If there’s one thing I love about Israeli food, besides the fact that it is as varied as Israelis themselves, it’s the different kinds of places there are to eat. You can find fancy restaurants where the waiters have white napkins over their arms, cafés where during your meal you can pull a book off of the wall-to-wall bookshelves and add it to your bill (or not), and falafel stands that are no more than a window from which a Yemenite Israeli hands out fresh falafel balls before you order.

One of the most popular types of restaurants in Israel is the kind known as a ‘ptilia.’ …

It’s one of my favorite, too – they are restaurants where you walk in and sit down in the guy’s kitchen. The perfect cross between finding a place with an atmosphere and eating in your own kitchen.

It sometimes seems like around every corner in Israel there are two or three of these places – crammed into small spaces, you’ll walk in to find a chef/waiter/cashier standing amid pots and pans on a makeshift oven which he has usually tweaked himself, taking orders while cooking, counting change while washing dishes, and all the while debating politics with his friend sitting at one of the tables.

Just a little while ago, while in Jerusalem, I made a special trip to my favorite ptilia, smack in the middle of Jerusalem’s largest outdoor market. You make a left at the pita stall, another left at the red peppers, and go straight until you get to the end of the corn. Since the place has been gaining in popularity over the years, and there are only about four tables, there’s no waiting for a free table – you just sit at any open chair, whether or not there are others at the table. The food so good that decorum kind of goes out the window.

Before you order, you have to be prepared to defend your choices. I was there with a couple of other people, and we hollered over to the chef that we wanted four meatballs, as well as one of the side dishes. “Are you sure?” the chef asked us. “The meatballs are big – maybe you should only order three? Three is really enough for you – one for each person,” he said, looking us up and down. We insisted on four, of course, but he kept a close eye on us to make sure that we finished what we had ordered. He was almost right about the meatballs, but, sensing his eyes on our backs, we stuffed down the last one.

After eating, you have to bring your dishes over to the chef/waiter/cashier, pass them to him over the seven or eight pots all boiling over at once, and then pay. Be prepared for change mixed with a bit of soap suds.

It’s not a spotless restaurant, it’s far from fancy, and you have to sometimes eat with strangers. But the food is phenomenal and the experience unforgettable.

Great. Now I’m hungry.