This 'n' That

(written for eLuna Website)

Restaurant review:

Blues Brothers Argentinian Steak House, 3 Luntz Street (on the Midrechov), tel. 625-8621. Open 10 a.m. to 1 a.m.

Blues Brothers is the right kind of place for Papa Bear to take the Three Little Bears for lunch. I get to sink my well-sharpened choppers into a manly hunk o' beef. But the little 'uns, their teeth seem to sort of bounce off a serious steak. They just don't have the jaw power. Happily, the menu has plenty for the delicate li'l darlin's to choose from.

So, what'll it be, girls?

"Pizza!"

Now, this is a bit embarrassing, because we're sitting at a steak house, and besides, I've always tried to teach my girls culinary sophistication. Pizza, I growl, is not a choice.

"OK, then chips."

"Me too."

It's bad enough to have an unrefined child who, for instance, wouldn't know a Yarden '85 from vinegar, but when we make a public spectacle of ourselves, it's in triplicate.

You know I'm only kidding. My brood is, in fact, wonderfully behaved in public, thanks to their impeccable breeding. (If you've ever seen ME at a restaurant, you'll realize the breeding comes from their mother, who is painfully British.)

As I said, I like taking hungry kids here. In the past, we've been to places were it was obvious they didn't want small people who might knock over a glass. No such thing at Blues Brothers. "We love kids," Nissim, the very friendly manager, insisted. "If someone comes here and complains about kids, we suggest he go somewhere else to eat."

Indeed, every so often Nissim came by for a chat with my girls, and when we left, there were kisses and hugs all around. I get the feeling they're good-humored even with misbehaving brats.

They feed adults too. A lovely couple at the next table, tourists from New York, told me they ALWAYS come to Blues Brothers on every trip to Israel. This time, they came straight from the airport. Opposite the grill is a wall covered with photos of some pretty important VIPs who've eaten there, but one is conspicuously missing. Blues Brothers has hosted none other than Bill Clinton -- twice! They have the White House certificate of appreciation to prove it.

There's a quiet room upstairs, away from the hubbub of the street, where the ranch-style Argentinian atmosphere surrounds you. But we opted for the Israeli atmosphere outdoors. The ambience is wonderfully Yerushalmi al fresco, because the restaurant's location is right smack in the middle of it, on the Midrechov.

There's live entertainment, courtesy of the street musicians. We love watching the people parade, trying to guess something funny (or rude) about the strangers promenading past us.

"I like to watch how the ladies try to show themselves off to the men," said nine-year-old Odelia.

"I especially look at people's shoes," said nine-year-old Donna.

"I like to watch the lovers," said nine-year-old Nomi. (I have a lot of nine year old children.)

Never mind what I like to look at. When the food comes, nothing else matters.

We started with a gigantic plate of vegetables, humous, eggplant salad and pitot. I warned the girls not to pack down on the starters, but Nomi tends to get grumpy when she's hungry, so she tore right in. My other companions nibbled a bit, but held back for "the good stuff."

As we perused the menu, Nissim suggested we trust him to order for us. But I know my girls: one's picky, the other finicky, the third fussy. "They've never eaten steak before," I warned him. It turns out Nissim knows 'em better than I do. He promised to come up with a steak they could manage, and to my amazement, he did: a fabulous fillet that was super-soft and infused with juice. Now my girls think ALL steaks are like this.

The kids' menu is very affordable, even if you treat them to their first steak. For NIS 37, they get fillet, salad and chips; a hamburger or chicken meal is only NIS 25.

The menu is varied, offering the gamut of steaks (entrecote, 300 grams, NIS 74; chorizo, 500 grams, NIS 92; fillet, 300 grams, NIS 89, or 500 grams, NIS 146; veal fillet, NIS 95), plus shwarma, chicken, burgers, fish, and that old Israeli favorite...

"Shnitzel! Daddy, look, they brought us shnitzel!" Nomi's eyes popped.

"It's super-DUPER," Odelia opined, and Nomi complained that she was going to say the same thing. Donna had a puzzled look. "It's really soft, and it's crunchy," she said. "Daddy, how can something taste both soft AND crunchy?"

My chimba steak (600 grams, NIS 108) was a kingly treat, seared to perfection. It was not kid food, though, and they suggested I stick to that and lay off the fillet, which they would devour themselves. I was somewhat jealous, but a father has to make sacrifices.

"Nissim should be a daddy and have lots of kids," Nomi observed. "He's really smart: he knows we like chips, and ketchup, and we didn't even have to ask for spoons, he knew that too." Nissim told me they don't serve fatty, tough or rare steaks to children.

Nomi was the first to give up. "You were right, Daddy. I'm stuffed." She politely excused herself to go powder her nose, as it were. When she came back, she recommended we all do the same. "You should write this in your review, Daddy, the bathroom is actually CLEAN!"

"Hungry for more?" I asked.

"No!"

"Anybody want dessert?"

"YES!"

This is one of the mysteries of the human condition, but this being a restaurant, and not a university, I chose not to make a thing of it.

Checking the list of desserts, Odelia furrowed her brow. "This is strange. They have peas for dessert."

"Can't be," I assured her.

"Really! Look!"

It read "pies."

We agreed that a refreshing plate of melon slices would be an ideal finish for a meal like this. Nomi promised that next time, she would eat just a tiny bit of the starter, control herself through the main course, and leave plenty of room for the chocolate mousse.

"Good thinking," I said, but I knew it was hopeless. She's Daddy's little girl, just like me when it comes to eating. Poor thing, she'll be promising that to herself all her life, but it'll never happen.

Maybe next time Nissim will let us start with the chocolate mousse, and leave the salad for dessert.