Adam Erace’s review of Teplitzky’s at the Chelsea in Atlantic City reads like a prototypical one-bell, hit-or-miss review of another reviewer in town. But that’s not to say there aren’t dishes worth doting over.
Two tender matzo balls bob like buoys in the broth. On the shimmering surface, golden droplets of chicken fat-the only way to conjure them is making the stock from scratch, which Murphy admirably does-catch the light like shipwrecked jewelry on gentle Atlantic swells. These magic molecules inform a broth so deep it sends echoes down the esophagus. Now I get why they call this stuff Jewish penicillin. All the single bubbes, put your hands up. I’m available.â€©Â