Friday, 8:00 A.M., the meat alley in Tel Aviv’s Carmel Market. Yaniv Bar-Nur opens the door of the iron smoker at the end of the street. “It’s sexy,” the butcher-attorney says, gazing hungrily at the clouds of smoke enveloping the crowns of lamb ribs, briskets and golden-brown chickens resting on the inferno’s shelves. The soft rustling of the coals is music to his ears.
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