It’s the end of an era (at least, I think): Nabolom Bakery, a beloved fixture in Berkeley’s Elmwood neighborhood and beyond for the past 50 years, closed its doors on Sunday.

I say “I think” because I distinctly remember sounding the death knell when it presumably closed for good in 2016, only to be resurrected six months later by two very savvy people who managed to not only bring back the mouth-watering recipes of the previous regime but improve on them.

Nabolom (the name is Mayan for “house of fire”) was founded in 1976 by a collective of the nicest bunch of anarchists you’d ever want to meet, and it was a big hit from the start, with its sinfully-fattening-but-oh-so delicious chocolate croissants, almond bear feet, brown sugar snails and its biggest seller by far, the “infamous cinnamon twists,” as they called them, loaded with cinnamon, brown sugar and barely enough flour to all hold together.

“I can’t start my day without my cinnamon twist,” one loyal customer told me, and a lot of people would agree with him.

As it turned out, he never had to. In 2016 the owners sold Nabolom — and, more importantly, its recipes — to Julia Elliott, a member of the Cheeseboard collective who had previously worked at Nabalom, and Sabra Stepak.

Their first move was to take the bakery to the next level by hiring workers based on their baking expertise instead of political viewpoint. If I had one complaint about the old Nabolom, it was that its output tended to be a bit uneven, depending on who was making pastries any given day. That problem never cropped up after Julia and Sabra took over.

Sabra also suggested an addition to a menu that already was famous for its breakfast pastries, including croissants, chocolate croissants, chocolate/almond croissants, cream cheese twists, orange cardamom knots and pistachio snails with chocolate chips. Namely, that addition was pizzas — all kinds of pizzas, and they were all a hit from Day One.

Many unexpected obstacles were still to come, especially the COVID lockdown. Julia and Sabra responded by turning Nabolom into a takeout place, and the customers kept coming. One guy who lived in Germany would fly regularly all the way here just to stock up on cinnamon twists.

On Sunday morning I got up early because I wanted to beat the crowd. I wanted to say goodbye to Julia and Sabra, and I knew I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t get a huge stash of cinnamon twists, even though I knew was on a fool’s errand because how long do you think I could resist the temptation to scarf them all down and then immediately feel remorseful about it because “my precious,” as Gollum would say, was gone?

When I got there at opening time, 8 a.m., the line already stretched around the block. I took my spot at the end, which soon ceased to be the end as more and more people kept arriving. I met some very nice people, including Laura, who grew up in Berkeley but lives in Minneapolis now. She was here with her 10-year-old son because she wanted him to have the experience of eating a Nabolom cinnamon twist while there was still time.

An hour later, we finally made it to the front of the line, and I had given up any hope that any cinnamon twists would still be there. But miracle of miracle, there they were — thanks to Sabra and Julia, who decreed five pastries per customer, tops. No exceptions.

So I took my treasures home and put them in a heavy-duty freezer bag with a very strong zipper, sucked out as much air as I could and popped them into the freezer, where they will probably languish for months and months until they become inedible because I have never understood that it’s impossible to have your cake and eat it too.

P.S.: Hope is not completely lost. Julia and Sabra are open to selling Nabolom — and those precious recipes. I’ll let you know if anything happens.

Martin Snapp can be reached at catman442@comcast.net.