A Market-Inspired Symphony: Chef Nadav Greenberg on Fresh Ingredients and Culinary Passion

In the vibrant streets of New York City, where cultures collide and every day is a new canvas for culinary exploration, Chef Nadav Greenberg finds his rhythm. Head Chef of Shmoné and recipient of a prestigious Michelin star, Nadav's story is one that bridges his upbringing in Jerusalem to the celebrated kitchens of New York. On the morning of our interview, I join him virtually on one of his daily market trips, witnessing firsthand how a love for fresh ingredients and an instinct for spontaneity become the foundation of Shmoné's renowned culinary excellence.

"Growing up in Jerusalem, food wasn't just sustenance; it was a way of bringing people together," Nadav recalls, his voice tinged with nostalgia. He speaks of his Moroccan grandmother and her passion for food, the smoky scent of charred eggplants and garlic, the fiery kick of spices—all of which influenced the DNA of his culinary journey. "Every Friday, we would sit for hours around the table, savoring flavors that represented not just our family, but generations of culture." These formative experiences shaped Nadav's palate and have found their way into the heart of Shmoné's dishes.

The journey to Shmoné was winding but purposeful. Nadav began by opening a late-night bar in Jerusalem with friends, a venture that eventually led him to the bright lights of New York City in 2018, reuniting with the culinary innovators at Miznon North. In 2022, Shmoné opened its doors, and a year later, the restaurant earned a Michelin star—a remarkable achievement that reflects Nadav's dedication to excellence.

"Every morning, I ride my bike to the market," Nadav tells me, a bit of city noise faintly echoing in the background. "I touch, I smell, I talk to the vendors." It’s clear that the market is more than just a place to buy ingredients; it’s a source of inspiration, a place where creativity blooms. He visits the stalls early, well before the crowds, exchanging words with a trusted vendor who offers "secret things inside his truck" that Nadav treasures.

"I think of the market as my muse," he says, with genuine warmth. "When I’m feeling uninspired, the colors of spring vegetables—the green garlic, the fresh herbs—they reset my creativity." He emphasizes the role of nature in defining each day’s menu: "It’s not really me who writes the menu; it’s the market. Whatever shines the brightest, whatever feels right—that becomes the inspiration for the night’s service."

The concept of daily reinvention carries its challenges, particularly in a Michelin-starred kitchen where consistency is key. But for Nadav, consistency is not about replicating the exact same flavor profile every day. Instead, it’s about respecting the inherent differences in ingredients. "The sun, the soil, the water—they all change," he notes thoughtfully. "You can’t force an eggplant to taste the same today as yesterday. The consistency is in making sure it’s always good—acidity or sweetness might shift, but it’s the quality that stays constant." His approach isn’t about forcing nature to obey, but about embracing its nuances and letting them guide the creative process.

Shmoné operates with an open kitchen concept, a setup that Nadav likens to improvisational theater. "It’s a show—the guests can see everything," he says, describing the energy that fuels his team. "When I walk in, I take my position to the side and just start playing with the ingredients. We all get into this rhythm together. It’s almost like a dance, and there’s an excitement in that." Working with his prep team, Nadav introduces a new dish with casual confidence, showing it to his cooks, filming a quick video, and tasting every part before it reaches the guests.

"We smile, we perform, we’re on stage," Nadav laughs. "The open kitchen has its challenges—there’s no hiding if something goes wrong—but it’s also immediate. The moment a guest takes a bite, you see it on their face. It’s gratifying to create something spontaneous, something fleeting that resonates in real time." He pauses to reflect, acknowledging the effort it takes: "We do it not for the pain in our backs or the exhaustion, but for those moments of connection."

Nadav credits much of his culinary philosophy to the mentorship of Eyal Shani, an iconic figure in Israeli cuisine. "He gave me the confidence to be not just a chef, but a creator," Nadav shares. "Working with him was like suddenly finding all the pieces of a puzzle you didn’t know you were missing."

Jerusalem itself—its blend of cultures, histories, and cuisines—is another central influence. Nadav describes the "Israeli melting pot," the blend of his Ashkenazi and Moroccan heritage, as a constant source of ideas. "I took my grandmother’s chicken liver and made it something elevated, using better ingredients, better tools. It’s not that I cook better than she did; she was incredible. I just have the advantage of technology and the luxury of choosing my ingredients. It’s still her recipe at its core, but polished in a way that honors her."

Sustainability is more than a buzzword for Nadav—it’s a philosophy rooted in respect. "I don’t buy the term as a trend," he says candidly. "It’s about respecting every ingredient. I have a different vendor for nearly everything—the octopus, the shrimp, the vegetables. They all come with a story, and knowing that story, knowing where everything comes from, means I can respect it fully."

He talks of a family in Maine that catches shrimp for Shmoné every Wednesday, of a farmer with a small plot growing heritage tomatoes—relationships that give his ingredients depth. "I want my guests to experience that respect. It’s not about the flash or the status. It’s about the pride behind every bite." Nadav is adamant about this point, and it resonates deeply—sustainability at Shmoné isn’t a checklist of practices; it’s a commitment to treating the earth, the ingredients, and the people around him with care.

As our conversation wraps up, Nadav invites me—and the readers—to visit Shmoné, to sit at the bar and be a part of the experience. "It’s homey, it’s intimate," he says warmly. "It’s not just about eating; it’s about feeling welcomed. Many of our guests have become family. When my second child was born, they brought gifts—they knew, they cared." Shmoné, in his eyes, isn’t just a restaurant; it’s a living expression of his journey, a space where culture, respect, and the beauty of the everyday ingredient come together to create something magical.