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With his New York restaurant, Shmoné, Israeli chef Eyal Shani earns his first Michelin nod
(New York Jewish Week) — Israeli celebrity chef Eyal Shani, who currently boasts 40 restaurants worldwide, became a sensation on these shores when he opened Miznon in 2018 at Chelsea Market. There, he introduced New Yorkers to a new style of Mediterranean street food that eclipsed the usual falafel, hummus and shawarma offerings. Locals and tourists alike lined up to devour Shani’s smashed potatoes, inventive pita creations and now-iconic whole roasted cauliflower heads.
Last May, Shani opened the latest addition to his NYC restaurant group: The aptly named Shmoné, which is located on West Eighth St. — “shmoné” is eight in Hebrew. The restaurant’s fresh approach — it features a new menu daily — landed Shani in the Michelin guide for the first time ever earlier this year, nominated for coveted star status. According to Michelin, “this small, sleek space punches way above its weight with dazzling Neo-Levantine cuisine.”
“I’m very, very happy for that, [but] I’m not focusing on getting Michelin stars,” Shani told the New York Jewish Week.
In fact, though he takes pride in all his restaurants — and voices enthusiasm for every culinary feat — Shani doesn’t believe Shmoné is “his most creative spot.” And yet, he said Shmoné is a very personal place to him, one of his most beloved restaurants. Ever the raconteur, he spoke about the energy that he puts into his food there and the harmony that results. “You need the magic,” he said. “I cannot explain it.”
As with all his restaurants, Shmoné has an open kitchen, which allows diners to observe the “food choreography,” as he called it. “I’m not cooking without a precise address,” he said. “I will cook for you when I see you. I am cooking for your eyes. If I cannot see you, I’m not cooking for you.”
Local sourcing and farm-fresh ingredients play a key role, too — something that Shani sees as very Israeli. “[Our ancestors] used to eat very pure, very close to the earth,” he said. “When you serve pure food to people it reminds them of something that’s exciting them.” The staff at Shmoné comb the Union Square Greenmarket for fresh produce, while their chicken is sourced from a small farm in Pennsylvania.
Shmoné’s menu is divided into categories by “creature” — though Shani utilizes an unconventionally broad definition of the word, including not only animal life but produce, breads and desserts. A “wheat creature” could be focaccia with sour cream; an “earth creature” could be tomato ovaries and green chili or a “stretchy stracciatella lasagna” served in a pyrex tray. Shani’s distinctive sense of humor is evident throughout the menu; for example, Shmoné previously served a dish called “I think I’ve managed to make a better mashed potato than [renowned French Chef Joel] Robuchon and it’s vegan.”
Like Shani’s other restaurants, Shmoné has an open kitchen and focuses on fresh produce. (Max Flatow)
Shani, 64, was born in Jerusalem and now lives in Tel Aviv. A self-trained chef who had studied cinematography, he cited a few inspirations for his career, though a major one was his vegan grandfather, who lived upstairs. Shani’s grandfather served him raw food, juices and salads and, in taking Shani to vineyards and markets, taught him to appreciate the purity of vegetables and fruit.
After his army service, Shani traveled for two years in Europe. But when a girl broke his heart, he returned to Israel and lived on a friend’s farm in the north. It was there that he decided to become a chef. “I lived there for a year like a priest — I ate from the fields and drank the water that I took from the ground,” he said. “One day, there were some hunters who were my friends and they came to bring me four porcupines. I lit the fire and ate [them], drank two bottles of wine and fell asleep in the middle of the field. I woke up in the morning and decided that all I wanted to do was cook.”
After painting houses for a while, Shani got a job in 1988 at Hotel HaSharon’s restaurant in the Herzylia Pituah neighborhood of Tel Aviv. He admitted he did not know how to cook but promised to work hard. Once he advanced to sous chef, the future restaurateur could be found racing to the parking lot to refer to the Julia Child cookbook he had tucked away in his car.
In 1989, Shani opened his first restaurant, Oceanus, in Jerusalem. A small, 24-seat space, it offered bouillabaisse, focaccia, fish and salad, and it was there that Shani began to really hone his skills. It closed after 11 years and was followed by Ocean in Tel Aviv, open for two years. Then, in 2008 he and his partner, Shahar Segal, opened the trendy, high-end HaSalon in Tel Aviv, serving up modern takes on Israeli cuisine with some Italian influences. This was the start of his restaurant empire in Israel; soon HaSalon was followed by the casual Miznon and seven others.
After he established himself solidly as a force in Israel, Shani expanded the Miznon chain to Paris in 2013, then Vienna in 2016, followed by Singapore, Melbourne and, eventually, New York, where Shani said he was seduced by the city’s exciting, vast and diverse food scene, calling it “the essence of American culture.”
At the same time, Shani said he feels challenged to upend New Yorkers’ culinary expectations. “When they are putting walls around me it’s seducing me, it’s seducing me to break them,” he said. “It’s my nature.”
From that first Miznon outpost at Chelsea Market, Shani expanded to eight restaurants across Manhattan, including a two-story Miznon North sit-down restaurant on the Upper West Side in 2019. (One Miznon branch has since closed.) That same year he opened HaSalon on Tenth Ave., where he serves dishes like “Hell’s Chicken” (a play on the neighborhood, Hell’s Kitchen), and a hand-rolled 12-foot pici pasta noodle, inspired by the notion that everything in New York is big and presented on a large scale.
Shani opened Naked Tomato, a skewer restaurant with generous salad accompaniments, in Hudson Yards during the pandemic. There, he became notorious for serving a single tomato on a plate for $24, inspired by a “perfect tomato” that he came across in an upstate New York greenhouse. “If a dish is a sentence, my culinary sentence is one word and that is the subject,” he said. “If I’m doing something with tomato, it will only be tomato: no sauces to warp it, cover it or mask it. You have to serve it completely naked. You are standing completely naked in front of your plate, in front of your audience.”
Shani explained that, with each new restaurant he opens, he visits each location and tries “to get some signals.”
“I can feel the environment, I see my team, I’m looking at the architecture, absorbing the atmosphere, the energy, the vibe of the place,” he told the New York Jewish Week. “It’s like a new ingredient coming to me and something inside myself assembling [assembles] them into the shape of a new restaurant.”
Shani says he immerses himself fully into the process of opening a new place. “I’m there and all the outer world disappears, all the noises are cut and I’m completely focused on one thing, and that is the only thing that exists in my life.”
And the new places keep coming: Since 2021, Shani has opened restaurants in Toronto, London, Miami and Boston, and, most recently, Dubai. Currently in the works are expansions to Amsterdam, Mexico City, Barcelona and Zurich, and two more New York eateries are also coming soon: a Miznon outpost uptown at 2895 Broadway, near Columbia University, as well as a “gastro bar” called Port Said, which is slated to open at 350 Hudson St. this summer.
“When you are establishing a restaurant you cannot change it anymore — it’s got its own character,” he said. “Because I’m changing all the time, I’m opening restaurants all the time.”
As for the recent Michelin nod, even though it was for a New York-based restaurant, Shani said it was “one of the most wonderful things that can happen for Israel,” as it will continue to enhance the country’s reputation as a culinary destination.
“Israeli cuisine started 70 years ago — it began without roots in any tradition,” he said. “Nothing is shaping them besides their ideas and imagination. Israelis are importing ideas and then shaping them in their own way, and that makes the cuisine so special.”
Shani is not shy about the impact he has made when it comes to introducing Israeli food to the world. “I’m the godfather of Israeli cuisine,” he said. “The main structure of Israeli food was built by me.”
Ultimately, no matter the price point or location of his various restaurants, Shani believes his food brings people joy. “I think it’s about giving happiness to people, he said. “That is my cuisine.”
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The post With his New York restaurant, Shmoné, Israeli chef Eyal Shani earns his first Michelin nod appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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To Prevent Antisemitism in Schools Like Berkeley, Enforce the Rules Already on the Books
Illustrative: Demonstrators holding a “Stand Up for Internationals” rally on the campus of the University of California, Berkeley, in Berkeley, California, US, April 17, 2025. Photo: Carlos Barria via Reuters Connect.
At California’s Berkeley High School (BHS), teachers are interrupting their normally-scheduled classroom lessons to talk about the Iran war.
Given the Berkeley school district’s dismal record on antisemitism, will BHS once again become a venue for Israel-bashing, or even conspiracy theories that Israel manipulated the United States into attacking Iran? If signs of such activity emerge, what can be done to stop it?
Part of the solution — at least at the K-12 level — is simple: state and local governments must ensure that school districts enforce pre-existing constitutional constraints, state educational codes, and school district rules that prohibit indoctrination in the classroom.
Of course, that is not always so easy. One teachers’ group held a teach-in to address the purported causes of the October 7 attack, during which they shared curricular materials such as a guide to “settler colonialism” that defines Hamas as “a resistance movement” and tells students the United States only calls Hamas a terrorist organization because of its “measures against the occupation.”
Materials like these then make their way into BHS classrooms. One history teacher, who reportedly used antisemitic stereotypes in class, showed an anti-Israel video and required her students to respond to the prompt: “To what extent should Israel be considered an Apartheid State?”
When Jewish students complained, the Berkeley Unified School District (BUSD) simply transferred them out of her class. Also at BHS, according to the Brandeis Center complaint, an art teacher reportedly showed the class “violent, pro-Hamas videos.” The teacher also allegedly promoted student walkouts and demonstrations, and projected antisemitic images such as a fist punching through a Star of David. Jewish students were again transferred to a new class, only to find their new teacher wore Free Palestine stickers on her clothing.
What’s especially disturbing about these incidents is that the BUSD already has a policy in place to prevent this kind of ideological offensive material in the classroom. According to BUSD’s “Policy 6144: Controversial Issues,” when a teacher chooses to address such a subject, they should “ensure that all sides of a controversial issue are impartially presented,” and, “The teacher may not use his/her position to forward his/her own historical, religious, political, economic or social bias.”
According to a Supreme Court decision in Garcetti v. Ceballos (2006), such rules are consistent with freedom of speech because, when public employees are carrying out their official duties, their speech does not have the same First Amendment protection as private citizens. State governments have implemented regulations based on this principle.
Texas Educational Code § 28.0022 states that when teachers discuss a controversial topic of public policy, they should “explore that topic objectively and in a manner free from political bias.” Moreover, the code stipulates that teachers cannot assign tasks to students that involve political advocacy.
Similarly, the Florida State Board of Education issued Florida Administrative Code, Rule 6A-10.081, which stipulates that teachers shall not “unreasonably deny a student access to diverse points of view” or “intentionally distort or misrepresent facts concerning an educational matter.”
Yet without enforcement, such policies have little value.
BUSD parents have lodged more than 100 complaints of violations targeting Jewish students. Now, both the US Department of Education and the House of Representatives’ Education and Workforce Committee are investigating antisemitism in the BUSD. Parents have also brought a civil rights lawsuit against the district.
Clearly, school districts across the country should be enforcing policies against propaganda and bigotry in the classroom. But changing the ways of a resistant school district like BUSD is easier said than done. It will entail investigating and then educating the community about existing laws, rules, and codes pertaining to teachers’ speech and conduct. And it will involve persuading parents and students to work with civil rights groups and the local, state, and Federal governments to hold public teachers and administrators accountable.
Our country relies on its schools to endow students with the skills necessary for critical thinking and independent thought. If teachers themselves cannot rise above their prejudices and partisan sentiments, then American schools are not likely to turn out students resistant to conspiracy theories and propaganda.
Naomi Friedman is an Education Fellow at the Foundation for Defense of Democracies.
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Who Owns the Story? Israel Needs Images and Messages That Match the Palestinian Narrative
Protestors in Melbourne unfurl a watermelon banner in solidarity with Palestinian ‘resistance.’ (Photo: Screenshot)
In today’s hyperconnected world, legitimacy is no longer determined solely by history books or diplomatic recognition. It is shaped, distilled, and often distorted in the fast-moving currents of digital culture. Narratives are no longer argued — but they are absorbed, shared, and symbolized. And increasingly, they are decided not by depth, but by clarity and repetition.
For many who support Israel, this presents a growing challenge. The issue is not a lack of historical grounding or factual legitimacy. It is that these truths are not being communicated with the same force, simplicity, and creativity as competing narratives. In a landscape driven by visuals and emotion, complexity alone does not win attention.
At the heart of the matter lies an enduring reality: the Jewish connection to the land of Israel is ancient, continuous, and foundational. It predates modern political frameworks and is rooted in centuries of cultural, religious, and historical presence. This is not a claim constructed in recent decades; it is a defining element of Jewish identity itself.
Yet historical continuity does not automatically translate into contemporary resonance. In the digital arena, meaning is often assigned through symbols that travel faster than context. One of the more curious examples of this phenomenon is the rise of the watermelon as a political emblem.
Today, the image is widely recognized as associated with pro-Palestinian expression. But its origins are neither exclusive nor inherently political. The fruit itself traces back thousands of years to regions of Africa, long before it became entangled in modern symbolism. Its eventual adoption as a visual shorthand was shaped by circumstance, not destiny.
Rather than dismissing or avoiding widely circulated symbols, there is an opportunity to engage with them differently — and to embed them with alternative narratives. The goal is not to negate others, but to assert presence within the same visual language.
Currently, one of the obstacles facing pro-Israel advocacy is not a lack of material, but a lack of cohesion. Messaging often emerges reactively, responding to trends rather than shaping them. Meanwhile, opposing narratives benefit from clarity, emotional appeal, and visual uniformity.
That imbalance can be addressed by approaching communication not only as a matter of accuracy, but of strategy.
Facts remain essential — but in a digital environment, they must be paired with compelling storytelling and recognizable imagery. A well-crafted symbol can reach audiences that a detailed explanation never will.
Reframing something as simple as a watermelon is not about the object itself. It is about demonstrating that meaning is not fixed, and that narratives are not surrendered unless they are abandoned. Because ultimately, the question is not just who holds the stronger argument. It is who communicates it in a way that resonates.
To shape understanding, one must also shape the story.
Sabine Sterk is the CEO of Time To Stand Up For Israel.
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I’m a UMich Student: All Countries Are Welcome — Except Israel
Law enforcement clash with pro-Hamas demonstrators at the University of Michigan on Aug. 28, 2024. Photo: Brendan Gutenschwager/X
Tea time is my favorite part of each week. As the tea chair for the historic Martha Cook Building, an all-women’s dorm at the University of Michigan in operation since 1915, I have the joy of planning and hosting our weekly Friday teas.
Out of all our building traditions, International Tea is one of the most popular. Martha Cook residents (affectionately nicknamed “Cookies”) sign up to represent a country, and host a table offering information and a cultural snack. Friends are invited, foods from across the world are tasted, and on-campus cultural groups perform.
As I did last year, I signed up to represent Israel. I’m a Jewish student who is heavily involved in the pro-Israel community on campus, so naturally, Israel is the country I chose to showcase. The Monday before International Tea, the flags from each country went up. I smiled as I passed the Israeli flag on my way out of the building.
When I came back from the day’s classes, the Israeli flag was gone. I notified the Martha Cook House Board.
Fast forward to that Friday: the day of International Tea. After our weekly House Board meeting concluded, a representative from MHousing called me into another room.
“I just wanted to let you know before you set up for tea that someone has defaced your board.”
That morning, I was already worried that my Israel board (a tri-fold that each participant makes, celebrating the country’s culture) had been set up too early, since I had a feeling that someone might do something like that.
“What did they write?” I asked, “Free Palestine? Genocide? Apartheid?”
“No, they wrote, ‘Notable resident: Epstein.’”
That was not what I expected. Jeffrey Epstein has nothing to do with Israel. But that’s the logic now: lump together anything even remotely perceived as related to Judaism and pin the guilt on the Jewish State. On today’s campus, every grievance is interconnected — except, apparently, the one about Jews being targeted.
Police reports had already been filed for both the flag theft and the vandalism. This was just the icing on the cake for a week that had included both the official passing of a BDS resolution in our student government and the election of a new student body president who ran with the slogan, “Free laundry, free Palestine.” I would not be surprised if these anti-Israel “successes” emboldened the actions of the Martha Cook flag thief and vandal.
When I chose to represent Israel, I chose to represent a culture. I made no comment on the government nor any conflict. The reaction to the Israeli flag simply being displayed and the vandalism on my board are indicative of what campus has been like.
Since I first stepped on campus in August of 2023, I have found myself in an environment that emphasizes feelings over facts and political correctness over discussion. Even before the October 7th attacks, the campus culture was one in which it was taboo to push back on anything that did not fall into the popular narratives. The aftermath of October 7th pushed this to the next level.
Before Israel even responded to Hamas’ attack, protesters were calling Israel genocidal and advocating for the destruction of the country “from the river to the sea.” Thousands of students with no prior knowledge of Middle Eastern history or connection to the conflict began hopping on the anti-Israel bandwagon and marching around as “social justice” warriors.
The 2023-24 school year was the most divided, hostile environment I have experienced. When my friends or I tried to have conversations with people who were tagging along with the anti-Israel groups, we were either turned away, ignored, or had anti-Zionist buzzwords yelled at us. No one engaged with what we were actually saying. They just repeated slogans.
As campus calmed down, the performative activists largely moved on to trendier issues. But the small, dedicated group of anti-Israel agitators remains an active and insidious force.
There will always be those who are against us. What matters is that we, the Jewish community and our allies, stand up for the truth and for what is right. We must keep ourselves educated on the conflict. We must continue to host pro-Israel programming. We must have conversations when we can, respectfully engaging with those who disagree with us. We must do all of this while attending classes, keeping up with our studies, and cheering on our amazing Michigan sports teams (Go Blue!).
In a time when the future looks uncertain, I remain hopeful. Despite all of the hate directed at the Jewish community, I look around and see young, strong Jewish leaders stepping up and making a difference. We strive to be a light among the nations, and we are not going anywhere.
Addison Stone is a junior at the University of Michigan studying War & Conflict Studies and Theatre. She serves on the boards of Students Supporting Israel, Wolverine for Israel, and Michigan Israel Public Affairs Committee.