Joy

Last week Frederique, me, Warwick and Ziva went out to eat at Joy on Emek Refaiim in Jerusalem. Gersh had recommended this particular restaurant whilst we were driving back from the daboiz cultural evening last November. He'd said the food was more than decent and very reasonable for the price.
I have mixed emotions about Joy because it stands where my favourite wine shop used to, before it went under. Joy’s been there for some time but I’ve never gone in. Customer loyalty and all that I guess. The security guard outside the door greeted us warmly, especially my wife. We know him from the days he worked at Rami Levi’s when they were still at the Bezek place on Yad Charutzim and then later from Yoja’s. As it turns out he shares the same surname as my wife. He appeased my aggravation somewhat.
We are led to our table by one of Israel’s most consistently agreeable products, the nubile waitress. Managing to momentarily steer your eyes away from ones beaconing hostess stalwartly guiding you through the crush of well manned tables, dispersed through a pair of expansive, dimly lit rooms, their size and height impressing on you that the hearty boisterousness you are inhaling would not be unbefitting to a dinning hall at Hogwarts, you notice that the heads of most of the well decked out gentlemen gracing the establishment, escorted by handsomely attired women, are donned with kipoth. Chutz l’aretz!
Having taken our seats, our waitress most kindly saves us reading the menu and exhorts with great competence the choice of specials of the day. Top of the list, she asks if we’d be interested in a bottle of Meron wine and at a price you’d expect to pay at the bottle shop. We agree happily. They’ve got me and Warwick hooked, hook line and sinker. Then taken in by her charms or just lazy we choose from among the specials she’s suggested.
The bottle arrives presently and at Ziva’s suggestion we take a first course of grilled eggplant in tahina. It’s a dish I’m very partial to. While we’re dipping away a dapper, slight middle aged man cruising by our table stops to have a chat. Don’t know him from a bar of soap, but he seems a pleasant enough guy, interested in our impression of the food. Turns out that he’s the proprietor and seeing how full the place is on a week night there’s no reason he shouldn’t be contented with his lot in the world.
To accompany the wine we’ve chosen steak New York and our friends have taken chuck steak in a stew sauce. We’re all very content with the food. My quandary about commemorating the deceased wine shop has been laid to rest.
Oh and the bill, with the fine wine included, but no dessert needed, about $50Aus per head.