It may be far from the heimishe enclaves of north London, Leeds and Manchester, but Bristol, with its patrician, golden-stone architecture and arty gallery scene, is apparently acquiring Jewish taste buds.
Netanya-born Edna Yeffet has seen her hummus, sabich and spicy matubasha go from strength to strength since fulfilling her dream of opening her own café, while Robin and Flora Slater have found a solid enough market to launch their own salt beef bar.
What’s going on? Yeffet, who dabbled in arts, crafts and jewellery-making for 12 years before making her leap into catering, cites the Ottolenghi effect for the popularity of Israeli food in Bristol.
The Slaters think the appetite for their very different offering is down to a well-travelled population with a taste for exotic ethnic fare.
“Only half our customers may be Jewish, but the other half have acquired a taste for salt beef in London or abroad,” says Flora Slater, whose husband Robin conceived the idea of The Pickled Brisket 15 years after leaving the capital and desperately missing his favourite family dish.
“It had acquired a ritualistic significance in the north London home where I grew up,” he explains. “My great-aunt Gertie, who lived with us, used to steep and turn the meat in brine under the spare bed in a room which had become something of a sacred space. I remember her dragging me around every chemist within a five mile radius looking for saltpetre to add to the cure. Later, when we craved salt beef every single Sunday, we used to bring it home from the deli,” says Robin.
It was, however, making the acquaintance of another Jewish family, the Lebetkins, which set Robin off on the salt beef career he did not even dream of until close to turning 40. At Mill Hill school, his sister Juliette became friendly with Lisa Lebetkin, whose father David had his own salt beef bar and delicatessen.
“I remember my dad, Terry, putting a coat on over his pyjamas and going to David’s deli in Stanmore to get smoked salmon and bagels on a Sunday morning. When he bought their salt beef sandwiches, he used to run back with them so we could enjoy them hot.”
Robin moved to Bristol, where he met Flora, a teacher and aspiring actress. They moved back to the capital — within easy reach of salt beef — to pursue their careers. Robin’s new job in television brought them back to Bristol, where, having been made redundant two years ago and with three young daughters to feed, Robin decided to take the leap into making a living from preparing his favourite food.
“I’d do the school run and research the market while Flora taught full-time,” recalls Robin. “My great mentor was David Lebetkin, who by that time had won the salt beef concession for Wembley Stadium. He knew all the tricks of serving hot salt beef in a mobile setting.” Having spent two years selling out of the sandwiches at farmers’ markets around the south-west, the couple felt they could sustain a permanent site. At the end of May, The Pickled Brisket opened within a shipping container at Cargo 2 at Wapping Wharf, one of the city’s most vibrant dining destinations.
The couple have learnt that the bread is as important as the beef, sourcing proper rye with caraway seeds from a local Polish baker. They have also created a bespoke mustard recipe laced with pale ale and juniper.
They have had to accept regretfully that Bristolians showed little appetite for gefilte fish balls in their test runs, but are planning to add chicken soup and borscht to their salt beef sandwich and salad box menu in the winter.
Will they succeed? Another couple with a passion for Jewish food who closed their restaurant less than two years after a glowing review in the Guardian are unconvinced. “There is no Jewish food scene in Bristol,” claims owner of Aron’s Deli, Steve Varcoe, who gave their restaurant the family name of his wife Marta. The Varcoes dispensed chopped liver with gribenes and similar Eastern European fare at Aron’s Deli restaurant, but are still offering the same Jewish staples as private caterers, so there may yet be local interest.
Yeffet is more hopeful and says she competes daily with two rivals, Eat a Pitta, and Falafel King, both of whom sell their home-made, fried chickpea balls not far from her kiosk café in the city’s Castle Park.
“My falafel is green, full of herbs, and it’s not all i do; I also offer other Israeli street food favourites like sabich — fried aubergines stuffed into pitta with hummus and hard-boiled eggs. When people smell the food and then find out how tasty it is, they come back for more,” says the mother of two. However, Yeffet believes that she and her rivals should be careful not to be too specific about the ethnic origin of their food.
“I feel Israel is not Britain’s most favourite nation, and even on Independence Day, I did not feel I could wave the flag as much as I would have liked. My falafel-making rivals don’t advertise the fact that they are Jewish, and while I don’t conceal it, I prefer to present my food as Middle Eastern.”
