Hoffman Wine Bar, Rishon LeZion/Hoffman
Rishon Lezion Lane's mythological connection goes very far back, of course, to the days when everyone's local adventures here included stories - fascinating in the present and funny in retrospect - about singers and songstresses.
The cornerstone for the establishment of Carmel Mizrahi Winery, which is also the first winery in the Land of Israel, was laid within the territory of the colony as early as 1889, with the encouragement of Baron de Rothschild, and with the help of his determined emissaries from France.
The vines are also proudly woven into the city's symbol, and its branding as the "wine city" still holds.
just ask
Many decades later, the branding does remain, but it is mostly the result of an effective marketing move and less of, well, a city with wine.
Driving at the permitted speed and looking at the right corner will bring you, for example, to a sign announcing an ancient Byzantine gate, but its surroundings have succumbed to neglect, and today mainly show locked gates, knowledge barriers, heritage barriers, city barriers.
The same goes for the famous red buildings in which the Carmel Mizrahi winery was located - some of them an unguarded conservation site at the corner of Herzl and Carmel streets (of course), some of them a slightly gloomy museum space and some of them, of course, in almost constant danger of modern real estate plans, plowing for nothing.
But now there's Hoffman, because torchfire sometimes burns with small candles.
the most correct.
Hoffman/Gil Aviram
Retam Lev Ari's dream of her own wine bar has been bubbling for twenty years, branching and twisting and almost gliding, until the well-known intersection of "now or never".
Up to now.
Its fulfillment, in the most symbolic and correct way possible, takes place no more than a five-minute drive from that winery, but Carmel Mizrahi did not finish their historical role in this.
They emerge from the shelves with a charming tray that jumps out at you with its vintageness, bringing her back to her personal youthful years in the city ("I clearly remember walking down the street and the smell of grapes, of wine, accompanying me") and almost protect her and Hoffman, her maiden name.
Protecting and liberating, although it doesn't seem like she needs protection, and certainly not liberation.
The day after, and the nights that are still ahead of us
The lighthouse of the flea market shines, still shines
To the full article
Be part of.
Hoffman/Walla! System, Yaniv Granot
Hoffman is a small, neighborhood wine bar, intimate in the old sense of the word and above all very gentle.
A small interior space that knows how to do it all - wine racks for sale on the right, a small armchair in front, a few high chairs on the left - and a small street where it flows with all these, the bottles and chairs, the glasses and pourers.
Between these and these, a design that is almost no design dominates, the kind that is very difficult to design (just ask her how long it took her, an experienced graphic designer like her, to reach the final version of the inscription "Hoffman" on the glass).
White walls, a lonely and magnetic picture on the wall, warm orange bulbs and colorful labels that make a glass exchange party from all sides.
On the side, right at the entrance, a photo board is waiting for your photos.
"The Polaroid is working, if you like," she invites.
We have countless places that force you to stare at the pictures of their people.
There aren't enough places, if any, that ask those who come if they want to be a part.
next to the wine
Hoffman/Walla! System, Yaniv Granot
"It's a field that is driven by a lot of posturing, and I'm just trying to break it down. You can argue about wine for years, but in the end it's all a matter of whether it tastes good or not."
The place opens at 12:00 as a wine shop for everything, and continues until midnight as a wine shop with an ideal added value - which is selection and opening and pouring almost in the same movement.
Lev Ari, who studied the field at the WSET (Wine & Spirit Education Trust) in London and drank the field wherever possible, knew what she wanted.
"To bring interesting things" and not to compromise on the 2 in 150, as she defined it, to explore and explore and in no way to educate.
"It's very pretentious in my opinion, and a bit arrogant," she explained, "I'm just striving to open people's minds a little. It's a field that prevents a lot of posturing, and I'm just trying to break it down. You can argue about wine for years, but in the end, it's all a matter of taste or not tasty".
The prices, accordingly, vary on the hot seam whose purpose is value for money.
Accessible, friendly, with a sweeping recommendation from the landlady to go for a bottle, and at most to take it home afterwards.
"I'm a little more expensive than a normal store and much cheaper than a bar," she described, "I think this is the right place and the right direction."
choose, open, pour.
Hoffman/Gil Aviram
These trays, with wine, are not a "that's all you need" cliché.
They are just what you need
She agreed to extend her passion for wine to just one spritz of Aperol ("only for those who don't drink wine, and that too because it's also like a wine-based cocktail in essence") and to a red and wintry sangria, spicy and sweet only on the edges, and all of these are accompanied by a food menu that is not a menu and barely Food, but at the same time exactly the food menu that this place requires.
It is a triangle of trays-plates whose edges meet and speak to each other in the same language - one slices cheeses of course, Brie and Camembert and also Barkanit's St. Mor, for example, and adds to them Sherry Home Maid tomato jam.
The second one cuts charcuterie, Italian pastrami, goose breast, salami, corned beef and brazoula and mixes mustard and chives.
And the third settles in between with smoked and pickled fish, crème fraîche and a set of batters that makes you wonder where to start.
The answer, as usual in these cases, is another small basket, of bread of course, a knife that spreads and cuts and carries over the slice, then goes for another round to pile more flavors, and mouth.
These, with wine, are not a "that's all it takes" cliché.
They are just what you need.
"I have no interest in messing with the kitchen here, and as far as I'm concerned they should order Volt and eat with their bottle," she emphasized.
I think she's joking, but she's serious.
And maybe, actually, it's the other way around.
She's the one laughing and I'm too serious.
The ideal wine date.
Hoffman/Walla! System, Yaniv Granot
A little of this and a little of that.
Hoffman/Walla! System, Yaniv Granot
"I signed the contract five days into the war. I signed and became paralyzed"
45-year-old Lev Ari lives across the street with her three children, in what must be a rather challenging walk on the precipice of balancing personal life and work life.
She opens doors in the morning and closes them in the evening, writes prices on bottles that arrived today and writes on the green board what is opened for glasses.
Host and guide, advises and suggests, and also, I tend to think despite the short acquaintance with her, happy.
"I signed the contract five days into the war," she repeated, "I signed and went into paralysis. I didn't do anything for three weeks. It seemed really idiotic to me to bother with this, to talk to people over wine. But when I came to my senses, I felt that people were just waiting for this. All my conversations opened With a disclaimer, but they actually told me the opposite, that it's fun to talk about such things again, and that we can start."
the bridge.
Lev Ari/Gil Aviram
And so, it did begin.
A month of activity in the center of Rishon Lezion, a few meters from the more bland Rothschild Street, and she is still trying to decipher her guests, her neighbors, her inspectors.
There are tables of 21-year-olds here as well as older groups, Friday morning parliaments and the date she remembers best - grandfather, granddaughter and a bottle of wine.
She tells about them with natural excitement because how could it be otherwise, and while it's happening, you imagine vines and vines, the smell of grapes returning to the air and someone who manages to be the natural bridge between the grandfather's generation and the granddaughter's generation, with a stop in the middle, hers.
Rishon LeZion, once again the city of wine.
Hoffman, Sheda 12, Rishon Lezion
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