The service was stylish, the menu superb, the vibe effortlessly chic. This was the Coal Office, one of London’s best Israeli restaurants, situated in the old Victorian goods yard at King’s Cross. My fiancée and I dined there last week. It was a blast. But something didn’t feel right.
Fish and chips was invented by an Ashkenazi Jew, and we all like a good kedgeree or a korma, yet British food is no fiction
In many ways, you couldn’t find a more Israeli establishment. Weeks earlier, In Jerusalem, I had taken my children to the Coal Office’s sister restaurant, Machneyuda. The same type of stuff was on the plate: Sephardi spices, chickpeas and aubergines, matched with Ashkenazi bread and fish. The atmosphere was similar, too. In Israel, the maître d’ had argued over my booking; in London, I rowed with the chef, who then apologised for being ‘too Israeli’. Conciliatory shots of arak were doled out both times. As
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