FOOD

Five Street Foods Worth Standing Up For

From sabich to bao buns, these five spots prove Tel Aviv does street food best

Sahar Axel
|
4 min read
Photo: Roded Shlomo Pikiwiki Israel
Photo: Roded Shlomo Pikiwiki Israel

After a decade in Tel Aviv, I left five years ago to pursue a new life, one far from the humidity of the city. Being a foodie, my travels led me to Mexico City street vendors and French bakeries. You can say a lot about the realities of living in Israel, the camaraderie and the divide alike, but what remains undeniable to me is that Tel Aviv is home to the best food in the world, and places like Rome or New York do not hold a torch to a messy pita eaten standing up.

I’ve compiled a list from my memories of life in the Mediterranean capital, as well as late-night conversations with other foodie friends, arguing about the very best of the best. Before you is a carefully curated list of the best street food in Tel Aviv, from off-the-grid gems to cultural staples. Here are my top five:

Sabich Frishman

The classic sabich spot has several branches across Tel Aviv–Jaffa, but the most famous, and by far the busiest, is the branch on Dizengoff Street. The original Sabich Frishman is located on the corner of Dizengoff and Frishman and has been serving hungry customers for over 20 years.

They say Israelis don’t like to queue, a common misconception I’d strongly recommend correcting by standing in the long line that regularly stretches down the Dizengoff sidewalk. I’ve spent many late nights and more than a few hungover noons waiting for that heavenly combination of fried eggplant, hard-boiled egg, and potato, all packed into the softest, fluffiest warm pita. Worth every minute of the wait.

📍 Frishman St 42, Tel Aviv-Yafo

Dilek’s 

Tucked away on the edge of Hatikva Market, Dilek’s has quietly become a destination for one very specific craving: בורקס המים (bore-kas ha-ma-im), Turkish-style water burekas that are crisp on the outside, and tender on the inside.

Behind the counter is Dilek Bagci, who set out to bring the flavors she remembered and loved from Turkey to Tel Aviv. Before opening the shop, Dilek worked in housekeeping, regularly making burekas in the homes where she was employed. What started as something informal slowly turned into an experimental career change, a tiny kitchen with a window facing the street, barely more than a hole in the wall.

Since then, a lot has changed. The burekas became a hit, the operation expanded into the neighboring space, and today, at almost any hour, Dilek’s is packed with devoted fans.

📍 Hagana Rd 33, Tel Aviv-Yafo

Sherry Herring

A staple of my teenage years in Tel Aviv, the strong flavors of Sherry Herring always reminded me of childhood afternoons at my grandmother’s house and unknowingly prepared me for the world of pickled fish I would later encounter in Stockholm.

One of the most iconic stands in Shuk HaNamal is the herring sandwich stall run by Sherry Anski. Her generously built sandwiches are based on high-quality herring, or other cured fish, layered onto rye bread or a baguette spread with yellow butter or old-school sour cream. Add to that a squeeze of cherry tomato and a touch of hot chili, and you get something rich, salty, sharp, and nostalgic.

People come from all over the world just to try this sandwich, often paired with a frozen shot of vodka, optional but highly encouraged.

📍 Shuk HaNamal, Tel Aviv

Bao Buns 

Neve Sha’anan and the area around Tel Aviv’s Central Bus Station are places many Israelis tend to avoid. But they also happen to be home to one of the city’s most interesting street food scenes: small, unassuming restaurants, Asian grocery stores stocked with hard-to-find ingredients, and food stalls whose smells feel closer to Bangkok than Dizengoff.

Tucked into this dense, often overlooked neighborhood is Bao Buns, a modest Chinese spot that has been around for over fifteen years and gone through more than one incarnation. Today, the place is run by three Filipino women, while the kitchen remains Chinese.

The bao themselves are soft, steamed, and generously filled, served without any fusion tricks. The food in this often overlooked area is shaped by the immigrant communities that define South Tel Aviv.

📍 Neve Sha’anan 24, Tel Aviv

Panda Pita

No street food list would be complete without an entry from Shuk HaCarmel. Much was debated, between me, myself, and I, about which market eatery deserves the spotlight, but in the end, no bite comes close to the perfection of Panda Pita.

The pita here is steamed until impossibly soft, then filled with carefully balanced, often unexpected combinations like beet chutney, fish ceviche, or lamb chops.

In a market full of great options, Panda Pita still manages to stand out, and their perfect deconstructed chicken sandwich may or may not make you cry with joy.

📍 Carmel Market, Tel Aviv

 

 

About the Author

Sahar Axel is a writer and Hebrew teacher at Citizen Café. A former mental health professional, she has been solo backpacking since late 2021 and is passionate about storytelling, spirituality, and the Beatles’ discography. Wherever she goes, her Light blue ukulele is never far behind.

Sahar Axel

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Hebrew Nugget:

Five Street Foods Worth Standing Up For

The past year has been an emotional rollercoaster – moving from the shock, pain, and sadness of unimaginable events to the moments of hope we felt with each hostage coming home, each family reunited, and every soldier returning safely. Alongside this, we’ve found countless reasons to be grateful – for the incredible outpouring of support from civilians, and for the things we still hold dear, like our families, our partners, and our community. But these feelings are always mixed with the ache and despair that everyone in Israel still carries, even now.
I’d say the best way to describe how everyone around me is feeling is רגשות מעורבים (reh-gah-shoht meh-oh-rah-veem), which means “mixed emotions.” רגש (reh-gehsh) means “an emotion” in singular, but in plural, רגשות, it might sound feminine with the “OHT” ending. But here’s the catch: this doesn’t change the gender of the noun or the adjective that follows, which still matches the singular form. So, it’s מעורבים and not מעורבות. It’s just one of those quirks of Hebrew that’s tricky to explain.