If New York City was a person, and you were lucky enough to be its best friend, it would be the kind of friend who planned elaborate surprise birthday parties for you and showed up unexpectedly at your house with a Tupperware container of freshly-baked muffins and a six-pack of Norwegian beer. Sadly, that is not the case. New York City still shows its love, however, in the amazing and seemingly endless ethnic and specialty food shops that sit gleaming on forgotten side streets, waiting to be discovered.

Walking down Sullivan street in Soho, hungry to the point of irritability, Anna and I came across Yoghurt Place II. The walls were lined with goodies like fig and apricot cookies, traditional pistachio baklava, spinach and feta pies, and golden, ricotta-stuffed filo pockets. The refrigerator case lining the wall held rows of tzatziki, and thick Greek yogurt which one could order topped with honey or sour cherry preserves and homemade granola. The yogurt, which the owner, Vea Kessissoglou, let us know was made in the original Yoghurt Place in Astoria, Queens, could also be purchased wholesale.

Anna and I left Yoghurt Place II with flaky savory pies in our hands, greek yogurt weighing down our bags, and that knowing smile that every New Yorker gets when they realize New York City has shared a secret with them.

The postscript is, finding this lovely Greek shop made me realize how few places one can discover authentic “Jewish” foods in New York. In Manhattan, Katz’s deli on the Lower East Side is one of the few remaining Jewish delis that serve unadulterated Ashkenazi favorites like matzoh ball soup, pastrami sandwiches, and egg creams. Brooklyn has a few more options, especially in the Midwood/Flatbush sections along Avenue J and Kings Highway. But overall, Eastern European Jewish foods seem to have lost their place in New York City’s ethnic food stew.

Perhaps the face of Jewish food is simply changing, with hummus and sushi replacing tzimmes and gefilte fish. But it made me wistful for a glowing storefront on overlooked New York street corner, beckoning in hungry passersby with the invitation, “come, Essen.”