Blintches

There is no website or even WIFI @ Blintches, so no hyperlink to the menu. Sorry.
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I said Blintches, bitches! And mmmmm, they are good!

First of all, they are called blintches here. No hard ‘tz’ for this European delicacy. Second, these are most decidedly not your frozen blueberry and cheese, post Yom Kippur break-fast blintzes that bubbie used to make. Unless of course your bubbie was from Budapest.

Blintches is a 45 year old establishment off of Dizengoff and Yirmiyahu Street in North Tel Aviv. The place has not been remodeled since Moshe Sharet last ate there with Trumpledor. The decor is perfect for this menu; a cross between a diner outside of Chelm and your grandmother’s kitchen, replete with post it notes by the phone and pictures of old rabbis. The tablecloths came straight off of the aprons of Hungarian dolls at the Budapest Duty Free.

But, lets face it. No one is eating here for the decor or the history. This is a Hungarian mainstay that offers a focused and different menu that will please the dairy loving belly.

I had the onion soup (on a summer day, no less) that came with hand made croutons, but these were more like Iraqi cookies, thick, crusty and with sesame seeds. My bride had the potato soup. My offspring enjoyed the fresh and fanciful salad.

All was great and lovely, but we came for the blintches and they were worth the trip.

The words blintze evolved from the Slavic word for pancake. These were just that. Very thin, crepe like flats that could be made sweet or savory. I had one with cheese and spinach, another with mushrooms and one with sweet curry. They were smothered in cheeses and a sweet cream and then baked for about 15 minutes. The temperature was bordering on Chernobyl, but after it cooled off and the tastes could be appreciated, it did not disappoint.

Accompanying the lunch at 1:30 in the afternoon was a small basket with an assortment of alcoholic shots. Vanilla and chocolate liqueurs and some vodka too. Believe it or not, they hit the spot.

The only thing that made this open kitchen even more memorable was the central casting, literal mom & pop, cooking and running the show. It looked like the momma’s head band was a hand-me-down from Mr. Miyagi, but dont you fret. She could wax on the delicious in this place and her food “swept the leg!”

The two Olim from Eastern Europe took great pride in their trade and showed beautiful hospitality to their customers. We were invited to come and join them for Shabbat!

While not a meal that changed my life or a place I need to come back to often, I am very glad I made the trek and hope that future generations will enjoy this experience for the tastes, smells, feelings and sights that it offers.