Jewish Haredim diners are beginning to see the growth of high-end food scene in Israel

Michael Zilbershlag used to loathe to eat out: as a follower of kosher lemehadrin, one of the strictest forms of Jewish dietary law, the professional caterer found there often wasn’t anything she wanted to order.

That’s why two years ago Zilbershlag started a new brand, Kosher and Tasty, joining a wave of Haredi, or ultra-Orthodox, women in Israel mixing old rules with new Instagram filters as they promote and refine their communities’ traditional food.

About once a month Zilbershlag holds catering classes in her home in Hemed, a religious community in central Israel, drawing women from all over the country. While the kitchen is a traditionally acceptable space for women in conservative societies, Zilbershlag and Haredi female food entrepreneurs like her describe their work as a kind of consumer-driven outreach to combat the image of Haredim as anti-modern.

Traditionally, Haredi communities live secluded from secular society and according to conservative interpretations of Jewish law, for example prohibiting women’s pictures in public and commanding men to study Jewish texts all day. Haredim, a term encompassing many different sects, are now 12% of Israel’s 9 million citizens and, due to large families, are expected to reach one-third by 2065, according to the Israeli Democracy Institute.

But as ultra-Orthodox Israeli society grows, it is also changing, and one form of this is the growth of a high-end food scene. “There’s a lot of desire for new things,” said Malky Adler, 49, a chocolatier and pastry chef in Bnei Brak, an ultra-Orthodox suburb of Tel Aviv. Both she and her husband work, an increasingly common arrangement. “People want to have more modern food.”

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Tehilla Siton, the editor of a Haredi food magazine, Taimot, runs a private Facebook page for religious female foodies with more than 13,000 members and has observed the changes first-hand. “It used to be that the woman just cooked for her kids and the house. But now cooking has become a place for personal expression [and] people are watching cooking programmes on the internet, so they’re looking for a higher standard of food.”

Siton lives in Telz-Stone, an ultra-Orthodox town outside of Jerusalem, but was raised in Sanhedria, one of Jerusalem’s many Haredi neighbourhoods. Women like her are increasingly high-profile in catering businesses, cooking workshops and sponsored content on social media, and appear on cooking radio shows for the majority of Haredim who don’t use the internet at all.

Chefs and restaurant owners are also beginning to cater to Haredim diners. Traditionally in Haredi communities there’s a stigma, particularly for men, against eating out in restaurants and spending time in cafes: it’s seen as wasting time that should be used for studying religious texts. The stereotypical Haredi restaurant serves cheap home-style foods such as potato or noodle kugel pies on plastic plates.

“There’s a big community that keeps kosher lemehadrin and is ready to spend money,” said Siton. “Slowly, slowly, the owners of restaurants and chefs are starting to understand this and open [them] up.

“You have to understand that a restaurant is almost the only form of entertainment for a Haredi couple. They don’t go to the cinema, they don’t go the theatre. So a restaurant is something that’s accepted.”

There are still limits to what kosher lemehadrin food can be found in Israel. That means in Zilbershlag’s workshops asparagus is off limits (it has to do with making sure there no insects in it). Yet growing consumer demand is having an impact. Last year kosher lemehadrin sweetened condensed milk finally arrived.

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Adler said she had faced difficulties finding suitable milk chocolate for her pastries, but wider foods trends were helping: she just ordered her first batch of vegan chocolate and is experimenting more with coconut oil.

Yet not all changes. A recent article profiling her and other pastry chefs for a religious magazine came in two editions: one had her photographed beside another female and two male chefs; the second just showed the men.

And while Adler advertises her women-only group workshops through word of mouth and social media, many Haredi users hide their identity with fake names and photos, as they believe being found on social media can ruin a young woman’s marriage prospects.

Siton said people shouldn’t be surprised to see Haredi women filtering and showing off their food. “The internet influences all kinds of changes in the Haredi sector, not just food,” she said.