Through the contrivance of some trickster deity -
Loki, perhaps - the various ultra-conservative Jewish sects that have ended
their wanderings in Williamsburg now find themselves crowded in by
youngish hordes of post-modernists with whom they share absolutely no
philosophical common ground. This leads to some understandable
friction; some of the more easily-agitated Hasidic community leaders
have staged actual protests against the intrusion of morally rudderless
artist'n, whereas the hipsters themselves continue to insist on
behaving as if they lived in the cultural capital of some sort of 21st
century pluralistic democracy.
But skirmishes are few and
far between, and freelance design artists are generally more than
welcome in Williamsburg's deepest nodes of old-school Jewery, provided
that they keep the anti-patriarchal quietism to a minimum. Refrain from
engaging in unnecessary displays of lesbianism, for instance, and
consider wearing a nice button-down shirt instead of whatever nonsense
you were planning to wear. Now you're ready to dine among the Hasidim.
Good job.
The neighborhood surrounding Lee Avenue and
Williamsburg has plenty to offer in the way of Jew food. At that very
intersection, for instance, you can get some quick knishes and kugel
from the Sub on Wheels, which may be found here from 6 pm to midnight
each evening. Prompted by theological opposition to snacking, old
Hasidic men often try to run off the customers; if you've ever wanted
to be run off by an old Hasidic man, this is your chance.
More likely, you want to sit down and eat, in which case you've got
several good options. Grill on Lee (108 Lee Avenue), while bearing the
name and exterior of every yuppie-targeted cafe from the '90s on, is a
sedate little spot with a couple of tables and a single mysterious
Hebraic poster as its only decor. Here may be obtained every variant on
the lox and bagel as well as cream of zucchini soup, fried and breaded
flounder, salmon salami sandwiches, and dairy-absent cheese cake. Also
on hand is tilapia, available in both the fried and grilled varieties;
as was written by Rabbi Zoe Klein a few years back in more or less
poetic format:
All of a sudden
Everyone is serving tilapia, Any time that happens in the market,
It is because another
Commercially valued fish species
Has been nearly wiped out,
The stocks depleted
If that's really the case, Grill on Lee has done a fine job with the
fish of last resort. But Rabbi Klein is clearly Reform, and her
revisionist liberalism may be disregarded for our purposes.
The local bakeries are worth checking out, too. These don't offer
anything particularly exotic; ingredient ratios aren't determined by
reference to gerematria or anything like that, and there are no secret
Jewish baked goods on hand, or at any rate they're kept out of view.
But everything that a Hasidic bakery does, it seems to do well - that
which should be firm is generally firm and that which should be fluffy
is usually fluffy. Kaff Bake Shop (73 Lee) offers one of the
neighborhood's larger selections, and there are dozens of others to be
found nearby.
There are, however, several traditional Hasidic pastries available at Glaubers (165 Division), which advertises itself as
an "appetizing cafe," although it's difficult to tell; a baba ghanoush
sandwich obtained therein included almost no baba ghanoush, which is a
real problem for a baba ghanoush sandwich. It's very possible that the
deli fellow simply forgot to put the stuff on the sandwich. This
probably doesn't happen very often and thus shouldn't worry the potential patron. Anyway, the place serves baba
ghanoush sandwiches, or attempts to.
More visibly popular among the local lunchtime crowd is the Old
Williamsburg Cafe (45 Lee Avenue), which has existed for over half a
century under various menus and monikers. In addition to several sorts
of "commercially valued fish species" prepared in reasonably
traditional fashion, the cafeteria-style joint offers an improbably
with-it range of sushi rolls and a nice little selection of oven-baked
pizza to boot.
But the most well-regarded of local
haunts among both neighborhood dwellers and visitors alike is the
superbly authentic Gottlieb's (352 Roebling), which has been around for
some great length of time and which has long been depended upon for
such things as fried kishka, chopped liver sandwiches, and spicy
goulash. Sadly, the place is undergoing a renovation as of this
writing, but will no doubt be up and running by the time you get around
to actually checking it out.
Seriously, though, dress nicely. The Hasidim really have a point on that one.