I first heard about Kibbutz Ein Zivan from my friend Gal, who ran my restaurant in Tel Aviv.
"There is no far and far away from it," she said at the time.
Years passed until I found myself standing at the gates of the easternmost kibbutz in the Golan Heights.
This was when Adi Peretz opened the Materlo bakery.
Very quickly Adi's croissants became a recurring hit, and the intricate sandwiches inside the sublimely flipped French pastry - hysterical.
Little has changed since my last visit, and here I am again.
Burst into its own, getting up every morning long before the rooster considers waking up and finds himself tucked away in his bakery.
Knead, roll, fold and puff many kilograms of butter croissant dough.
Multiplies and triples quantities - but demand is always greater than supply.
"I will always feel uncomfortable with those who wait a long time in line and I have to disappoint," Peretz explains. "Sometimes everything ends on the shelf, and there are quite a few more people waiting."
Materlo, Photo: Adi Peretz
"It's supposed to be a calculated risk," I try to alleviate.
"Anyone who comes to you knows that there is no manufacturing plant that provides you with pastries, and when it's over - it's over."
"I would be happy to be able to feed everyone," he does not excuse, "but as much as I increase equivalence and quantities - it will not be enough."
"I think it makes 'Matterlo' more desirable," I market his product to Adi Peretz, but he has no time to gossip with me and he goes out to take out another round of croissants from the swell chamber directly into the hot ovens.
"I'm even here for the new hummus," I shouted at his receding back.
Adi Peretz, Photo: Materlo
Poetic dialogue in the bakery
"Come, we're going to the Golan Heights," I informed a handful of specially selected friends.
"There is a new hummus shop in Kibbutz Ein Zivan. And there is a winery, actually two, and a small chocolate factory and a crazy bakery."
And here we are such a quartet, hungry for adventure, we showed up at the kibbutz for two particularly culinary days.
It was clear that this morning would be dedicated to "Materlo," my favorite gem in the Golan.
We chose, of course, great sandwiches made from a crispy golden croissant on the outside and soft and yellowish on the inside.
The meticulous folding work is evident on the perfect flip that is revealed with the croissant cut.
And yes, Matterlo's butter croissant is spectacular.
It stays that way even when filled with scrambled eggs, or Camembert and onion jam, or local trout baked and shredded into soft pieces.
So are Adi's sweet pastries, but a little different.
I love this range between being overly meticulous and a loose, casual hand.
Adi's cakes are not binding - he bakes them as he pleases.
Less didactic, less calculated.
This dialogue between the sumptuous and meticulous Viennese breakfast pastries and the almost homemade cakes - is poetic for me.
This is what sets a place apart and gives it the curly and unique signature just for him.
The magic of doing something full of passion
We got the Sabbath just right - tasting wine, distillates and liqueurs.
Ofer Bahat, the winemaker and owner of Bahat Winery, greeted us with his wide smile.
He's a man of people, certainly one of people like us who love wine and alcohol.
We walked with him to the winery's visitor center, and heard the story of the agronomist who dreamed of becoming a winemaker - and fulfilled.
We dined our hearts out in a chunky burger served on the beautiful terrace, in the shade of the vine.
We enjoyed sausages that were neatly roasted and served spicy and full of flavor.
Along with the flagship wines of the young winery, we tasted the liqueurs that Ofer produces with great care: we slid a thick limoncello down our throats, we admired a deep-tasting chocolate liqueur.
But it was the cherry liqueur, for all the stages of its preparation, that captured our hearts.
There is magic in passionate local action, and Ofer Bahat does so when he turns the Golan cherries into a delightful drink.
Classy atmosphere with zero effort
The esteemed winemaker Tal Pelter pours great wines to his audience, and does so in a magical atmosphere that is unparalleled.
This is not a superbly designed visitor center, there is no gram of effort in the "filter".
In the air the words of the song are carried: "Here is what is good and what is pleasant Shabbat brothers," and they play them and hover with each sip.
The sloppy and cozy sitting space is crowded.
Everyone drinks the wine and enjoys the fine cheese plate - also locally made.
The observer from the side has a happy and kind-hearted quartet - why not?
There was no bottle that was not tasted or distillate that was not poured.
The discovery this time was Pelter's training and marvelous "Meter" series.
Our favorite wine in the series: Sauvignon Black Semyon, which made its way home with us, that we will not miss when we return to the city, God forbid.
Pelter Winery, Photo: Yael Ilan
No need to travel to get away
The next Saturday afternoon was devoted in all its glory to the new hummus from the beloved bakery, and this is no easy task in view of the huge demand and the long queue that unfolds before us.
How delicious is the flagship dish called "masbaha", which is based on a proper masbaha and spicy tomato cream, croutons and fried onions - which make it a party.
So is the hummus with pickled lemon cream, fried eggplant cubes and a brown egg.
Along with all this, we also tasted fresh and immaculately fresh salads, fried cauliflower, thin slices of French fries and more.
We also enjoyed the malabi dessert on its two latest versions: rose syrup or salted caramel.
Milk-based or plant-based milk.
Materlo's hummus, Photo: Adi Peretz
Seventy and smiling, we walked back to the holiday village of Kibbutz Ein Zivan, immersed in a variety of shades of green, oval, yellow and orange of fall.
The light white painted wooden huts stand out against the bright and cold winter sky.
The large oak tree shades on a dazzling meadow in color, and a soothing silence all around.
"Switzerland is here," one of us concluded.
"You don't have to travel far to get away," I thought aloud.
"When again?", I was asked.
"Really soon," I promised.
Were we wrong?
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