And a filling of spiced chicken, apricots, almonds in the savory pastry called pastilla brings to mind the cooking of the Sephardic Jews who established themselves around the Mediterranean’s western shores. Zahav makes no overtures about keeping its kitchens kosher, but incorporating the far-flung tastes of the Jewish diaspora into its menu illuminates the breadth of modern Israeli cooking.

Turkish buttered hummus; Salatim

Zahav is Solomonov’s tribute to his homeland. He was born near Tel Aviv and then grew up in Pittsburgh. His family returned to Israel when Solomonov was a teenager, but he soon came back to the States to complete high school. Though he and business partner Steve Cook have triumphed with their growing Federal Doughnuts concept (doughnuts dunked in the fryer to order, plus killer fried chicken for lunch), Solomonov stays close to his roots. In mid-August he’s opening a hummusiya called Dizengoff, and he’s working on a documentary to air on PBS next year called The Search for Israeli Cuisine.

Grill halloumi with dates

With a cookbook also scheduled for next year, Solomonov is poised to be the U.S. equal to Yotam Ottolenghi. The wonderful thing about Zahav, though, is how easily one can disappear into the food’s earthy pleasures without knowing any of the chef’s background or the cuisine’s history.

After scraping the hummus bowl clean with shards of laffa, move on to gratifiers like griddled cubes of halloumi over molten date chutney with wisps of pickled onion and flashes of urfa, a smoky Turkish chile. Sip limonana, a minty lemonade, on its own or as a Jim Beam-fueled cocktail. Take a leap and try the duck hearts angled over a celery puree and matched with amba, a mango pickle. Come with a group and preorder an off-the-menu specialty—lamb shoulder smoked, braised in pomegranate juice, and served with tahdig, the irresistible Persian pilaf in which the rice is cooked to chewy crispness on the bottom. Leftovers are all but guaranteed.

Konafi

The restaurant, perched over a cobblestone street in Philadelphia’s historic Society Hill neighborhood, evokes the Levantine landscape with sandstone walls and limestone tiles but isn’t over-designed. It sets a welcoming mood, an impression reinforced by the hospitable staff. Ten years from now, upscale-ish Middle Eastern restaurants may be a cliche; we may grasp Palestinean fava bean hummus and Lebanese herbed labneh with the same intimacy that we know Neapolitan pizza and Ligurian pesto. But in this watershed moment, when the distinct but tangled flavors of the region’s many cuisines begin distinguishing themselves in our dining culture, we’ll look back at Solomonov’s Israeli breakthrough and say: Zahav was the one that upped the game.

Email Bill at bill@eater.com and follow him at @BillAddison.