"On that hill," God said, "I'll build the Kenesset."

Like many Ashkenazi Jews, I grew up with rugelach, the semi-cylindrical pastries that are a rolled strip of sweet dough and a filling. Alas, Gittel’s bakery has been gone for many years now, (yes, there really is a Gittel, a saintly woman who speaks fluent Spanish, Russian, and 4 other languages) but hers were and always will be the best in my mind. They were the perfect blend of nuts, caramelized sugars and cinnamon. The dough she and her husband used was far more cookie-like than most. They were…sublime.

But no matter how I espoused the greatness of Gittel’s, New Yorkers and others who disparaged my home town always had a three word rebuttal for me: “Marzipan’s chocolate rugelach.”

People still bring them back by the KILOGRAM from Israel. Those waiting for them at home eat them as if they were manna from heaven itself. They do this even though they get smushed by baggage handlers, crammed into overhead bins (or stepped on when placed below the seat in front you), irradiated in the x-ray detector, and arrive 72 hours after they have been made.

Feh.

They are perfectly lovely pastries, but I think there are local Jerusalem Bakeries- not to mention bakeries in Canada- that do just as good a job as Marzipan when it comes to chocolate and rugelach. Mentioning this opinion in public has always earned me the same shocked reaction I am sure I would get if I said “Actually, I’m in favor of a 783 state solution to the Arab-Israeli Conflict.”

It has always seemed to me that people are afraid to say “Marzipan's rugelach? The chocolate? They’re OK,” as if the Shin-Bet can find a security threat just by seeing if people posses the proper pavlovian profile when presented with these preeminent pastries (my, wasn’t that illiterative). Recently, however, somebody confided in me a dark secret. “I don’t think they are that good there either,” he noted quietly, “but the ones filled with ******- those are incredible. Those you have to try.”

So today, I went with my chevrutah partner to the Marzipan bakery. I saw a tray of something coming out of the oven.
Something bigger than chocolate rugelach, but the same shape.
Something that people were all pointing at and ordering in large amounts.
Something with a filling that was not chocolate, but clearly sweet.
Something like... Halvah.

It was only by an act of love (and the need not to get any fatter) that I was able to save one of the two halvah filled rugelach I bought. I gave the other to my beloved wife, who came home with a tired and slightly grumpy expression- it had been a long week. The smile it produced with one bite was instantaneous- and worth every shekel.

Halvah Rugelach. Has there even been a confection that is more symbolic of the Israeli people? Halvah, that crumbly sesame and sugar concoction that you either love or hate, is truly at its peak here in Israel, thanks to both the influx of Jews from the Eydot Ha’mizrach as well as the influence of arab citizens. Ashkenazi Jews have brought to Israel the latest in rugelach technology. Combine the two traditions, and you have a culinary force that could topple a government. That and the pizza boureaka alone are reasons to work tirelessly for a just and secure State of Israel. But there are things here even more remarkable than the pastries, chances for a better future worth even more effort.

And if we still will it, it still is no dream.