Dining Out / Eatery etymology

Chef Guy Peretz, owner of the Moroccan fast-food chain Marrakesh Express, and who has focused more recently on culinary consulting in Israel and in other parts of the world, found time to open a new eatery - the kosher fish and dairy-based restaurant Seven. The name makes sense as Seven is located on the seventh floor of the Alexander Hotel and the menu lists seven of each of the following: tapas, first courses, pasta-based main courses, fish-based main courses and desserts.

The large, spotless dining area boasts white walls, a white ceiling and tables covered with white tablecloths. But despite the large windows and their appealing view, the dining area - with numerous tables set for parties of six, eight or more - lacks any sense of intimacy; the impression one gets is more of a hotel dining room, where one goes to have breakfast or a buffet lunch, not a luxury restaurant. We chose instead to dine on the outdoor roof-top terrace. Set attractively, with couches interspersed between tables and a constant breeze blowing, the setting here is more appealing.

The first thing to make its way to our table was quite tasty freshly baked bread and three dips - the first a good olive oil to which several drops of balsamic vinegar had been added, the second a tempting offering of caramelized garlic cloves and the third a rich red pepper sauce. This was accompanied by refreshing and nicely chilled complimentary cocktails of Campari, which had been mixed with the juice of tropical and citrus fruits.

As an opening course, I opted for the pickled sardines, filleted and lightly pickled in a mixture of what I believe was white wine vinegar and Moroccan-style pickled lemons, served on a small salad of roasted bell peppers, sliced beets, bits of pickled lemon and a light coriander pesto. My companion chose the grey mullet seviche - made of small cubes of the fish tossed with red onion, finely chopped coriander and chili oil, all served alongside thin slices of radish. The menu noted that the dish would be accompanied by artichokes, but there was no sign of those on the plate. Both dishes were acceptable, but neither was exciting.

My own choice as a main course was the fish-and-chips, in this case made with thick chunks of cod fish dipped in a batter of piquant-seasoned flour and milk before being deep fried. Served with the fish, in a separate paper wrapper - much as one finds in many British fish-and-chip joints - were french fries, not of the typical long and narrow variety, but thin slices of freshly cut, peeled, deep-fried and salted potatoes. The fish, perfectly fresh, was firm and flavorful, the coating just crisp enough; both the fish and potatoes were perfect for dipping in the Dijon-mustard flavored aioli sauce.

My companion decided to go the pasta route and was not quite as fortunate. Her ravioli, filled with a mixture of eggplant and ricotta cheese, was tasty enough but not enough sauce - made from sage butter, garlic and white wine - had been spooned over, causing the ravioli to stick together and be far too dry. For dessert we shared a single tiramisu, which was pleasant enough.

As for the service, let's just say it was a bit confused. For example, our waitress brought a bottle of wine to the table and opened it without first showing us the label. As she was pouring, I realized she'd brought the wrong one and she seemed a bit angry with me for asking that it be replaced with the wine we had ordered.

Our food bill came to a reasonable NIS 270. The wine list is not very extensive, but we selected the very pleasant 2008 Sauvignon Blanc from Tabor Winery's Adama series, which added NIS 129 to the bill. All in all, a not entirely successful attempt at upswing mass-market food, primarily for those to whom kashrut is important.

Seven: Hotel Alexander, 3 Havakuk Street, Tel Aviv. Tel: 03-546-6772. Open Sun-Thurs 19:00-24:00. Kosher.

My first impression upon entering Juno, Tel Aviv's latest entry into what I now think of as the "race of the wine bars," was quite positive. Tables nicely set in a mini-garden closed in by planters full of greens, beckoned as did the small but attractive interior, filled with a full wall of shelves of wine and appealing bric-a-brac.

The first thing that went wrong was when, out of genuine curiosity, I asked where the restaurant's name came from and was told that Juno was the wife of Bacchus, the god of wine. Now that's just fine, but the goddess Juno was not married to Bacchus but to her brother, Jupiter; Bacchus was of course married to Ariadne, the daughter of King Minos of Crete. Now that was fair enough - not every wine-bar owner has to know his Greek and Roman mythology.

What was not quite as reasonable was that my plate of assorted salamis was not accompanied by either bread or butter. There is probably not a single wine or tapas bar in all of France, Italy, Spain or Greece where such a plate would be served without bread and butter. When I requested bread I was given a basket of brown bread - precisely the pre-sliced, not-at-all flavorful kind that comes in little plastic bags at the supermarket - and a miniscule portion of herbed butter.

That was only the beginning of my problems, however, for the various salamis - a spicy Palermo salami, a fatty, chunky country-style Italian salami, and a pepperoni salami - although acceptable did not offer much more than anything sold at the nearest Tiv-Taam supermarket. As for the slices of beef and pork shoulder, these had no distinguishable flavor at all. To add a final insult to injury, the small green salad gritted between my teeth as I sampled it, as the lettuce had not been washed well enough.

I went on to an offering of champignon mushrooms, lightly sauteed and topped with triangular wedges of what was said to be Gorgonzola cheese. Although fresh, the mushrooms had not been trimmed carefully, were far too watery and lacked flavor, while the cheese was quite bland. Nor could I find any hint of the balsamic vinegar supposedly sprinkled over the dish.

Considering this is basically a wine bar, where knowledge of wine should be a priority, I was surprised that the majority of wines on the menu had no vintage year listed. When I decided on a glass of the Dogajolo wine, my waitress looked bewildered, saying "Doga-ma?" Because I was ordering by the glass, I asked how long ago the bottle had been opened. Her answer: "Why? Is that important?" I didn't bother to explain that indeed this is important. My food bill came to NIS 78, and glasses of the Dogajolo added NIS 35 each.

Juno: 1 De Haas Street, Kikar Milano, Tel Aviv, 03-544-6620. Sat-Thurs 17:00-01:00; Fri 12:00-01:00.