You walk into Café Rilindja on Arthur Avenue at 11am on a match day and the espresso machine is already drowned out by commentary streaming from a laptop balanced on the bar. The owner's nephew adjusts the projector aimed at the back wall while his uncle argues in Albanian with a regular about whether Switzerland's midfield can handle Brazil's press. This is Belmont during World Cup summer 2026, where the neighborhood's Albanian community transforms a handful of cafes into raucous viewing parties that smell like butter and phyllo dough. Forty minutes south in Midwood, Brooklyn's Israeli enclaves do the same thing with different pastries and different languages layered over the same game.
The Morning Ritual Before Kickoff
The Albanian spots open early but they shift into World Cup mode around 10am when the first trays of byrek come out. At Rilindja, the spinach and cheese versions sell out by noon on game days, so the regulars who've been coming here since the place opened in 2018 know to call ahead. You can reserve a whole tray for $45 if your group is six or more. The owner, Agron, keeps a handwritten list taped inside the kitchen door with match times and estimated crowd sizes—he learned during the 2022 tournament that he needed three times his usual byrek supply when a Balkan team played. The cafe technically seats twenty-eight but during big matches they squeeze in forty by pulling out folding chairs stored in the back office. Get there ninety minutes before kickoff if you want a seat with a clear sightline to the screen.
Burek Economics and Betting Pools
Two blocks over on 187th Street, Dardania Bakery runs a different operation. They're primarily a take-out spot with a counter and three small tables, but during the World Cup they set up a folding table outside with a cash box and a handwritten menu board. The meat burek here is better than Rilindja's—flakier pastry, more seasoned filling—and they price it at $4.50 per piece or three for $12. The owner's daughter, who handles the register during tournaments, runs an informal betting pool where you throw in $20 and pick three scores for the day's matches. She keeps the money in a shoebox under the counter and pays out in cash at 6pm. The neighborhood cops know about it and don't care. You'll see them buying burek during their breaks, sometimes joining the pool themselves.
Midwood's Sabich Situation at Noon
The Israeli corner of this story centers on King's Highway between East 15th and Ocean Avenue, where three separate places serve sabich—the Iraqi-Israeli sandwich of fried eggplant, hard-boiled egg, and tahini in pita. Taim Tov, the smallest of the three, has a TV mounted in the corner that's usually tuned to Israeli news channels, but during the World Cup it's all soccer. The owner, Yossi, played semi-professionally in Tel Aviv before moving to Brooklyn in 2019, and he provides running commentary in Hebrew-accented English while assembling sandwiches. His sabich comes with a spicy mango pickle that's not on the menu—you have to ask for it specifically, and he'll charge you an extra dollar but it's worth it. The sandwich itself runs $11, and on match days they offer a combo with fries and a can of soda for $16. The place fills up with a mix of Israeli expats, Russian-speaking Jews from the surrounding blocks, and younger Brooklynites who've discovered that this is the best place to watch a match while eating something that isn't wings or nachos.
The Language Layers at Halftime
What makes both neighborhoods strange and compelling during World Cup season is the linguistic chaos. At Rilindja you hear Albanian, Italian from the old-guard Arthur Avenue locals who wander in, Spanish from the Bronx at large, and English in various accents. At Taim Tov it's Hebrew, Russian, Yiddish from the Hasidic guys who stop in (they don't stay for the games but they buy the food), and English. The commentary might be in Spanish on one screen and English on another. Someone's streaming a match on their phone with Arabic commentary. Halftime is when everyone compares notes, argues about calls, and orders more food. This is when the kitchens get slammed—Agron's wife and sister-in-law work the byrek station at Rilindja during tournaments, cranking out trays as fast as the oven allows. At Taim Tov, Yossi's cousin flies in from Israel for the World Cup month and works the falafel fryer, which runs continuously from 11am to 9pm on match days.
The Shawarma Strategy for Evening Matches
When matches run into evening hours, the Midwood crowd shifts to shawarma. Mizrahi Grill, two blocks from Taim Tov, has a larger space with better seating and a bigger screen. Their lamb shawarma plate costs $18 and comes with enough rice, salad, and hummus to split between two people if you're not starving. The trick here is to sit at the counter facing the kitchen rather than at the tables—you're closer to the screen and the owner, David, keeps a bottle of homemade arak behind the register that he pours for regulars during tense matches. You won't see it on any menu and he won't offer it unless he knows you, but if you've been coming around and you ask politely during a quarterfinal, he might pour you a small glass. The arak is strong and tastes like licorice and bad decisions, but it's part of the ritual.
When Albania Actually Plays
The Albanian cafes in Belmont lose their minds when Albania qualifies and plays in the tournament. During the 2022 World Cup they didn't make it, so the neighborhood split allegiances between Switzerland (large Albanian population) and various Balkan teams. But if Albania plays in 2026, Rilindja will be standing-room-only, and they'll set up a second screen outside with speakers loud enough to bother the Italian restaurants down the block. Agron's planning to close the cafe to anyone who isn't Albanian or a regular for those specific matches—he learned from Euro 2016 that he needs to control the crowd or it gets chaotic. The NYPD will probably send a patrol car to sit outside, not because there's trouble but because a hundred people screaming in Albanian at 3pm makes the neighbors nervous. If you want in and you're not Albanian, your best bet is to befriend someone who is and arrive with them. Bring cash for drinks and food, and don't expect table service.
Practical Notes
Café Rilindja (622 Arthur Avenue) opens at 9am daily, closing around 8pm, but during World Cup matches they stay open until the final whistle plus an hour. Cash only, no reservations except for byrek trays. Take the B or D train to Fordham Road, then walk ten minutes. Dardania Bakery (427 East 187th Street) keeps similar hours. In Midwood, Taim Tov (1418 King's Highway) opens at 11am, closes at 9pm Sunday through Thursday, 10pm Friday, and is closed Saturday for Shabbat. Mizrahi Grill (1609 King's Highway) runs later, until 11pm most nights. Both take cards. The F train to Avenue I puts you in the middle of the action. During the actual World Cup tournament, expect all these places to be packed for any match involving a European or Middle Eastern team. Show up early, bring cash as backup, and don't expect quick service during play.
Tags: #WorldCup2026 #BelmontBronx #MidwoodBrooklyn #AlbanianFood #IsraeliFood #ArthurAvenue #KingsHighway #NYCNeighborhoods #SoccerCulture #Byrek #Sabich #HiddenNYC #EthnicEnclaves #BronxEats #BrooklynFood
Sources consulted: fifa.com · espn.com · timeout.com
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