I'm generally a great fan of Israeli food, but a couple nights ago, I was complaining that I hadn't yet found a good steak in Israel. The stuff they serve in restaurants here is a thin, dry, tough affair compared to what you can find at Daniel's or Ruth's Chris or El Gaucho.
But last night I had to repent of my complaint. After work (meaning, after the flood of initial Bellevue emails finally slowed down and we finished our three hours of video conference meetings), several of us headed over to Moti's house for some pool, poker and especially some food. Moti has summer barbecues down to a science, and we were the collective beneficiaries of his culinary skills. The entrecote he prepared on his backyard grill was as good as I've had: flavorful, juicy, tender, with just the right selection of spices. Yuval summed it up: "Moti doesn't just cook meet. He loves it."
In between courses, we played some pool (at which I suck) and some poker (at which I suck only slightly less).
The poker table was spread out in Moti's back yard, and was well furnished with cigars, whiskey and willing patsies.
After having emptied me and Doug out on our last visit, Meir and Moris decided we were going to play "for honor" this time around. Moris, however, took my honor (no crude jokes, please) as easily as he had previously taken my money.
Between the cigars, whiskey, wine, and not getting to bed until 3:00 am -- I was dragging when I got up this morning. But I'm flying back to Seattle tonight on a red-eye, and with any luck, I'll catch up on my sleep then. It will be very good to get back to my wife: but still, I'll miss Israel.
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