May 1- 7, 2003

food

Manna From Heaven

Bright spot: The Promised Landâs exotic homeyness fits the menu nicely. Photo By: Michael T. Regan

For the best Israeli food in the city, lead your people to The Promised Land, in the Northeast.

by Elisa Ludwig

In case the Ten Commandments on the sign didn't tip you off to the Semitic vibe, tourist posters of Jerusalem, the chamesh (hand-shaped ornament) on every wall or the photo of the Lubavitcher Rebbe might. The Promised Land is a hallowed hall of Israeli eating, just a door down from Bustleton Bingo in the Northeast's Presidential shopping plaza. Thou shall not show up on Shabbat or thou shall not get served.

Any other day of the week you will be greeted with friendly and amenable service, the hallmark of a family-run establishment. The clean and bright cafeteria-style restaurant has been decorated in the color scheme familiar to viewers of Miami Vice. Gold foil place mats and a few strategically placed artificial vines give the impression of exotic homeyness. Behind the tiled counter, plastic sheeting separates the proper kitchen from the serving area, leaving the deep-frying visible to the curious.

With Passover behind us, Jewish eating can return to a glory unhampered by the limitations of matzoh meal. And Israeli cuisine offers a global spectrum of flavors, influenced by neighboring countries, North Africa and Eastern Europe. A schnitzel sandwich with tahini is just one example of its typical culinary cross-pollination. Promised Land represents that bounty with goulash, kefta kabobs and Yemenite bean soup, with a few Philly-centric items like cheesesteaks (chicken for kosher purposes) thrown into the mix.

For the most part, though, what Promised Land does best is street food, the kind of snacks available in Israeli storefronts on a quick-grab basis. If a kebab sandwich to go is slightly more unwieldy than, say, a corndog, its fresh, honest flavors almost always justify the pita breakage and salad drippings. Still, it is suggested that you take a cue from the Israeli people and eat your snack standing up rather than attempt the one-handed cruise down Route 1. Even better, The Promised Land offers plenty of seating.

I would argue that if the pita does indeed break, you know you are in an authentic place: The thick, buttery, chewy breads calling themselves pita these days should be distrusted. Pita is, more than bread, a utensil for dipping and scooping and containing. Promised Land has the real deal and a number of salads that allow you to use it to its full potential. Salads can be ordered separately in small or large portions or mixed and matched in combination platters.

Those who enjoy their hummus with substantial texture will find sanctuary at Promised Land, where it is neither watered down nor processed into oblivion, but instead allowed its own garlicky girth. This is one of the better versions I've had in the greater Philly area, and I'm anxious to get more.

In a Moroccan-style salad, ridged slices of carrot are boiled and served cold with lemon juice and cilantro, with their natural sweetness serving as the dominant flavor. Stronger and heartier is matbucha, densely stewed tomatoes embedded with slices of jalapeño peppers. This was spicy but rich and on bread it became a kind of bruschetta with teeth. Eggplant, the darling of Middle Eastern cooking, is at the center of three salads on the menu. I liked the givataim, in which the eggplant is roasted until the flesh becomes soft and the skin turns papery. The resulting smoky flavor is then complemented by garlic, parsley, olive oil and vinegar. It's a simple dish that allows its basic elements to be themselves.

One of the biggest highlights among Promised Land's offerings is the turkey shawarma. Rotating and spit-roasting is, next to deep frying, just about the best possible preparation for the oversize fowl, rendering it so tender and juicy that it would likely be unrecognizable to early Puritan feasters. The thin slices of meat, marinated in yogurt and tinged with cumin, are tucked into a pita pocket with cool Israeli salad (small cubes of peppers, tomatoes, green onions, radishes and cucumbers) and another dollop of that lovely hummus.

Falafel -- fried balls of mashed chickpeas -- is the most familiar of Israeli exports, and the reason (thanks to prepackaged mix) that so many people can withstand vegetarianism. It may also be the reason most people visit Promised Land, which was formerly known as Falafel Kingdom. Eschewing the golf-ball school of patty-making, Promised Land's are closer to the size of chestnuts and have the slightly green hue of hot olive oil. The hard outer crust of the fritter gives way to its soft but not greasy center. In Israel, the highlight of eating falafel is being able to choose from a number of pungent and spicy salad and sauce toppings and I was disappointed that, as with most falafel places in the city, there was no fixings bar for indulging in pita overload. But Promised Land does thoughtfully stuff tahini dressing and pickled vegetables into the sandwich, which is good enough.

There are a handful of places to get Israeli food in Center City, but The Promised Land easily trumps them all, making it worth the trip. Besides, the added mileage adds to the Old Testament feel, enough that arriving at a plate of golden, crisp falafel can feel like a pilgrimage.

The Promised Land

9846 Bustleton Ave., 215-969-7545

Appetizers, $3-$6; entrees, $13-$17

Sun.-Thu., 11 a.m.-10 p.m.; Fri., 11 a.m.­3 p.m.

Wheelchair accessible. Smoking is not permitted. Reservations not accepted. All major credit cards.