“I can only compare the past year to a painful, forced farewell to a great love that was abruptly cut short,” says chef Michael Gratofsky, trying to articulate what it meant for him to shutter his restaurant, Michael Local Bistro, in Moshav Liman, near the Lebanese border.
Since October 7, the restaurant has remained closed, its future uncertain, despite the ceasefire. “Running a place like this near the Lebanese border demands an energy rooted in peace and tranquility. Only time will tell.”
The past 18 months have been nothing short of harrowing for Israel’s culinary industry. The war that erupted on October 7 shook the nation just as restaurateurs and food producers were beginning to recover from the devastation of the COVID-19 pandemic.
Amidst this darkness, the northern region – on the frontline of the storm – offers a compelling lesson in resilience, hope, and renewal through the most unifying force of all: food – and Israel’s food culture.
When life comes to a halt
Like many other businesses over the past year, Mattarello Bakery was forced to close. Located in the Golan Heights, the bakery was the pride of Adi Peretz, a young and ambitious native of Kibbutz Ein Zivan. Formerly a photographer, Adi swapped his camera for a rolling pin and transformed his passion for baking into a thriving business. His bakery quickly became a pilgrimage site and gained a reputation for some of the country’s best laminated pastries.
Though his style leaned on European technique, his ingredients were deeply local: apples from nearby orchards, truffles from the start-up Ilisar; caviar and trout from Kibbutz Dan; and foraged mushrooms. However, like many in the region, the bakery was forced to shut down.
According to the Central Bureau of Statistics, 64% of businesses in northern Israel reported severe losses since October 7. In the food and beverage sector, revenues dropped by over 70%, and a quarter of businesses shut permanently. Behind those numbers are families, dreams, and irreplaceable cultural legacies.
In the early months of the war, Peretz fought to adapt. “I went from 25 employees down to just six. Only soldiers were coming. In April, even they were gone. As rocket sirens intensified, even the few who had ventured out had fled. We were left entirely alone. Since then, we’ve operated at 30% capacity. I was losing money, but I didn’t want to lay off anyone. This place is beloved – but I simply couldn’t afford to sustain it.”
The war’s effects extend beyond Israel’s borders. In the very same kibbutz of Ein Zivan, Pelter Winery – renowned both locally and abroad – has also suffered significant damage. “At the beginning of the war, we lost several acres of a four-year-old vineyard to fire, right in the first year it was set to yield fruit. We lost 600 bottles of rosé in an instant,” says CEO Gal Yaniv. Their visitors’ center, which typically hosted thousands each month, saw a dramatic drop in traffic. Export operations to Belgium, France, and the UK were also disrupted. “These days, our wine – like many Israeli products – is being stigmatized.”
‘Trying to rebuild, piece by piece’
Yet the damage isn’t merely economic. When a restaurant closes, it’s not just the owners, staff, or supply chains – from farmers to distributors – who suffer. What disappears is also a social space, a community hub, and an integral thread in the cultural tapestry of the region.
Northern Israel, rich in diversity – Druze, Arab, Jewish, Bedouin, Circassian, and others – boasts a unique culinary mosaic, with each component telling its own story.
Safa Ibrahim, a home cook from the Druze village of Mas’ade in the northern Golan, serves as a living bridge between generations and cultures. Her family home, whether the living room or the garden, becomes a warm, intimate venue for Syrian-Druze meals prepared in advance for small groups. She learned to cook from her mother, the village’s wedding caterer, and her mother-in-law. After years of working in a restaurant kitchen, she founded her catering service, The Little Kitchen, when she felt ready and supported to branch out independently.
But war changed everything. Technically ineligible for evacuation due to proximity rules, she received compensation only two months ago. As for customers? “During the war, I had none. Zero. Even now, people come for the day and then go back. They’re afraid to stay,” she explains. Even during Passover – once a peak travel season – her business remained deserted. Today, she relies mostly on repeat clients from before the war. Yet she remains hopeful: “I’m trying to seize every opportunity to rebuild; to reintroduce myself.”
The push the North desperately needs
Ibrahim’s experience reflects what’s happening across the region. The toll is felt across Galilee and the Golan. In Yarka, a Druze town of 20,000 residents, tour guide Marwan Haj paints a similar picture. “Before the war, weekends would bring five times the town’s population in visitors. Since October 2023, not a single weekend has come close.”
Haj is one of dozens of guides participating in a new initiative called Tzafona (“heading North”), created by Asif: Culinary Institute of Israel. The project’s premises are simple yet powerful: It offers affordable culinary tours for the public and corporate groups. Led by the finest local guides, these tours are not only gastronomic adventures but also an invitation to reconnect with the region, its traditions, and the people behind the flavors.
Yet Tzafona doesn’t stop at supporting small businesses and resuscitating the tourism industry that flatlined after October 7. At Asif, we amplify the project through social media – particularly by sharing stories from the tour participants themselves – to broaden the project’s reach and impact. As Ibrahim noted, civil society still hesitates to return to the North. But a strong presence of travelers could be just what it takes to restore confidence and revive local tourism.
“The Tzafona project is exactly the push we need here in the Galilee,” says Nir Bona, who guides tours in Safed and its surroundings. Thanks to the initiative, Bona has finally realized his long-standing dream: expanding into new regions and cultures. “We recently launched a tasting tour in Tiberias – an extraordinary city with a rich culinary tradition that has long awaited curious travelers.”
Tzafona proves that renewal can grow from crisis, and human connection is a powerful remedy in times of hardship. These tours create a virtuous cycle of mutual support. Participants uplift local businesses who, in turn, offer them meaningful, enriching experiences. In a time of loss and uncertainty, this shared table becomes a symbol of hope and a taste of resilience.
The writer is CEO of Asif: Culinary Institute of Israel.
