Zaytoun Za’atar: smells like home
The goodenough college is celebrating Arab Cultural week. Last night there was, among other things, a sale of Zaytoun products, as a gesture of solidarity with the Palestinian people. I’m a big fan of fair trade, and my sentiments on the Palestinian issue are known. So I bought a jar of Za’atar. This morning I opened it and was stunned by a strong wave of sensetions. Just cracking open the lid filled the kitchen with scents of my childhood. As if in a time warp, I saw myself walking in the Judea hills, smelling the wild theme rubbing against my shows. Feeling the dry thisle scratching my knees. I remembered saturday walks in the old city, dad buying us “Beigale” with Za’atar rolled up in little newspaper cones. My Jerusalem in exile.
The Jerusalem of my childhood may have never existed: the thisle grows on ruins, my Beigale is really Ka’ak, and that says it all. But there’s no denying the smell of Za’atar. It has its right of self-determination. It catches me unawares and takes me where it will.
Anyway, I had a look at the label. It says “produced by Palestinian farmers from the Gallilie”. Oh well, I thought, I gusess I just pays a little bit VAT to finance Netanhayu’s goverment.