Zahav

I don't mean to be petty, but my hackles were kind of raised by a blurb on the Philadelphia restaurant Zahav in Food & Wine this month. The relevant passages follow:

Other than stellar hummus, I didn't know what to expect from a restaurant calling its food modern Israeli. . . . My favorite was the cauliflower florets, fried until sweet and caramelized. Crisp enough to pick up with your fingers, they're a terrific bar snack, served over a pool of tangy, dill-flecked, lebneh for dipping. . . . I was a bit squeamish about trying the kibbe naye, made with raw ground lamb, but after tasting the allspice seasoned meat scooped into crunchy romaine lettuce hearts, I changed my mind. I left Zahav more informed about Israeli food - and delighted with what I'd learned.

In case what is wrong with this passage isn't obvious, let's give a hypothetical French restaurant the same treatment.

Other than stellar pasta, I didn't know what to expect from a restaurant calling its food modern French . . . My favorite was the veal meatballs, fried until caramelized, crisp enough to pick up with your fingers, they're a terrific bar snack, served over a pool of tangy, thyme flecked, gorgonzola. . . I was a bit squeamish about trying the proscuitto crudo, but after tasting delicate flavor of the pork arranged with melon, I changed my mind. I left the restaurant more informed about French food - and delighted with that I'd learned.