There’s an extremely tiny minority of individuals that don’t look forward to a weekend brunch. Thankfully most of us DO, and after a long night out with friends, Friday morning (in Israel, Friday is the rest of humanity’s version of Saturday) is much anticipated. The smell of burning butter and the sizzle as whipped eggs make a debut on the pan floor, the self-appreciative gurgle of the coffee maker, “chop-chop” as vegetables turn into a salad (Israeli’s call it Israeli Salad, the Arabs calls it Arabian Salad, I call it the Gourary Salad – chopped cucumbers, ciboulette, paprika, carrots, yellow and red tomatoes, mint, coriandre, and salt+pepper, with a honey mustard vinaigrette), and a Schubert Impromptu trills through the extremely late morning sunshine even as laughs resound over just-remembered stories from the previous evening. It’s low 20s Celsius, blue skies, t-shirts, thin button-downs, jeans, and brunch is ready to be served in the studio-loft of Tel Aviv’s architecture duo AN+. Bon Appétit For those interested, I intend on returning, if only to conduct a city-wide comparative survey on the best Shakshoukas, yet another breakfast winner.