificent bread bowl of homemade breads and extremely cold freshly churned butter, which was gone very quickly - again, the markings of a job well done for the cocktails, which needed some soaking up.

It's important to note, at this point, that the staff at Herbert Samuel was incredibly kind, thoughtful and accommodating about my food sensitivities. After a discussion with the kitchen, only the appropriate dishes were recommended, and adjustments were made when I was really set on trying something that came with a butter or soy sauce. This immediately set a good tone for the meal, and made me feel much more relaxed about eating and not worrying about cross-contamination.

For our starters, we ordered the famous "Herbert Samuel" Tomatoes Salad, the Tuna & Yellowtail carpaccio with "Gunkan" Daykon & Wasabi, and the beef Santa Fe Tartare. The tomatoes salad was perfectly seasoned and colourful, a little bite of freshness in a country whose tomatoes are some of the best you'll ever have. Though I could not taste the beef tartare, my mother claimed it was the best dish of the lot. My tuna carpaccio was a feast on the eyes - the combination of colours, the presentation, and the little bites of wasabi were incredible, and came together to present a cohesive vision for a meal that would incorporate many Asian flavours, celebrate the fruits of the sea and artfully tread the line between refined and hoity-toity.

As we were located on the seashore of the Mediterranean, it only made sense that our meal would focus on fish. After the excellent starter, both my mother and I ordered more fish course: her, the Grey Mullet with Leeks, one of her favourite fish that came soaked in butter on a skillet straight to the table. The flavour here was pure perfection - grilled well on the skin side, and plump and juicy on the flesh side. The leeks themselves were a study in French cooking: almost fawning over with their own succulence and buttery sauce.

My main was the Salmon with the Red Cashew Glaze & Bok Choy a-la Plancha. Though the sauce contained a small amount of soy, it was omitted from the final presentation, and I knew I could tolerate that little amount. And I am ever glad I did - the red cashew glaze was completely unique, and the salmon tasted earthy and fresh. Though the dish lacked the refinement of my mother's grey mullet, it was still one for the books.

Yana, as per her usual, ordered the most meaty dish on the menu - the sirloin steak on the bone. I guess it was great as she inhaled it (sorry, meat eaters! Really not sure what to tell ya).

Stuffed and perfectly content with one of the best meals I've had this year, we left Herbert Samuel with huge smiles on our faces. We were so content, in fact, that I left my prized cardigan in the cab back... Another sign of a boozy lunch well done.

Herbert Samuel Tel Aviv, 6 Koifman St, Tel Aviv, 03-5166516 for reservations

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Cheap food isn't hard to find in Israel. But if you want to go off the beaten path, here are my top 5 undiscovered cheap eats in Israel.

Street food in Israel is truly an empire. In a land abundant with fresh produce, excellent cheese and high-quality olive oil, it's not hard to believe that good food should come cheap. And today, I'd like to take you beyond beyond chickpea fritters and shaved meat on a spittle; here are my top 5 undiscovered cheap eats in Israel.

The Blue Bus

Derech Hayam 16, Pardes Hana

With some of the best hummus outside of Jerusalem, perfectly chopped Israeli salad and change from a 50 shekel bill on a meal for three, The Blue Bus is well worth a detour into Pardes Hana. Enjoy some of the best views in Israel along the way, and don't forget to stop by Caesaria while you're at it.

Pizzeria Caldo 

Derech Metzada 47, Be'er Sheva

Maybe I'm biased (after all, it's practically my hometown), but I truly think some of the best food in Israel can be found on the dusty streets of Be'er Sheva. But in a city full of little gems, Pizzeria Caldo may be the best of the bunch: with high-quality ingredients, inventive topping combinations and non-kosher options like meat

and seafood on your cheese pie, this place is a must for any foodie. And at a price of 35 shekels, each pizza feeds two.

Dawini

Beit Yaakov 6, Jerusalem

It was G who first spotted Dawini hiding behind a blue awning on a side alley in the Machne Yehuda market in Jerusalem (not to be confused with Levinsky Market in Tel Aviv). At first, I wasn't crazy about the menu of pitas and fries (chips in Hebrew); it seemed pedestrian and overpriced. But when our order came to the table, it only took one bite to really blow me away. The 'chips' were some of the best I've ever had, a mess of deep-fried home fries and crispy onion rings with a mound of aioli, fresh tomatoes and parsley on top. Both pitas we tried (the mullet hraime and crispy red mullet) were incredible, with a perfect balance of textures and explosive flavours. Though not as cheap as some of the other entries on this list, Dawini would be a steal at even double the price.

Pasta Basta

Various locations, Israel

This relatively new chain was another lucky discovery for me. I had relatively low expectations from a pasta fast-food chain, but based on recommendations from friends, I gave Pasta Basta a try - and I'm so glad I did! With house-made pastas, quick turn-around, vegan options and a choose-your-adventure menu, it's little wonder all the locations of Pasta Basta are constantly buzzing with people. We tried several pasta and sauce combinations, two of the three desserts and the home-made iced tea, and nearly each one was a home-run, though the vegan beet pasta with coconut curry sauce and the creamy beet sauce were my favourites. Prices range between 25 and 40 shekels. 

Cheap drinks:

Tishbi Restaurant

Nili Boulevard, Zichron Yaakov

What is one of Israel's best and most expensive eateries doing on the list of my list of cheap eats Israel, you may ask? It's here for its wine. At the price of 5 shekels a glass or 18 shekels for a liter, Tishbi's house red (a Syrah on our visit) is one of the cheapest ways I've ever encountered to get yourself good and liquored.

Bonus: 8-shekel beer

HaCarmel Market, Tel Aviv

Though not it's not easy to find, those in the know swear by a small stand in the Carmel Market in Tel Aviv that sells 8-shekel ice-cold beer to anyone who dares venture beyond the meat alley. It's located next to a juice stand, and has no seating options - but for 8 shekels, you can damn well take your beer to go, or go look for your own park bench. I recommend the one next to the Laundromat just a few streets down.

The post {TRAVEL} My foodie guide to the top 5 cheap eats in Israel appeared first on At the Immigrant's Table.

I came home from two weeks in the Holy Land armed with snaps from Israel of great meals, memories of new and exciting flavours, and a ton of inspiration. Check out my Food Snaps from Israel: My Israel Foodie Guide.

Last night, I landed in Montreal after two weeks in my homeland, Israel. Armed with a kilogram of hummus and some of the best vegan cheeses I ever tasted, I was greeted by a friend, a bouquet of flowers, and an empty apartment.

There have been changes around here, changes I'm not quite ready to talk about publicly yet - but suffice to say that your love and support is much appreciated at this time.

But most importantly for our purposes, I came home armed with snaps from Israel from great meals, memories of new and exciting flavours, and a ton of inspiration. So stay tuned for great things to come!

Snap 1: Hummus Abu Adham

The first great meal I had on this trip and with which I open my snaps from Israel foodie guide was at what is arguably the best hummus joint in Tel Aviv, Hummus Abu Adham.

I arrived there with a friend on a Wednesday evening to what looked like an empty restaurant, only to watch the people come pouring in within half an hour of our entry.

This may not be the cleanest or fanciest joint on earth, but what it lacked in charm it made up for in great hummus - smooth, with foul and mesabacha (which they call mesahwasha, and which you can learn to make like a pro by buying my e-book).

Snap 2: Albi

Next followed a visit to Albi, a new Middle Eastern restaurant in Beer Sheva. The roasted eggplant here came drizzled with tahini, colourful cherry tomatoes, garlic and whole chickpeas.

The hummus came topped with plump, juicy sauteed mushrooms. You can imagine my response.

Snap 3: Wadi Attir

I visited Wadi Attir, a Bedouin sustainability project aimed at teaching the young generation healthy eating and agricultural habits, all based on traditional Bedouin practices.

We saw goats and fields of medicinal herbs, and I learned that farms where animals have lots of room to roam and eat actually smell nice. Word.

Snap 3: The Butchery

I ate in a fancy steakhouse in Beer Sheva, and as a vegetarian thought that the best thing  on the table was a crisp green salad with cranberries.

Snap 4: Tevale

I had an amazing vegan breakfast at Tevale in Tel Aviv, a chain of vegan cafes and restaurant.

First off, the fact that Israel has a chain of vegan restaurants is, in itself, incredible. Second, their chalva acai smoothie bowl was possibly the best blended food I ever had.

I ended the trip and my snaps from Israel foodie guide with a visit to the Wine Festival in Beer Sheva, an annual event now in its second year. Located by a renovated railroad car from the turn of the last century, the setting couldn't have been more magical - with loads of twinkling lights, paved cobblestones and trees.

And with an entry ticket of 50 NIS (equivalent to about $13USD) that gets you unlimited tastings and a brand new wine glass, this was also quite the deal.

Snap 5: Hiking

In non-food related snaps from Israel, I hiked in a dessert oasis and swam in a natural pool with a beautiful waterfall. So that was really uninteresting and not at all fun.

Not pictured here, but worth noting: an amazing meal at the Otentit in Beer Sheva, a great market-driven restaurant with food that tastes like your grandma made it but that looks like it came from the kitchen of a 5-star chef restaurant; a latte from LoveEat in Tel Aviv, one of my favourite spots to grab a coffee and sit down for a long study session or business meeting; and gluten-free chocolate cookies from Seeds, a vegan patisserie in Tel Aviv.

How have you been the last two weeks?

The post {TRAVEL} Food snaps from Israel: My Israel Foodie Guide appeared first on At the Immigrant's Table.

I am spending the next week and a half in sunny Beer Sheva, Israel, where summer seems to have lingered a bit too long and people think that 35C is "actually quite cool". Where my parents talk to me like I am at once a grown woman who should take better care of her now-wrinkle-prone skin, and a child who should be reminded how to cross the street. Where people are warm and loud, tenacious and rude, and can't seem to learn how to stand in line. Where it's OK to smile at strangers, and eat your hummus with a piece of onion.

And where I am working, planning, executing and healing.

So forgive me if updates will be a bit sporadic for the next couple of weeks. A Montreal delegation will keep me busy long days, and time spent with friends and family will fill the nights. Planning, hoping and dreaming for the future will fill the gaps of time in between. And through it all, good food will form a glowing vein of inspiration and connectivity, filling me with new ideas and experiences that I can better transmit to you later.

Much love! xoxo K

The post {TRAVEL} Traipsing through Israel in the midst of heartbreak appeared first on At the Immigrant's Table.

It has only been seven days since you got back. I repeat those words to myself like a mantra on a regular basis, each time I look in the mirror.

It's only been seven days since you got off that plane. Seven days of jet lag. Four working days at a brand new, big, scary, exhilarating job where I really want to prove myself. Three days of packing your life into boxes. Three more days of unpacking it, making a new place feel like home.

Seven days of bickering. Seven days of feeling like I'm just not enough. Seven days of getting too little sleep, in odd hours. Seven days of holding each other when things got just a bit too much. Seven days of making new hopes and dreams. Seven days of new beginnings.

Is it surprising that I've had little time to cook, photograph, style or write amongst it all?

Yet I miss it all so much.

In the coming weeks, I'll be updating this space a little bit less. Twice a week, likely on Mondays and Thursdays - back to my initial blogging schedule. I hope you guys will be OK with it.

Meanwhile, I'll be working on building a repository of posts to provide myself with a cushion, some breathing space. Meanwhile, I'll be editing the bazillion photos I took in Israel and Munich, BERLIN, Frankfurt (oh, be still my beating heart). Meanwhile, I'll be putting together my new life, block by block, piece by piece. Meanwhile, I hope you will contend with a bit more photos, a few less long-form posts, a little bit less recipes and more blueprints, suggestions, ideas.

Like these.

Hope you have a great, festive, calm, loving, fun, breathtaking, simple weekend. And happy Canada Day to those who've celebrated on Wednesday, or incredible 4th of July to those who will!

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If you make one of my recipes, don’t forget to tag it #immigrantstable @immigrantstable!

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In the weeks leading up to my trip to Argentina, I spent hours looking for recommendations on what's a fish-loving pescetarian to eat in the land of steak, asado and dulce de leche. I combed through Argentinian blogs, looking for the tried-and-true. I sat with Argentinian friends over steaming cups of yerba mate, writing down phrases in broken Spanish that I could not pronounce even five minutes after. I dreamed and took down notes and made lists.

And then, my trip to Argentina resulted in this sort of eating.

So to prevent you from finding yourself hopelessly lost in the kosher McDonalds, or not sure what to order in a typical steakhouse, here is the list of the top 10 vegetarian foods to eat in Argentina. I'm warning you - these babies are enough to make any avowed meat eater set aside the steak, at least for one meal.

Ravioles (verdura, de calabaza, de ricotta, hongos) 

Everyone I knew told me to eat the pasta in Argentina, but I'll admit that I was rather sceptical - I've eaten at some of the best restaurants in Italy, how different can Argentinian pasta be? Very, very different, as it turns out. Having also tried regular handmade fettucini and gnocchi, I have to say that the true pinnacle of perfection in Argentinian pasta is the ravioli. Silky, translucent and bursting with more filling you could possibly imagine being squeezed into this paper-thin envelope, Argentinian ravioli alone is worth the trip to Buenos Aires. Whether you go for verdura (vegetables),  de calabaza (squash), or hongos (mushroom), they'll all be exquisite.

Provoleta

The best vegetarian main to order in an Argentinian steakhouse is the provoleta. A whole round of ooey, gooey provolone cheese, grilled to perfection and placed right on your plate - what could be better?? Make sure to cut through all the richness with a salad... that you'll dress at the table with lots of vinegar, in true Argentinian fashion.

Tartas saladas

What sounds like 'salad cake' is actually the Argentinian name for a multitude of pies with savoury fillings. These include everything from cebolla y humita (onion and corn), to spinach and hard-boiled eggs, or calabaza (pumpkin) - my favourite. Each restaurant and home cook makes theirs a little differently, and I encourage you to try as many as possible!

Ice cream (Dulce de leche, vainilla, maracuya)

Whether you are a purist who likes plain vanilla ice cream, a tourist who wants to try dulce de leche EVERYTHING in Argentina, or an adventurous foodie who will combine maracuya (passion fruit) with sea salted caramel in their cone, you can't go wrong with helado in Argentina. Whether it's the cream, the milk from the local cows, or just some secret magic powder they sprinkle into the water, the dairy in Argentina is out of this world... and the ice cream is definitely the cherry on top.

Empanadas (Queso y cebolla, humita, quatro queso)

I have a terrible secret to tell you: I didn't try Argentinian empanadas in Argentina. We were on a group tour, there was little time, yada yada yada, we ended up eating at a kosher McDonalds at a food court. But everyone I know has said you simply must try at least one of the many vegetarian empanadas combinations. Unlike in North America, in Argentina they'll put almost anything into an empanada, and it'll all be delicious. Queso y cebolla (onion and cheese) or humita (corn) are rumoured to be especially good. I also like some vegan empanada fillings, like my mushroom and kale combo.

Dulce de leche flan

Turns out that flan is as ubiquitous to Argentina as ice cream! Everywhere we went, people offered us quivering globs of pudding, topped with a generous helping of dulce de leche... and once I overcame my initial textural aversion, I have to admit that I became quite smitten with this simple dessert. It may lack the pizzaz of alfajores or the devil-may-care scrumptiousness of ice cream, but flan is not to be passed up in Argentina.

If you're looking to try a simple version of flan, my Argentinian bread pudding is a good place to start.

Alfajores de chocolate

Ah, alfajores. I actually thought I didn't like them before I went to Argentina - what in the world was wrong with me?? Turns out there is nothing better in the world than a chocolate-covered alfajore cookie, alongside a cup of bitter yerba mate (which I feel no need to introduce as you'll see it everywhere in Argentina). Except maybe a gluten free alfajore alongside a good espresso...

Espresso with a thimble of soda water

The first thing I put in my mouth in Argentina was a short, bitter, perfectly made espresso, served alongside a thimble of bubbling soda water. It was pure perfection, the soda helping cut through the acidity of the coffee and making the whole experience as enjoyable afterwards as it is during the process. I was then told that in Argentina, if you see a thimble of soda served alongside your coffee, you know it's going to be good... and that rule of thumb did not disappoint. Look for small, packed coffee bars that serve only desserts and cafe, and you'll be satisfied every time.

Oh, and if you want some milk in your coffee, go for a cortado, or a cafe con leche if you want a really milky concoction.

Medialunas de Manteca

My breakfast every day in Argentina consisted of a medialuna and a strong cup of espresso with soda on the side, and I couldn't have been happier (though my waist definitely noticed the extra sweet). Medialunas de Manteca are tiny little Argentinian croissants, baked and brushed with a thin layer of sugar syrup, and they are so much more than the sum of their parts.

If you eat fish: Cornelitos fritos, calamari, rabas

If you are a pescetarian like me, there is so much fresh seafood in Argentina to try. My favourites were the cornelitos fritos (little fishies fried whole, and served with just lemon on the side), the red Argentinian calamari, simply grilled, and any local fish 'a la plancha' - off the grill. The really is a huge variety of seafood in Argentina, and a lot of the fish is even kosher, if you worry about that sort of thing.

Looking for more Argentinian recipes?

• Authentic Argentinian vegetarian empanadas, three ways
• Argentinian bread pudding with caramel sauce
• {VIDEO} Passover dairy-free and gluten-free alfajores

Looking for more Argentinian travel posts?

• The Young Jewish Travel Guide to Argentina {the Food}
• {TRAVEL} The Young Jewish Travel Guide to Argentina: The people
• The young Jewish travel guide to Argentina {Day One}

The post Top 10 vegetarian foods to eat in Argentina appeared first on At the Immigrant's Table.

First off, full disclosure: my trip to Argentina ended up being less about food, and a lot more about people. To illustrate, I didn't take out my big camera even once, and stuck to smartphone photography.

However, as this is a food blog, I think the Young Jewish Travel Guide to Argentina would not be complete without a sampling of everything I tasted. Especially as I think you'll get a kick out of reading how I searched for yeast-free/grain-free/dairy-free food in  the land of carne, asado and pasta (read: unsuccessfully).

To give you the best alongside the worst, here are the food places I tried in Argentina.

Buenos Aires

T-Bone

Av. Sta Fe 2979, C1425BGE, Buenos Aires

When I was told that our first meal in Buenos Aires will be in a place called T-Bone, I have to admit I wasn't exactly excited. Though I've heard that Provoleta (a huge chunk of grilled provolone cheese) was a thing in Argentina, I wasn't relishing the thought of eating an entire cheese block for lunch. However, upon entry to T-Bone, we were served a barrage of the famous Italian-Spanish fusion style dishes for which Argentina has become known. From potatoes in cheese sauce to delicate mushroom ravioli in walnut sauce, and the best ice cream of my life, T-Bone ended up not disappointing. The stomach pain that ensued was well worth it.

El Lazo

There isn't much I, as a vegetarian, can say about a kosher steakhouse. Those of us who ate meat (97 per cent of the group) said it was decent. I enjoyed a meal of deep-fried olives and grilled vegetables, which was surprisingly filling. It's important to note this was where I discovered that a) Argentinians do not season their salads, but serve you olive oil and vinegar to do the job yourself, and b) Argentinian fries are the gross, seemingly air-fried pieces you get in any typical Israeli fast food place... except unsalted. My heart broke when I discovered I would not be able to gorge myself on fries as I would in every other steakhouse.

Dashi

Fitz Roy 1613, Buenos Aires

Though most of you will wonder why I went to a sushi restaurant in Buenos Aires, I'll say that by day four of the trip, I wanted something clean, fresh, and unadulterated; sushi was it. Dashi was recommended to us as one of the best sushi places in Buenos Aires, and it did not disappoint. The fish smelled like the sea, the combinations were inventive, and the atmosphere, bolstered by delicious cocktails, couldn't have been better. We had an incredible raw sashimi salad with passion fruit sauce, vegetarian rolls with mango that blew my mind, and a caipiroska maracuya (passion fruit caipiroska - more on these in the next post!) that was to die for. The prices were higher by local standards, but at $40 for the meal, nothing most North Americans aren't used to shelling for good sushi.

Abasto shopping mall

Av. Corrientes 3247, 1193 CABA, Buenos Aires

Abasto shopping mall has the world's only kosher McDonald's outside of Israel, and that's about its only claim to fame. I have nothing more to say about this place, expect - just don't.

Mar del Plata

Manolo

Rivadavia 2371, Mar del Plata

Ah, Manolo.

By day two of the trip, following a six-hour bus ride and a (surprisingly nice) lunch eaten at a care home for the elderly, I was starved for some real food. Sadly, this wasn't where I was going to get it. Instead, Manolo was where I threw my first tantrum of the trip, as my first meal in the seafood hub of Argentina took me to a place with laminated menus, photographed placemats and cheeseburgers, pizza and cheap pasta on the first few pages. It felt wholly inauthentic, and I was tired of stomach aches. I also felt like we were being infantilized like stupid Americans, whose only desires in Argentina was to eat the familiar foods of back home.

In hindsight, I know now that Manolo actually IS one of the most popular restaurants in Mar del Plata, and that they're famous for their churros, deep fried dough sticks stuffed with deliciousness like dulce de leche (which I sadly didn't get to try). At Manolo I ate a grilled local fish filet (sadly, I can't tell you what type of fish it was as I ordered off the menu, asking for something local) that was fairly delicious. I also split the biggest seafood platter I've ever seen in my life, overflowing with succulent pieces of fried white wish, rabas (breaded and fried calamari), WHAT (little fishies that are friend whole), and, the highlight of the evening, grilled Argentinian squid pieces (they are not breaded, red, and incredibly delicious).

All in all, Manolo wasn't a complete bust, but it wouldn't be where I'd send newcomers to Mar del Plata.

La Guapa

A fancy steakhouse, La Guapa delivered on decor, atmosphere, cheap but excellent red wine, and vegetarian options. I had the zucchini sticks and gnocchi verdura (gnocchi with vegetables), and I was blown away by the pillowy texture of the little pasta bites, the veggies' perfect level of doneness, and the balance of flavours between the earthiness of the sauce and the saltiness of the Parmesan cheese (Argentinians don't salt anything with just salt, apparently). In truth, the food was so good I nearly forgot to photograph my pasta (blogger crimes).

Dessert was the only let-down of the meal - we tried thin crepes with dulce de leche and chocolate, as well as the more traditional flan with dolce de leche, and neither was stellar.

La Fonte D'Oro

Peatonal: San Martín esq. Córdoba, Mar del Plata

Though this coffee shop belongs to a local chain, the coffee and alfajores at La Fonte D'Oro did not disappoint. Served with the requisite soda and a debonair spirit, this was a place you'd be as comfortable lingering as just shooting back an espresso at the bar. One of the trip's highlights.

But in truth, the best thing I ate in Mar del Plata were the pickled whole anchovies you buy in jars at the port. Don't miss those.

To read more about my time in Argentina, see here and here. Next week, I will provide a round-up of dishes you should look for in Argentina if you actually want to eat well - don't miss it!

I was in Argentina for a week as part of the first-ever JDC Entwine mission for Russian-speaking Jewish young professionals. My trip, and this entire JDC program for Russian-Speaking Jews (RSJs) is made possible by the generosity of the Genesis Philanthropy Group.

All opinions expressed here are my own. 

The post The Young Jewish Travel Guide to Argentina {the Food} appeared first on At the Immigrant's Table.

Just when you think you might be alone in a foreign country, a friend comes along. These are the people that made my Jewish travel guide to Argentina.

I sit on a tiny chair in an endless row of seats at the Pittsburgh airport, tightly hugging a backpack to my chest. Sobs wrack through my body, and I can do no more than bury my face in the rough, unpleasant canvas, trying to stop myself from hyperventilating. There are people all around me, and yet I feel completely, utterly alone, perhaps for the first time in days.

Welcome to the low point of the Young Jewish Travel Guide to Argentina.

But I'm not alone. A girl holds my hand, stroking back wet strands of sweaty curls from my forehead. She whispers that it will be OK, that we'll make it work, that she'll give up her seat for me if need be. Another girl is speaking urgently into a phone a few metres away, stealing furtive glances at my direction and continuing to repeat, "but there's five of us, and they're telling us there are only four seats. What can be done?" Behind me, a boy is standing at the flight attendant's counter, pleading with her to make it work, to find us all room on an overbooked, overcrowded flight to New York, the last of the day. Another boy is on the phone yet again, talking to another travel agent.

And when, ten minutes later, the wheels of the plane finally depart off the tarmac, I am with them on the plane. I'm not alone, I repeat to myself as I close my eyes with exhaustion and relief.

***

But first, let's back up a little bit.

Nine hours earlier, I am at the Buenos Aires airport, in the arms of a girl from North Carolina. We are embracing tightly, aware that in a day, we will no longer see each other each morning, no longer hear each other's dry, sarcastic comments, no longer belt out Russian songs from bygone eras in random moments throughout the day. I look at her brown hair, clipped in a fashion so familiar from the old country, but that looks so chic around her heart-shaped face. I recognize something of myself. I savour.

We are all waiting to board our flight back home. Thirteen of the 15 people who came on this trip are here. Thirteen of the bravest, smartest, strongest young adults I have ever met are all around me, lounging on uncomfortable airport chairs, charging their phones, trying to get ready to say goodbye without feeling any pain.

After a week spent speaking Russian, hanging out on buses and rooftops and in synagogues and Jewish day schools, sharing the innermost parts of ourselves with people who just recently were strangers, we are all detoxing. Trying to get back to being Americans and Canadians, girlfriends and boyfriends, colleagues and supervisors, setting aside our Russian Jewishness for a bit.

It's no easy task - but at least we have 11 hours of flights, with two layovers, to do it.

The first leg of our trip goes smoothly. I fall asleep after another heartfelt conversation, another thirty minutes of intellectual discussion with a boy whose Russian accent has become as familiar as an old blanket. I wake up in Miami. We all rush through the ticket counters, run through the halls, board shuttles, switch them, realize we made a mistake and get back on the first one, run on the tarmac, get on the bus. A couple of hours later, we're in Pittsburgh. The end is near.

And then, our last flight is cancelled. Disoriented, dishevelled, we all file off the plane. Some get on their phones right away, arranging alternative flights that are quickly booked off. Others are walking around in a daze. I am still hoping things will work out, calling agent after agent, asking each one to examine yet even more complex flight routes, all in an effort to get me to Montreal before Monday morning.

Eventually, the last five of us are told there's room on a 7pm flight to La Guardia.

We laugh, we cry, we embrace. We hold each other for a long, long time. Longer than necessary. Longer than it should take to say goodbye to someone who was just recently a stranger.

And then, we go for drinks. For the next two hours, we let out everything: our anger and frustrations, our disappointments and hopes. We curse, more than we have all week. We make promises to meet again. We raise our glasses and salute each other, drink to the bright light we saw in each and every one of the 15 people who were part of this mission. We let ourselves be vulnerable, and strong, and feel loved.

We know it won't last forever, this fairytale. We know there's life on the other side, some of it better, some of it worse. We know there are other people. But for the next two hours, we just have each other, and that's more than enough.

Before we know it, it's time to board. A last hug, we walk down the airport aisles locked in an embrace tighter than handcuffs. But as we near the gate, our hands let go; the end is in sight.

But as in all good stories, nothing is as simple as it seems. As we reach the counter, ready to get our assigned seats, we are told that two of us will not fit on the plane. Mistakes were made, baggage is somewhere, and all seats are booked.

It is at this point that I completely break down.

I am officially done arguing, done pleading, done feeling the emotional roller coaster of the last week. I am done being strong and eloquent and stubborn. I retreat to my shell, holding onto the sense of loss, the sadness of goodbye, the despair of not knowing when I'm going to be home. If I can't board this flight, then so be it.

But they don't give up. You know how this story ends: my friends get me on that flight.

And when, twelve hours later, I finally get off the bus in Montreal and hug G, I remember a different set of arms: those of the four other Russian Jews who wouldn't give up on me.

And I know I am not alone.

To read more about my time in Argentina, see this. Please check back on Friday for more updates from my trip, and a detailed account of everything I ate, the good and the bad.

I was in Argentina for a week as part of the first-ever JDC Entwine mission for Russian-speaking Jewish young professionals. My trip, and this entire JDC program for Russian-Speaking Jews (RSJs) is made possible by the generosity of the Genesis Philanthropy Group.

All opinions expressed here are my own. 

The post {TRAVEL} The Young Jewish Travel Guide to Argentina: The people appeared first on At the Immigrant's Table.

Stepping off the bus onto the main street of La Boca was like getting punched in the face by a storm of colours. The shouts of children playing soccer in an abandoned field to my right intermingled with the soft clapping and tapping of the tango dancers to my left. The two movements were side-stepping each other in a complicated embrace of the modern and the traditional, the low-brow and the exquisite, the market and the palace.

At that moment, I fell in love with Buenos Aires. Hard. And so began this Jewish travel guide to Argentina.

Our day in Buenos Aires began at 12pm at our hotel in Palermo Soho, the BA Sohotel. We were told that young professionals usually end up in nicer hotels on their trips, but after spending most of my travel in Airbnb apartments, I was honestly unprepared for the classy, understated modernism of our suite at the BA Sohotel. In a large white room outfitted with wooden furniture in light, neutral hues, the only splashes of colour come from the traditional woven blankets and the red tile in the bathroom - and the result couldn't be more striking. I was genuinely impressed.

From the suite to the first cup of coffee at the hotel cafe, I could see I was going to like Buenos Aires. But it wasn't until we got off the bus at the Recoleta Cemetery that I realized just how right for me this city was.

When our tour guide told us that our first stop in the city was going to be a cemetery, I have to admit I was a bit surprised. As a Jew, I find the concept of ostentatious burials and extravagant monuments bizarre at best, and undignified at worst.

Jewish funerals are usually simple but achingly beautiful, full of heartfelt keening and the raw physicality of each person lending their hand to personally "bury the dead" by throwing a stone on the dead loved one's body, a body that is naked except the holy talit in which it is are wrapped. Suffice to say, the concept of a beautiful cemetery seemed anachronistic to me.

All that changed when I stepped onto the cobblestoned path of Recoleta. Surrounded by phantasmagorical structures that look like a cross between an Edgar Ellen Poe nightmare and a modernist reverie, I walked straight into a memorial procession for one of the country's heroes, the wife of Argentina's founder (whose name, sadly, eludes me now). As I gazed around me at mausoleums so elaborate that they cost more to upkeep than my annual wage, listening to the ear-splitting sound of the trumpet, I started to gain a deeper appreciation for the Christian honouring of life after death.

Not saying I want a mausoleum as my burial ground... But perhaps I could do with a plaque.

From Recoleta cemetery, we continued on our way to the neighbourhood of La Boca, whose raw beauty I already described in the first paragraph. There are honestly few words that can transmit the onslaught of colourful houses done-out in corroded metal, painted wood, and intricately ornate signs. The smells of the river and sewage, intermingled with the sizzle of Asado from nearby restaurants. The sounds of street hawkers and paddlers, advertising their wares to all those who would listen. While our tour guides were busy warning us not to go to La Boca at night, all I could was dream about living in an area so alive, so vibrant, so full of contradictions.

And then I realized I live in Montreal, and my heart rejoiced.

But wait, I have yet to tell you about food! So far, I have experienced only one meal in Argentina - a dairy-style lunch at T-Bone restaurant. Some of you may wonder, why start my visit in Argentina, the land of steak and red wine, with a dairy meal? But Argentina is actually renowned also for the quality of its Italian food. But as this meal demonstrated, a steakhouse may not be the best place to try it.

From the starter, a plateful of potato wedges topped with parsley and garlic and served with Romesco sauce, I knew the theme of the meal would be richness. And, true to form, everything came loaded with creamy, cheesy sauces, including the delicate mushroom-stuffed ravioli that could have done with a lighter hand. Sadly, I have to admit that in both those dishes, the cheese was the worst part, a distraction from the main focus of the dish and from the clean, fresh ingredients we were eating. But the overall impression was of good food, albeit on the heavy side.

Then came the dessert: simple ice cream with fresh blueberries, and I forgave T-Bone all of its cheesy transgressions. The clean notes of this understated dish hit me right at home, and it reminded me more than anything of the vanilla ice cream of my Russian childhood, plombir. I licked my bowl clean, lactose-intolerance be damned (and suffered the resulting stomach ache all afternoon).

At the end of the day, it wasn't the clean streets of Palermo Soho, where we are staying, that made me love Buenos Aires. It wasn't the taste of T-Bone's delicate ravioli, stuffed with mushrooms and greens and smothered with unnecessary cream. It wasn't the sounds of the tango on the streets of La Boca.

It was the life that I saw pouring out of everyone I met - the stoic Europeans on the streets, the dirty ruffians running around La Boca, the metalsmith whose jewelry I bought on a dusty alley in the Recoleta neighbourhood.

It was the spirit of Buenos Aires, and I just couldn't wait to taste more of it.

I am in Argentina as part of the first-ever JDC Entwine mission for Russian-speaking Jewish young professionals. My trip, and this entire JDC program for Russian-Speaking Jews (RSJs) is made possible by the generosity of the Genesis Philanthropy Group.

All opinions expressed here are my own.

The post The young Jewish travel guide to Argentina {Day One} appeared first on At the Immigrant's Table.

I guess you could say I'm shy.

Stepping through the entryway of the first Meet, Eat, Collaborate! in Montreal wasn't so different. My basic instinct was immediately to turn around, leave, get some air, hug a tree or something. But then I smelled the dahl cooking in the corner, at the table of Special du Jour. I heard the clink of ice and the fizzle of locally made Cola 1642 as it got poured into glasses alongside a generous splash of rum. I saw the mounds of gluten-free, vegan baked goods in an hidden corner of the room (sadly, I seem to have misplaced the card of whoever made them! ARGH!). And as my mouth began to water and my camera to involuntarily snap photos of all the action, I realized I was no longer afraid.

In fact, I couldn't wait to dive into all of the deliciousness.

There was just something about being in the same room with like-minded people, who were just as excited about the latest berry to make nectar from (the argouille), or the different ways to pickle kohlrabi (I have a recipe in the works, but it's so easy I wasn't sure if I should share it...). Looking at all of the different entrepreneurs and their delicious local food businesses, all so immensely proud of what they do, I was filled with a sense of hope for the future of North American food production. And as I found myself talking to strangers about the level of acidity in strawberry salsa (usually not enough) or pondering about whether it's OK to feed organic, wholesome doggie treats to husbands (it's not), I knew that Mangeons Montreal/Let's Eat Montreal, their partners for the event Rhizome MTL (headed by Laura Howard, formerly of Provender) and other communal dining entrepreneurs were onto something.

Food brings people together. It's a simple premise that people have internalized for centuries, and to which they clung ferociously through poverty, plagues, wars and misfortune, in royal courts and in paupers' houses.

And now, it looks like it's the basis of the hottest social trend this year, that of communal dining. And from my year living in Montreal, it's clear that this is the perfect place to experience the renaissance of sharing food with strangers.

With Jewishly themed dinners by my friends at The Wandering Chew, unique food explorations by 'Round Table Tours, free cooking workshops with grandmothers and grandfathers through Santropol Roulant and now, this new series of food-themed meet-ups and tastings from Mangeons Montreal/Let's Eat Montreal, it seems like you could eat well with like-minded people nearly every day of the year in Montreal.

And apparently, I'm not the only one who thinks that (surprise surprise). I recently discovered Eventbrite's Food & Drink project, which mapped out the top food and drink trends across the U.S., and couldn't wait to see what communal dining events are taking place in my neck of the woods. Wherever you may live in North America, Eventbrite is a great platform that assists you in finding events in your areas. They also have free event management tools to get the word out about your event, sell tickets, and track your event progress. I've used them before for events that I've put on through the Jewish Food Project, and was impressed with the easy interface and flexibility.

And what's next for Mangeons Montreal/Let's Eat Montreal? A focused list of local food & wine-themed communal dining and other social events that just may give the big guys a run for their money. I look forward to seeing what's next in store for this new intiative!

This summer, I urge you to go check out a communal dining event in your area. If like me, you suffer from heart palpitations each time you are near grilled cheese AND strangers, then why not combine the two together and see if it helps? Or if you thrive on the excitement of meeting new people, then all the more reason to take in one of the many exciting foodie events in your area.

If you're in Montreal, come say hi at a Wandering Chew event, or the next Mangeons Montreal/Let's Eat Montreal communal dining, chatting and networking gathering. For other locations in North America, check out Eventbrite's nifty search engine.

P.S. - In the interest of full disclosure, I was invited to the Meet, Eat, Collaborate! event as a blogger. However, as the night really was a lot of fun, I wouldn't have hesitated to have gone by my own initiative - and will continue to do so in the future. All opinions expressed here are my own.

The post Sharing food with strangers, or the renaissance of communal dining appeared first on At the Immigrant's Table.

Nestled amidst the mountains of Colorado is the rustic Devil’s Thumb Ranch. It is a small, picturesque resort made up of log-cabin-like buildings, an outdoors swimming pool and endless rolling hills, blue lakes that reflect the sky, and as much mountain air as you can stomach. Cowboy paraphemelia like spurs and Stenson hats is scattered around the premises like the cast-aways of a bored Westerner who moved on to California in search of shinier gold. And early this month, for a glorious 48 hours, it served as a host to myself and 60 other young-at-heart, starry-eyed Jewish chefs, food writers and other food professionals who took part in the Harvest Gathering.

Friends, I must apologize for the two-weeks-long absence. I have spent the last 14 days travelling, going between Denver, Colorado, to New York, Poland and now, Israel. I will stay here for the next two weeks, working and resting and telling my mother I love her as often as I can. I have a lot of recipes prepared for the next few weeks, so I hope to not disappear again! Or at least, go as short a while as I can between postings.

But today, I’d like to tell you about an incredible food learning experience I took part in: The Harvest Gathering. Put on by The Charles and Lynn Schusterman Family Foundation in partnership with Hazon, this retreat enabled Jewish professionals who work with food to come together, explore the shared grounds of their passion, and push the boundaries of what we all consider as Jewish food.

The array of talent present here was mesmerizing. From chefs like Lior Hillel (Bacaro LA, Nature's Brew and Bacari PDA in LA), Daniel Asher (Root Down, Linger in Denver, Colorado), and Josh Pollack (Rosenberg's Bagels), to writers like Alix Wall (The Forward, The Organic Epicure), and bloggers like Amy Kritzer of What Jew Wanna Eat and Lilly Shor of Three Silver Spoons, the opportunities for meeting incredible, inspiring people were unlimited.

One moment, you found yourself debating the merits of gluten-free crusts; the next, you were discussing methods of cooking bull testicles. Five minutes later, there was fly-fishing. From kosher butchery to anarchism in food businesses and cooking with cannabis, the workshops we covered were as diverse as the participants - and opened my horizons to new ways of approaching food in intentional, inherently Jewish ways.

For you see, beyond the networking aspect, there was a single unified thread going throughout the Harvest Gathering. This was the arch that brought all the disparate parts of the puzzle together, the schmear that bound bagel and lox into one incomparable creation. The Harvest Gathering had one single theme: that Jewish found is food that is grown, cooked, sourced and eaten intentionally.

Whether we spoke of how we ran our businesses, where we bought our vegetables, how we butchered our meat (or if we chose to eat it at all), or how we celebrated Sukkot, Pesach or R0sh Hashanah, we all agreed - it requires thought, care and intentionality.

Good food, Jewish or not, doesn't just come from thin air; it requires conceptualization, excellent ingredients, and meticulous execution. And so do our businesses, relationships, and Jewish lives.

At the Harvest Gathering, we made new friends and business connections. But even more importantly, we reminded ourselves of what it meant to do things with care and attention; what it meant to practice what you believe in, consistently, despite the effort it required. What it meant to live in an inherently Jewish way, regardless of your religious beliefs.

So at the end of the day, I'd like to thank the Harvest Gathering for giving me the chance to get back to the basics. To breathe. To stretch. To reflect. To ask for advice. To explore discomfort. To taste. To criticize. To discover. To harvest and to gather.

To see more photos of the food we ate at The Harvest Gathering, check out my social media galleries on Facebook and Instagram.

I took part in the Harvest Gathering thanks to the generosity of the Charles and Lynn Schusterman Family Foundation. However, I received no financial compensation for this piece; all opinions expressed here are my own.

The post The Harvest Gathering appeared first on At the Immigrant's Table.

It is a cold Montreal evening in February. You are bundled up in layers, and your breath visibly fogs up around you. But when you arrive at Tu B'Shevat Under the Trees, all that fades away. Your eyes take in the yard around you: it's a magical wonderland, with a long table overladen with candles, fir branches and dried fruit. People are milling about, heated by the warmth of portable space heaters and blankets. Fairy lights twinkle overhead, and soft music wafts through the background. You smell sage and rosemary and thyme, and you know: this is going to be a good night.

Photo by Marianne Helm

Sunday, February 7, I am going to be hosting my first large-scale dinner in Montreal. It will be a family-style, pescetarian five-course meal with a signature cocktail... all served outdoors, under the light of a bright moon, dozens of bright fairy lights, and the gentle flow of candles. There will space heaters and blankets, warm compote and the company of your neighbours to keep you warm, and I promise - no one is going to be left hungry that night.

Some of you may be thinking I'm crazy, planning an event outdoors in early February. But I see it all so perfectly: an unforgettable night under the stars, a chance to recapture the magic of the season in this Jewish celebration of nature with good food, good music and a showcase of local Jewish makers. This will be a celebration of bounty: of nature, good food, and of local talent, and outdoors is exactly the right place to hold it.

And the best part is, I'm not alone in this endeavour. For this special Tu B'Shevat under the stars, I am partnering with Allison Sklar, the classically trained baker and pastry chef behind The Bacon Eating Jewish Vegetarian Blog & Recipes and Savoury Sweets Bakery. A seasonal craft cocktail will be developed by two other Montreal foodie superstars, The Wandering Chew. The work of two local artisans will also be showcased at the event: paint and clay, a perfect union of natural elements.

The Tu B'Shevat Under the Stars menu will showcase the 7 Minim, and include:

And in true At the Immigrant's Table form, we will respect dietary restrictions (gluten-free, vegan). If you suffer from any food intolerances, please let me know in advance of your needs, and we will do our best to accommodate them.

This event was made possible by a #MakeItHappen Micro Grant from the Charles and Lynn Schusterman Family Foundation. 

The post {EVENTS} Come eat with me at Tu B'Shevat Under the Trees appeared first on At the Immigrant's Table.

Growing up in Israel, Tu B'Shevat was a time to go outside and plant saplings, bask in the first rays of the hesitant spring sun, and marvel at the awakening of nature. But in Montreal, Tu B'Shevat was often a throwaway holiday, a time when no one dared to peek outside for fear of freezing. At most, people would eat some dried fruit, bake some muffins and call it a day.

I wanted to use this year as an opportunity to celebrate Tu B'Shevat as it was meant to be celebrated, under the trees, and to help Montrealers rejoice in this pernicious season and in the bounty of our city.

So I invited you and many of my friends to meet me outside on a cold February night. I rented space heaters, hung up some fairy lights, and had blankets custom made for the occasion. But mainly, I just tested a lot of recipes, and hoped and prayed that the weather will take it easy on us that night (you can see the dinner's menu here).

And somehow, due to a lot of hard work and a great deal of magic and fairy dust, it all came together.

My favourite moment was when our host, Rabbi Avi Finegold had just finished his introduction, weaving together the themes of sustainability, Judaism and food security, and everyone toasted the first glass of the Tu B'Shevat seder. The twinkling of the fairy lights above and the candles strewn across the tables was caught in the wine glasses, the tinkling of the crystals and the laughter of our guests weaved together to create the perfect background melody, and altogether, the moment encapsulated in it everything I sought to capture with this evening: love, joy, and pride at the bounty of nature, local food, and local talent. At that moment, I knew my event was a success.

When I looked around and saw the smiling faces, the sighs of happiness at a bite of food, the hugs and handshakes exchanged by people who didn't know each other only hours before, I knew that there was some logic in the madness that brought everyone out together on that cold night.

But don't get me wrong - it wasn't all fun and games getting to that point. Undoubtedly the biggest challenge to the success of my event was the weather. As the day of Tu B'Shevat Under the Trees crept nearer and the temperatures continued to drop, I became increasingly worried that the blankets and heaters I had ordered would not suffice.

Then, three days before the event, the heater rental company told me they don’t think the heaters will be enough and I *must* rent a tent. I called every rental company in town, all along doubting the validity of this assertion and the need for a tent. When every quote came way over budget, I called the heater company back and insisted we needed to make it work as planned.

When the heaters were delivered on the day of the event, the owner of the rental company took one look around the yard and agreed with me: everything would be fine. He gave us a free extra heater, and later on told me how impressed he was with the professionalism and the overall look of the event! So it just goes to show that if you believe something is possible, even if everyone else is doubting you... You just might be right.

Tu B'Shevat Under the Trees was truly an unforgettable experience that was as much fun setting up as it was to take part in. I look forward to many more similar endeavours... Though perhaps under warmer circumstances.

Want to join me at the next event? Follow me on Facebook to find out about things as they happen! To see more photos from this magical event, check out our photo album. 

*This event was made possible by a #MakeItHappen Micro Grant from the Charles and Lynn Schusterman Family Foundation.

The post {EVENTS} Tu B'Shevat Under the Trees brings warmth on a cold Montreal winter night appeared first on At the Immigrant's Table.

And now, I can't wait to do it again. Will you join me for the next one?

Kvartirnik is a traditional Russian apartment party. A play on the word kvartira, or apartment, it's a celebration of good food, friendships and music, where everyone is welcome and the tea flows like vodka. The food varies, but there is always a lot; the music is live, and the guitar is usually passed around in a circle at least at one point in the evening. But most importantly, the atmosphere is warm and inviting, and everyone feels like a member of the family.

I have been taking part in kvartirniks ever since I can remember. At first, it was with my father's friends, bearded men with a chip on their shoulders and a talent for humoristic poetry. They sang original songs and borrowed tunes, drank and smoked a bit too much and occasionally made inappropriate passes at me.

Then, the kvartirniks I attended were organized by my friends. Teenagers with the early signs of a mustache, they sang earnest songs and rebelled against any institution that would have them, drank and smoked a bit too much and often made inappropriate passes at me.

And then I moved away. For years, I heard no awkward awkwards strummed on guitars, heard no raspy voices pick through the repertoire of Russian musical giants like Kino and Mashina Vremeni and Vladimir Visotsky. No one made inappropriate passes at me, and I forgot what a curtain of cigarette smoke tastes like on your tongue.

Life dulled just a little bit.

And then on a chilly night this fall, I walked from a kosher restaurant in the Upper West Side to a friend's apartment. Guitars were dragged out of closets, and voices cleared. There was awkward shuffling and earnest singing, hot tea with lemon slices and dancing in slippers. Young adults with some chips on our shoulders and little rebellion left in our souls, we sang original songs and borrowed tunes, drank just a bit and smoked none at all, and occasionally, made inappropriate passes at each other.

There was magic in the air, the kind that can only be weaved from Russian camaraderie, good music and excellent food. And I remembered why life is so much better with kvartirniks.

My first kvartirnik was a part of Restaurant Day Montreal, a quarterly celebration whereby everyone can open their doors to strangers and run a restaurant for a day. I had so much that I am now planning on throwing something like this monthly; so if you're in the Montreal area, join me for my next kvartirnik.

To find out about my next event, follow me on Facebook and Instagram! 

The post {EVENTS} A Montreal kvartirnik, or the time I turned my apartment into a Russian blintzes restaurant appeared first on At the Immigrant's Table.

The RestoMontreal app, the city's newest restaurant finding, reviewing and social sharing mobile app, launched in late May with an impressive line-up of partner restaurants (note that the website RestoMontreal has is actually quite the veteran, working to fill Montrealers' stomachs for over 11 years!). From vegan macaroons to Southern-style BBQ, wood-fire oven-cooked Italian pizza or fragrant Indian samosas, at any given moment RestoMontreal enables you to find pretty much anything you crave. Accompanied by glossy photos and a simple and easily navigable design, this baby really delivers everything you need from a restaurant finding app.

I first learned about the RestoMontreal app at their launch event, La Fête des Restos. Held in the popular Terrasses Bonsecours on a clear, blistering hot summer day, Fête des Restos brought together the usual suspects: some of the city's top restaurants, chilled white wine and chic Montrealers. Add to that a few unique touches -  an artfully arranged custom candy bar, vegan macaroons dispersed on silver trays, and fresh roses for everyone - and you've got the recipe for a great summer launch party.

Yet Fête des Restos did not stop there. Beyond the wow factor, this was one foodie event aiming to  do good through food. Between May 20th and May 27th 2016, for every download of the new iPhone or Android app, RestoMontreal donated $2 to the Food Banks of Quebec. With each download providing six (!) meals to those who need them, this was an easy way to give back to the community while discovering great new eats in Montreal. 

I'm going to leave you with some snaps from the evening, highlighting the great food and beautiful people who make Montreal such an incredible foodie city. Hope you have a bright, tasty and sun-filled weekend ahead!

In the interest of full disclosure, I was invited to Fête des Restos as a blogger. However, I received no monetary or product compensation for writing this piece, and as always, all opinions expressed here are my own. It's my pleasure taking part in making the foodie community of this great city a bit more connected!

The post The RestoMontreal app, La Fête des Restos, and doing good through your food appeared first on At the Immigrant's Table.

I was shvitzing from the heat. It was the Montreal version of chamsin, an Israeli sand wind that sweeps everything in its path. Here’s some advice: avoid outdoor cardio workouts during a heat wave. Especially biking uphill. One thing that you really shouldn’t do is rent a bike for the day - and that’s the one thing I did. I rode a Bixi (part of the Montreal public bicycle sharing system) over the mountain and parked it slightly too far uphill. I ended up half-jogging down the street to make it on time for the event. Sweaty, smelly and thirsty, I finally arrived at Fletcher’s Beyond the Bagel tour on Standard Jewish Time (which is somewhere between 5 and 30 minutes late… I won’t specify which one).

Walking into Fletcher’s cafe, all I wanted was a drink. Aviv, the resident bartender, heard my prayers. Mixing seltzer with unsweetened homemade blackberry-rosemary nectar, she turned the heat wave into a summer breeze.

Then came the food. I was so ready for it. The gefilte fish sandwich was the perfect balance between light and filling. It was so delicious that one wasn’t enough. The gefilte fish was nested on top of a piece of lettuce over sliced challah. The challah was spread with a subtle layer of horseradish and mayo. The whole was sprinkled with shredded carrots and parsley, giving it a pleasant crunch. The gefilte sandwich was a pleasant mix of soft, chewy, crispy and crunchy, gently salted... and rich in tradition.

Mini-sized lox and cream cheese bagels were the next item on the menu. Fluffy and light cream cheese, thin and tender gravlax, the bagel was sure to satisfy any Montrealer craving an authentic lox and cream cheese experience. Your bubbe would have been jealous.

“Why Fletcher’s?” the question seemed to float in the air from the start of the evening, and was finally asked by one of the curious participants. The answer was simple. Fletcher’s cafe took its name from Mr Fletcher, a farmer who would bring his sheep to graze at the foothills of Mount Royal (a practice which to this day is done in some countries, like Switzerland). At some point, Fletcher’s Field was renamed as Jeanne-Mance park, which is how it is known today (also as the “Tam-Tams/ let’s smoke some weed and dance park” or the “huge angel statue park” or … I’m getting sidetracked!)

After snacking, we were led onto St. Laurent boulevard to begin the Beyond the Bagel tour. We did a quick pit-stop outside of Moishe’s steakhouse. Moishe, legend has it, acquired the restaurant by winning a poker game. His wife must have been thrilled. Here’s my imagination having a little fun:

• Moishe, it's 30 minutes past midnight! Were you out gambling again?
• Raizel, dear, please don't be mad… I have some good news! I won a whole restaurant! We are going to be rich!
• Oh, that's just wonderful, Moishe! What about your shmata business? And raising our 6 children? And the two hens Leslie and Barbara adopted? And your poor sick mother? And you want a restaurant! Oy, when poor mama hears this, she'll have a heart attack!

We were surprised to stop in front of what looked like an empty gap between two stores. Turns out that it wasn’t just an empty gap. The alleway running into this “empty gap” used to be a bagel shop. In fact, this was the location where the famous Montreal bagel was born.

Turning left on Roy, the Beyond the Bagel tour stopped near Santropol Roulant as they were taking down their tents and packing up from their Thursday market. The air was still laden with moisture from the fruits and vegetables, and a mild smell of dirt wafted through the street. It was hard to imagine that a half century ago that street was filled with putrid smells of flesh and blood. Roy was known for its slaughterhouses. Sometimes change is good...

Stopping at what is now a music store, our attention was directed to the floor tiles, which revealed the existence of yet another Jewish bakery - the St. Lawrence Bakery, which closed its doors in 2002. The floor tiles are the only thing remaining from this legendary spot.

We returned to Fletcher’s, where we seated ourselves next to new faces. We definitely earned the meal that was about to come, a flight of tastes through Fletcher's menu selection. Tealights in jars illuminated each table, setting a cozy and relaxed ambience. We were served wine. Whispers grew into conversations.

Then, the main course was served. It consisted of an eggplant & feta boreka, served alongside a hard-boiled egg, olives, tomatoes and a kale salad. I grew up eating bourekas and yet, in my entire quarter century life, I have never tasted an eggplant boreka. It was eggcellent. (Sorry, I just had to.) The phyllo dough melted in my mouth and the eggplants were smooth and juicy. Miam!

For dessert, we enjoyed Massafan cookies (almond flour, cardamom and rose water) served with vanilla ice cream on a plate decorated with rose petals. The taste was at once exotic and familiar. It brought you to a distant land and pulled you close. It sang to your heart and spoke to your imagination. Cardamom always brings back memories of that night in the desert, under a bedouin tent, when I just couldn’t refuse that 9th glass of sweet cardamom tea…

The evening drew to an end as we finished our plates. We thanked our chef, Kat Romanow, and the entire team who worked tirelessly to make the event such a beautiful, time-transcending, tradition-blending success.

If you ever find yourself walking on the St Laurent boulevard, try to remember Mr Fletcher’s and his sheep - and swing by Fletcher’s cafe. Or better yet, sign up for a delicious overview of Montreal with the Beyond the Bagel tour.

The post {TRAVEL} Fletcher's Beyond the Bagel tour appeared first on At the Immigrant's Table.

This time last year, F and I took a trip to Northern Europe. What started as a mission to spend Christmas in Northern Germany became a week-long jaunt through Germany, Denmark and Sweden. The butterflies of new love aside, it truly was one of the most magical trips I've ever taken, and I am excited to finally tell you all about it!

Our trip began in Berlin, or more accurately, the Berlin Schonefeld (SXF) airport. I had taken an overnight Wow Air flight and one sleeping pill too many, which resulted in a half-dazed walk through the Keflavik (KEF) airport... where I managed to misplace my passport and wallet while eating a vegan yogurt and talking to F on the phone (he had already been in Germany for a week for work at that point). Thank God for Icelandic airport security! Icelandic layovers aside, I was only too pleased to meet F and our rental car at the Berlin Schonefeld airport - not to be confused with the Berlin Tegel airport, as we discovered on the morning of our return flight (we ended up having to leave from two different airports. Sigh, travel confusion).

Brandenburg an der Havel

From Berlin, we drove to Brandenburg (also known as Brandenburg an der Havel) - the first destination in our Christmas in Northern Germany trip. The magic of the trip started when we parked our car immediately next to the city's old Jewish cemetery, which has been heavily bombed and then transformed into a wartime memorial for the city's Jewish population. Ending up there by complete mistake, I couldn't help but feel that this trip was going to be special.

This little German town was neat, compact and quite picturesque. We enjoyed a two-hour stroll along the city centre, and the Havel river that runs through its heart. The most prominent landmarks in Brandenburg were the 14th century St. Catherine's Church, and the beautiful Gothic cathedral whose roots go as far back as 1165. We enjoyed exploring the latter, and getting lost in the little streets around the former.

Brandenburg favourite stops: St. Catherine's Church, Brandenburg Cathedral.

Brandenburg favourite eats: We made a stop for coffee and German pastries in the first open cafe we saw, but we didn't get its name. Honestly, you can't go wrong with German pastries.

Hanover

From Brandenburg an der Havel, we continued making our way northwest, arriving at nightfall at Hanover. I admit that we had low expectations from this mid-sized German town; we knew it lacked the entertainment of Hamburg, the charm of Bremen, and the history of Potsdam. But we booked ourselves an Airbnb with an outdoor garden run by a young German couple, and bundled up for our first night in Germany.

Well, let me tell you - we couldn't have been more wrong about Hanover. Our Airbnb was small and well-equipped, and our host Lena was lovely. We opened our trip with a walk to a well-reviewed Mexican restaurant close to our neighbourhood, Fischers (which was decent, but not the best Mexican I've ever had). The next morning, we got up early and walked Hanover by foot, following the Hanover Red Thread Path to landmarks like the new City Hall and the majestic Herrenhäuser Gärten. We also had our first glass of Glühwein (or red mulled wine for the rest of us folks) in the just-opening Hanover Christmas market. And if you haven't heard about German Christmas markets, you've been missing out on the best part of life (or at least the best part of Christmas in Germany). But don't worry, because this post is all about them.

A few words about my favourite ritual at every international trip: a stop at a large supermarket to stock up. We do this on the first day of every trip, getting the necessities for breakfast and lunch - bread and GF bread, local cheeses and spreads, yogurts and soy milk, and alcohol - and we always bring a packed lunch with us. That way, even if our breakfast isn't provided, we avoid spending money on two main meals, thus allowing us to splurge on dinners. And more than that, we also get to discover new products and taste new local delicacies! We also make another stop at a local supermarket on the last day of our trip, stocking up on edible souvenirs and our favourite products to take home.  I strongly recommend making these stops a part of your travel routine.

Hanover favourite stops: City Hall, Herrenhäuser Gärten, Christmas Market in the Old Town.

Hanover favourite eats: Gluhwein at the Christmas Market (it wouldn't be Christmas in Germany without it!), and Harvest Moon coconut yogurt in mango and passionfruit.

Bremen

After finishing our afternoon in Hanover, we began our drive towards what was the most anticipated part of our trip: Bremen. When we first came across Bremen when planning our route through Northern Germany, I immediately thought of one thing: Bremenskie Muzykanty. As a Soviet child, I grew up listening to the exploits of the Bremen Musicians, put into cartoon form, song, and books. Excited, the mere mention of the name 'Bremen' in a guidebook made me break into song, fully expecting it to be cataloged as 'another weird thing Ksenia does'. Yet imagine my surprise when I discovered my Colombian-born boyfriend also knew of the Musicians; having studied German in university, he came across their tales and remembered some. So as you can guess, Bremen immediately became a Must-See stop on our Christmas in Northern Germany tour.

The other reasons we were excited about Bremen were simple. As an important maritime port, Bremen had an illustrious history and some immaculately preserved medieval houses. When looking for a place to stay, we sought something more historical than the streets of Hamburg or Hanover would allow... and we found our heart's desire in this little Airbnb in the Schnoor. This cozy, red little house, built in the 16th century, was a perfect slice of the past. The caretaker, Brigit, was kind and reserved. Our room on the top floor was cozy and dreamlike, featuring a little ladder and a window overlooking the cobblestone streets of Bremen's most legendary quarter. All in all, it was one of the best places from which to explore the mysteries of this fairytale city, and one of the best accommodations I've had on any trip, ever.

Our first night at Bremen included a wander through the Schnoor's streets, which had charming little stores and art galleries and tucked-away gluhwein carts. We had dinner at the famous Bremer Ratskeller, a 600-year old wine cellar that used to belong to the city's Townhall and is now a stand-alone restaurant. Unsurprisingly, it had an impressive wine list; curiously, it also had an extensive list of little house-made liqueurs that could burn through your esophagus (naturally, we tried one). The food was also delicious, if you even care about such things after all the wine, liqueurs and historic ambiance. After dinner, we wandered around the Aldstadt and took about a million photos with the famous statue of the Bremen musicians. Because fangirl. 

The next morning held our most awaited part of Christmas in Northern Germany: the Bremen Christmas Market. This was its opening day, and though it looked decidedly less magical during the day than it does at night, we had an unforgettable time walking through its maze of shops. But the best was yet to come, for we were to have the best meal of our trip in the market. We were drawn to this small stall by a haze of smoke and the most appetizing smell. We came upon a scene that could have been lifted straight from the log driver's waltz: a group of burly, plaid-dressed men, roasting whole salmons arranged in a lean-to triangle shape over an open flame. Every few seconds, a drop of jus would come dripping down the salmon and onto the coals, making a lovely hissing sound that made our mouths water. We immediately cued in line to wait for this manna from the gods, and were not disappointed to receive a generous chunk of salmon, served atop steaming potatoes and covered in a creamy mayonnaise sauce with herbs. This decidedly Nordic meal was perfect for the cold, gloomy day Bremen was having, and it was made all the more magical by our Christmas-like surroundings. I can't wait to recreate this at home one of these cold days (that is, if F braves the cold to turn on the coal barbecue for me)!

Bremen favourite stops: Aldstadt, The Schnoor, Bremen Town Hall,
 Bremen Christmas Market (and the musicians' statue!).

Bremen favourite eats: Bremer Ratkseller, and the Nordic salmon cooked over an open fire at the Christmas market.

Hamburg

After a magical morning in Bremen, we made our way northeast, to Hamburg. Now, all the guidebooks promised us that Hamburg would be the highlight of northern Germany, a bustling city with endless options for nightlife, great food and entertainment. We therefore set aside two nights - the longest portion of our trip to be spent in one place - for exploring Hamburg. Instead, we found a fairly dirty (by German standards), crowded city whose main (dubious) claim to fame was the Reeperbahn, its red-light district. Suffice to say, I was underwhelmed.

I suppose our time in Hamburg wasn't aided by the Airbnb we rented. Small, musty and feeling decidedly unlike someone's actual home but rather like an unclean hostel (there were five other people staying there, none of whom were the "host"), this place was the lowpoint of our trip. I felt uncomfortable and couldn't wait to leave... And the location of the Airbnb left much to be desired.

Our time in Hamburg was mainly spent on the bikes we received as part of our Airbnb rental (it was its only asset, truly). As a very recent and inexperienced bike rider - F taught me to bike a mere four months ago - I was terrified to explore an unfamiliar city on two wheels. I was pleasantly surprised and impressed by Hamburg's bike infrastructure, and had a great time driving from one corner to the other. The fun slightly wore off when we got caught in heavy rain and had to cross four lanes of traffic at night, but I guess it's all part of the experience.

The highlights of our time in Hamburg were mostly around our time with F's university friend, who met us on our first night. With him, we:

• rode the water taxi along the river Elbe (part of the regular transport system and accessible with a regular metro ticket);
• sailed along the Hamburg harbor and checked out the beautiful Opera house (where we went back during the day);
• walked through the area of the city's still-functioning warehouse district (the largest in the world), which at night look like an eerie nod to Interview with a Vampire (we also went back here during the day);
• sipped beers (them) and white wine (me) and a traditional beer hall meal (hot and meaty for them, cold and fishy for me) at one of Hamburg's most well-known breweries; and
• of course, visited the Hamburg Christmas market.

During the day and on our bikes, we also explored Hamburg's alternative underbelly, finding shelter from the rain while enjoying delicious sweets at Herr Max. As tourists are wont to do, we also checked out the red-lights district, where yours truly felt greatly uncomfortable and couldn't wait to leave (what can I do, I'm a grandmother). The best part of our visit to the area was the SANTA Pauli (see what they did there?), Reeperbahn's Christmas Market, which was as different from the rest of the Christmas markets as you can imagine. Being the prince that he is, F skipped the infamous and secretive Herbertstraße just so I wouldn't have a heart attack standing on the street alone (women and children aren't allowed there). We grabbed an excellent veggie burger at Quentin's Burger Bar and went home to sleep before 9PM - wild nights, I tell you.

Hamburg favourite stops: The century-old Speicherstadt, Hamburg State Opera, the Schanzenviertel area, the Santa Pauli and the  'green lungs' park that overlooks the Heinrich Hertz Tower.

Hamburg favourite eats: Groninger, Quentin's Burger Bar, and desserts and tea at Herr Max

Lübeck 

On our way north from Hamburg, about to make the transition into Denmark (more on that in a separate post!), we made a pitstop at what we thought of as a small, unassuming city - Lübeck. Instead, what we found was a perfectly maintained medieval, Gothic paradise in which we enjoyed getting lost for a few hours.

From the steeples of St. Mary's Church, to the arches of Holstentor, the ciy's ancient gates, and finally culminating on the the cobblestone streets of its little alleys and enclosed yards, Lübeck was an ode to German Gothic architecture. The city's illustrious history as a key port in the Hanseatic naval empire meant that its rulers and denizens had a lot of money, and the results of centuries of investment (and mindful modern preservation and restoration) were visible wherever we went. We later found out the city is considered a UNESCO World Heritage Site, and with good reason. 

Lübeck's Christmas market was also one of the best we have visited, with a wood-fired oven baking fresh breads, a myriad of little handmade gifts, and countless stalls serving all manner of German delicacies. We opted to try the ubiqutous German Eierpunsch here, a concoction many compare to eggnog with its combination of egg yolks, white wine, cinnamon & cloves, vanilla and citrus juice. We found it a bit revolting... and my apologies to all Eierpunsch lovers here. We also ate a big serving of fried potatoes with onions, and another dish of sauteed mushrooms with garlic. I'd be hard pressed to choose a favourite among the two. 

Lübeck favourite stops: St. Mary's Church, Holstentor, Lübeck's Christmas market, Lubeck Town Hall and surrounding areas. 

Lübeck favourite eats: We only spent a couple of hours in this city, and ate all of our foods at the Lübeck's Christmas market. However, we strongly encourage you to visit the Niederegger Marzipanerie, home to Lübeck's legendary marzipan shop and museum. You can stock up on typical Lübeckian marzipan in every German grocery store, so save your pennies and just enjoy the store's atmosphere - unless you want to buy one of the specialty products only available in the flagship store.

Potsdam

Our last day in Germany was spent in Potsdam, and specifically - in the beautiful German palace of Sanssouci (meaning, worry-free or no worries in French). Sanssouci was the summer palace of Frederick the Great, King of Prussia, who was a huge Francophile. It is often considered to rival Versailles, the French palace after which Frederick modeled his summer home. We loved exploring its every nook and cranny, and particularly loved the inlaid mosaic ceiling in its Grotto Hall. 

Though there are arguably many things to see and do in Potsdam, we spent our day in the palace and its gardens (which are evidently a lot more impressive in summer), and therefore can't recommend too much else in this city. Wanting to capitalize on our last chance to eat at a German Christmas Market, we grabbed dinner in Potsdam's Old Town Historical Christmas Market. It was a dinner of best hits, where I ate my favourite cooked salmon, F had a currywurst, and we both shared sides of potatoes and mushrooms.

I couldn't have been happier to end our trip on this note.

Postdam favourite stops: Naturally, Palace Sanssouci. Any of the Potsdam Christmas Markets would have been good, but we explored the Old Town Historical Christmas Market for its ease of access to our parking spot. The Bohemian Christmas Market sounds particularly charming!

Postdam favourite eats: We ate at the gigantic Potsdam Historical Chrismas Market, Blauer Lichterglanz.

In short, our Christmas in Northern Germany exploration was a magical combination of history, architecture, and great food. To see glimpses into a previous trip to Germany, look here. If you'd like to try your hand at making German food, check out my recipes for mulled wine, German roasted cauliflower curry bake, and spelt glazed cinnamon buns. This sauerkraut soup offers a German-inspired take on winter fare. I'm sure you'll fall in love with German food like I did. 

The post {TRAVEL} Christmas in Northern Germany, or my foodie guide for traipsing through Northern Europe around the holidays appeared first on At the Immigrant's Table.

My foodie guide this time focuses on the best coffee in Winnipeg: from the perfect micro-foam to the best danishes, Winnipeg's independent coffee shops are simply unforgettable.

To see more of my foodie travel guides, check out my travel section. For a focus on Winnipeg, check out some of the best new restaurants in Winnipeg guide and my Winnipeg-inspired beet latkes recipe.

The moment when...

There's that moment when you're standing in line at the counter, your hand reaching out to clasp around that long-awaited cup.

You can just feel the heat emanating through the sleeve, enveloping the tips of your fingers.

Sense the smell, wafting from your cup just as much as from the bags of coffee strewn all over the place.

Hear the clanking of a thousand little spoons on a thousand little cup edges, heralding the coming of that first sip.

And you feel secure with the knowledge that you are not alone in your love of coffee.

These are the markings of a good independent coffee shop: and in Winnipeg, you are never too far from an excellent cup of java.

This is my foodie guide for the best coffee in Winnipeg. What are your favourites?

Thom Bargen

Thom Bargen, 64 Sherbrook St, Winnipeg, MB R3C 2B3

When Thom Bargen opened down the street from my old apartment in Winnipeg, I knew it was love at first sight.

My first cup from Thom Bargen was purchased mid-fight with G, when I left our apartment in tears and in serious need of a pick-me-up... and then I discovered that I left my wallet at home.

Despite (and perhaps because of) my disheveled appearance, the guys behind the counter let me grab the two coffees to go on credit. I still credit Thom Bargen for saving my relationship on that day.

Parlour

Parlour, 468 Main St, Winnipeg, MB R2H 1E9

Parlour was the first independent third-wave coffee shop to open in the city, and in the eyes of many, it is still the best coffee in Winnipeg.

This minimalist shop has a clean, uncluttered look, strange opening hours and a limited menu, but the quality of the ingredients and the seriousness with which these guys take their coffee knows no equals.

Little Sister Coffee Maker

Little Sister Coffee Maker, 470 River Ave, Winnipeg, MB R3L 0C8

Buoyed by the success of big brother Parlour, Little Sister Coffee Maker opened less than a year later to a collective sigh of relief. 

With more seating space and a welcoming atmosphere, Little Sister offered Parlour's great coffee, with none of its pretentiousness.

Fools & Horses

Fools & Horses, 379 Broadway, Winnipeg, MB R3C 0T9

The new kid on the block of Winnipeg's indie coffee scene is Fools & Horses. With a decor slightly reminiscent of a Greek bath, this place is a stunner.

Add to it a decaf selection that has expectant hipster mommies squealing with joy, Fools & Horses is a beautiful reprieve from the busy professional life that will have you wishing you lived right around the corner.

Forth

Forth, 171 McDermot Ave, Winnipeg, MB R3B 0S1

The newest venture from the Parlour team, Forth is their biggest gamble - and it just may prove to be their biggest success.

The beautiful space on McDermot avenue is not just a coffee shop, but also a co-working office, an art gallery, a subterranean craft cocktails bar and a roastery.

In other words, it's a freelancer's wet dream. So if this gorgeous new space doesn't get your creative juices flowing, you just might be in the wrong business.

Cafe Postal

Café Postal, 202 Provencher Blvd, Winnipeg, MB R2H 0H3

The only independent coffee shop outside the Downtown-Osborne-West Broadway triangle, Café Postal has all the pizzaz and craftsmanship of its brothers (and sister).

It's located in the heart of Winnipeg's French area, and if you close your eyes and ignore the harsh Franco-Manitoban accent, you just might think you are in the 9th arrondissement.

The post {TRAVEL} My foodie guide to the best coffee in Winnipeg appeared first on At the Immigrant's Table.