Published: 3 August 2021
Last updated: 4 March 2024
Jason Diamond Rethinks what it means to be a “Jewish” restaurant in New York
THIS PAST MARCH, Elyssa Heller opened Edith’s in Williamsburg. Three weeks ago, while sitting at the sandwich counter, I had an epiphany, one that forced me to reconsider my long-held belief that bagel sandwiches are terrible. Bagels are wonderful, of course, but they are too much — too chewy, too thick — for sandwiches.
At Edith’s, the homemade bagels are smaller, lighter. Eating the shop’s smoked amberjack with scallions, radishes, labneh, and trout roe was one of the most enjoyable experiences I’ve ever had smooshing together two halves of a poppyseed bagel.
The revelation was not necessarily that bagels can make good sandwiches; it was more that somebody had taken the time to rethink what a bagel could be, and had, in turn, made me rethink one aspect of my culture’s food.
I’ve come to appreciate my Jewishness through food more than anything else. As a writer, I’m sometimes given the opportunity to explore topics like how bialys help me calm my nerves or the sadness I and every person who ever stepped into Sammy’s Roumanian felt upon hearing the news that the beloved spot would no longer be clogging the arteries of locals and tourists.
But I don’t write about “Jewish” food. To say I write about “Jewish food” would put me in a box where I don’t want to be. It would also be at odds with my thinking that Jewish food can be whatever a Jewish person happens to be cooking or eating.
The only thing I know for sure is that “Jewish food” is not one thing — it isn’t just bagels or bialys or pastrami — but, lately, that is too often what I see when a new Jewish restaurant opens.
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