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Food coverage is supported by a generous donation from Susan and Moses Libitzky.

The next day, all I could think about was the sound of the meat.

Brisket isn’t usually noisy. But then again, I’ve never witnessed someone use his bare hands to massage barbecue sauce into smoked, shredded meat like Gili Ben Shahar did last month at Meat Carneval in the East Bay.

As he kneaded the mound of brisket, making sure every strand would soak up the sauce, it almost made a slurping sound.

I’ve also never seen someone push so much marrow out of a bone using only his hands as did Ohad Kvity, Ben Shahar’s partner-in-crime.

As it’s clear from the name, this event was not for the faint of heart — or stomach. Multiple courses required a blowtorch. The next day, my husband and I could only think of superlatives to describe it: “hedonistic,” “gluttonous,” “visceral,” “over the top.” 

When we arrived at Reinstein Ranch in Livermore, we were handed a washcloth to use throughout the night as our napkin. There were no chairs or tables. There were no plates, cutlery or servers, either. Ben Shahar, Kvity or one of their helpers used their hands to place a portion of meat directly into people’s hands. Or, into their mouths.

It goes without saying that Meat Carneval was highly Instagrammable. At $180 per person, it wasn’t cheap. But considering everything it took to put on the event, including all the wine you can drink, I’d say that was reasonable — and worth it for such an experience.

The event was a tasting menu, of sorts. I counted 14 courses, not including the generous spread that was out when we arrived including the pull-apart Yemeni bread called kubaneh, the chunks of roasted sweet potatoes, the multiple dips and sauces including tomato and eggplant. Also on the appetizer menu: panipuri, an Indian street food that consists of a hollow, cracker-like ball with savory fillings. Out of place here? Maybe. Did it matter? Not at all.

Mostly, Meat Carneval was a show — and the stars were Kvity and Ben Shahar. They were charming, funny and made an effort to connect with their guests.

Bone marrow was a star ingredient of the night, with people tossing out phrases like, “You had me at the bone marrow.”

We watched as Kvity reached into a 20-pound halibut while dubbing himself a “fish chiropractor.” And we gasped as Ben Shahar poured a pan of steaming beef tallow — rendered fat — over a dish of meat. He said the meat might be too dry otherwise, but of course this just added to the night’s over-the-topness.

Along with the cuts of meat (too many to track), there was monkey bread stuffed with meat and several raw fish dishes. There were also thinly sliced beets and charred broccoli stems — again with the blowtorch — to make sure the vegetarians didn’t feel completely left out (though this event probably isn’t for anyone who is vegetarian for ideological reasons). 

“My friend who told me about it experienced it in Israel and was counting the days until they’d come here,” said one guest, Lior Kruh. The friend, a fellow Israeli living in Silicon Valley, had described it as a “once-in-a-lifetime” experience.

Yet that friend, Ofir Luzon, came to Livermore — making it a twice-in-a-lifetime event.

One couple, who lives in Texas and attended an Austin version of the event earlier this year, flew to the Bay Area especially to take part again.

Another guest had experienced Meat Carneval for the first time through an Israeli friend, in a private home in Sunnyvale back in 2021. She’d been waiting ever since to come back. This time, she brought friends.

“They create an experience you can’t have at a restaurant, and only part of it is eating with your hands,” Farhana Mohammed said. Her friend Valenka Periera said she’d been skeptical at first but then added, “Where else can you go where they do this?”

I can’t answer “nowhere” with certainty. But I can say that if such a place exists, I’ve never heard of it.

Itamar Abramovitch, an Israeli caterer in Napa who has been working with Ben Shahar and Kvity since the Austin event in January, kept telling me it was impossible to describe Meat Carneval. He’s pretty much right.

“Tartare in restaurants can often be plated with tweezers,” Kvity explained to the guests, as he mixed a mound of raw beef, of course, with his hands. “We wanted you to get a completely different mood. Everything is supposed to direct you to the experience we want you to have.”

Meat Carneval has become so popular in Israel that when the Kvity and Ben Shahar are home, they host four events a week. They met through a group of men who blogged about fatherhood, and both worked in the food industry. They bonded over their mutual disdain for most restaurants.

“The experience is very bland and pretty much the same every time,” Ben Shahar told me the day after the Livermore event. “It started as a barbecue for our friends, and because we’re chefs, we were explaining the various cuts of meat. But because it was us, it wasn’t a lecture. It was done with jokes. We didn’t plan anything, just improvised.”

When they were asked a few days later when the next event was happening, they realized they were onto something.

“Cut to two years later, and we regularly have a waiting list,” he said. “We were really trying to do nothing according to the regular way, and think outside the box.”

Kvity and Ben Shahar have written two cookbooks and have worked a few Jewish events in the U.S., including an Israel Independence Day event at a Virginia JCC for 2,000 people. There were about 50 guests at the Livermore event the night I attended — lots of Israelis and tech workers — with 110 the next night. 

The two chefs made it clear they love California and have already scheduled more events here.

Dessert was fruit, including watermelon and dragon fruit, cut up and strewn across a runner of butcher paper, surrounded by heaps of whipped cream and scores of doughnut holes drizzled with chocolate sauce. But that wasn’t enough. Large bones with marrow — caramelized with a blowtorch — were placed on and around the fruits and sweets.

“There’s no menu. Nobody knows what we’re going to serve,” Ben Shahar said. “You arrive hungry with comfortable clothes and the spirit for adventure. This is what we ask of our guests. And when they do, we’ve proven we can give them quite an experience.”

The next Bay Area Meat Carneval, set for Aug. 11 and 12, is sold out. Tickets, which cost $180, are available for Oct. 19, 20 and 21. exploretock.com/meatcarneval