Yaakov Merdinger transforms lumps of metal into cups of blessing
Photos: Elchanan Kotler
We spied the giant Hazorfim sign already from the highway, looking very intimidating and industrial. But once the taxi pulled onto the silent streets of Kfar Daniel, and we swung into the Hazorfim factory driveway, a different feeling took hold. The moshav-like atmosphere, the grass, flowers, and quiet pulled us in, like we were being let in on a giant, hushed secret.
The old guard at the factory desk looked surprised to see us and kept trying to point us in the direction of the luxurious factory store one door over. But we assured him we wanted to enter the rickety elevator and ride up to the factory floor above.
A gracious secretary led the way into a conference room complete with giant table and office chairs. An older man wearing a purple polo shirt was the room’s sole occupant. We settled into seats and Elchanan, the photographer, took out his camera. Hesitantly, I leaned my elbows on the table but then quickly removed them. Was the man in the purple shirt our liaison? The secretary brought us tea and juice but still no introductions.
Diving right in, I ask the man his name.
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