It’s the unlikely story of a nearly generic café, founded by two army buddies, that has become a full-blown sensation, all thanks to a rare viral campaign and a jingle every child in Israel now knows by heart.
Chiko & Miko - The Croissant Show isn’t a restaurant, and barely even qualifies as a modest eatery. But the viral phenomenon it has become, fusing food and social media, demanded that we pay a visit, especially now that the hype seems to have cooled slightly.
Naturally, the moment the kids heard about the assignment, they insisted on coming along and asked to bring friends, who in turn invited family members. Honestly, if I had announced I was hiring a bus to Chiko Miko, it would’ve filled up with teenagers in minutes.
The big questions guiding our visit: Is the hype real? Is it deserved? Is the dish even edible? And is it an experience worth repeating? We’ll just say the answers are surprisingly clear, but let’s start from the beginning.
Visitors from all over the country
It’s been years since Independence Square in Netanya saw this kind of revival. The area, which thrived in the 1980s and ’90s before giving way to newer, trendier parts of the city, seems to be enjoying a comeback. On a weeknight evening, traffic crawls toward the square, and parking is scarce, just like in the neighborhood’s glory days.
Outside what appears to be a fairly small storefront, dozens of tables are packed with families. At the entrance, a long line snakes down the sidewalk, divided into two especially crowded queues — one for the general public, and a second, curiously even longer, for holders of a “line-skipping” certificate.
A quick spot-check revealed the average wait time in the regular line: no less than 90 minutes. And those waiting weren’t just locals — people had come from Jerusalem, Afula, Ashdod, Ramat Gan and of course, Netanya. Everyone was there to see what the fuss was about.
So what exactly is the fuss about?
The trend began in Italy, where a small shop took the cornetto, the sweet Italian version of a croissant, and began stuffing it with flavored creams and Magnum-style ice cream bars. Sensing an opportunity, Chiko and Miko were the first to bring the idea to Israel. What started as an ordinary café serving pastries and sweets soon pivoted completely to focus on the Italian “surprise croissant” that had gone viral.
Today, the menu is simple: croissant, espresso and soft drinks — and honestly, that’s all it needs. Prices range from 40 to 50 shekels, depending on size and toppings.
One curious detail: In Chiko and Miko’s ultra-viral videos, where they prepare the croissants in odd and dramatic locations, the pastry appears significantly larger than what’s actually served at the shop. Still, even in its smallest version, few people can actually finish the sugar-laden creation. A quick walk-through after our tasting revealed that only a handful managed to finish theirs. The rest gave up after a few bites.
After more than an hour and fifteen minutes of waiting, we finally made it to the counter. Loud music played overhead as no fewer than eight staff members worked efficiently, each at their own station. One handled the oven, another stocked the Magnums, a third manned the register and the rest assembled the orders with skill and focus that was genuinely impressive.
At the center of it all was Chiko, the viral TikTok star who helped catapult the place to fame, moving between stations and keeping the energy high. Every few minutes, he stepped out to the counter for a round of selfies with fans, helping to pass the time and keep the kids excited.
Now for the food... if you can call it that.
We were greeted by Ori, a young and cheerful staffer who, after the endless wait, finally assembled our long-awaited croissant. The process began with choosing a type of Magnum bar from a long list of options. Next came the warm croissant, which could be filled with up to five types of spreads — white, milk or dark chocolate, crunchy chocolate bits, halva and, of course, the star of the moment: pistachio. The latter is the base for the “Dubai Croissant,” which also includes crispy strands of kataifi pastry.
Once the spread is in, the chopped-up Magnum bar is placed inside, and the warm croissant is folded over the frozen treat. On top, customers can drizzle a variety of creams — from more chocolate to dulce de leche, fruit syrups and more. The entire thing is dusted with powdered sugar. And then comes the final flourish: the customer’s “signature” — a Kinder snack of their choice (classic, white, Hippo or others), crushed and sprinkled over the top, along with a generous mound of whipped cream (sweet, of course).
Each croissant is served with disposable gloves, and at every table sits a giant bucket of wet wipes — an essential hygiene station for this sticky experience. The result? A dazzling, over-the-top and surprisingly charming dessert. One bite and you’re hit with the truth: this is indulgent, excessive and practically a sugar bomb. And yes, it absolutely tastes like one.
We ordered three croissants and tried different combinations from the menu. But aside from the unique texture of the kataifi in the Dubai version, it was hard to distinguish much else. It’s sweet layered on sweet layered on sweet, and after a bite or two, it becomes nearly impossible to keep going. We were done. No matter how impressively the place is run, the dish itself is simply not edible in full. Even the kids admitted the taste wasn’t worth the outrageous effort. The selfie? That, they said, was.
Looking ahead, it’ll be interesting to see what the owners do when the frenzy dies down, and it will.
How do they innovate? How do they move on? When do they stop? Even if the croissant is too much to handle, the people behind this place are clearly talented. They spotted a trend, rode it to viral heights and executed it with impressive professionalism — from perfectly targeted social content that reached every phone in Israel, to running a high-pressure operation like a machine.
If they can hold on to what they’ve built, fix what doesn’t work and plan the next move, we’ll definitely be hearing from Chiko or Miko again. Even without the croissant.
As for me? I just wanted to get home in one piece and dream of my next proper meal, one that, like the song they played on repeat at the shop, will definitely be better. Much better. Than that croissant.