words and photos by Melissa Muller Daka

In the fertile, tree-lined hills that surround Zemer, an Arab village in Israel, an aging Palestinian matriarch, Fataheyya Qaedan, has foraged for wild herbs with her female relatives since her youth. Among the edible delicacies that grow in the Levant, one aromatic shrub, called “za’atar” in Arabic, occupies a special place in her heart. But every time this grandmother treks up the hills to collect this coveted herb, she is breaking Israeli law, as she was unpleasantly reminded recently when bundles of za’atar were seized from her car by the police. She was fined 500 shekels, nearly $135.

Za’atar is a shrubby plant of the Labiate family, with soft, fuzzy leaves that have a pungent, earthy flavor; it is described interchangeably as a type of wild oregano, thyme or marjoram.  It is also the name of a spice mixture made from its dry leaves mixed with a variable mixture of salt, sumac and toasted sesame seeds. Throughout the Arab Levant and in some areas of North Africa, it is renowned for its distinctive taste and, according to folklore, is a strong memory booster.

A Palestinian woman in Israel gathers za’atar from her orchard

In Israel and the West Bank, za’atar also has a sociopolitical resonance far beyond culinary and nutritive realms. It has been a protected plant since 1977, when Israeli legislation made it illegal to pick it in the wild. Environmentalists claim that overharvesting has nearly denuded Israel of wild za’atar, and offenders risk fines of up to $4,000 or six months imprisonment for picking commercial quantities.

In the U.S., the popularity of za’atar is on the rise, and the spice is being revered for its distinctive taste. Little by little, za’atar is going mainstream. But in Middle Eastern homes, za’atar has a political significance that doesn’t cross borders.

Prior to the ban, za’atar already played an important symbolic role in Palestinian identity. Za’atar has been celebrated in the poems of the late Palestinian national poet Mahmoud Darwish and has been equated to “a symbol of the lost Palestinian homeland,” according to Omar Khalifah, a Palestinian-Jordanian Ph.D. candidate in Middle Eastern Studies at Columbia University.

Palestinians still forage for the herb in the wild because it remains an important symbolic role in their identity, said anthropologist Nasser Farraj, director of Palestinian Fair Trade, a company based in the West Bank that exports za’atar spice mixture. Farraj says the ban is a form of discrimination against Palestinians that has nothing to do with protecting the plant.  “It is a political issue, definitely not an environmental one,” he says. The ban is a “land control and land access issue,” that has transformed the traditional foraging and consuming the iconic herb into an act of resistance against Israeli authority.

Since the prohibition was imposed, the za’atar spice mixture has found its way into the Israeli marketplace, where it is sold to a Jewish clientele under the name “holy hyssop,” which appears repeatedly in the Hebrew Bible, most importantly in Exodus and the Psalms. Za’atar is now an integral part of Israel’s own culinary culture and is used by Israeli chefs and matriarchs alike.

Spice mixture “dukkah” with Za’tar, toasted sesame seeds, & sea salt.

Israeli native Snir Eng-Sela, chef-de-cuisine of Commerce Restaurant in New York City, uses fresh za’atar in everything from ceviche to marinades for lamb and fish to salads with parsley, lemon and pomegranate. He considers za’atar an “integral part” of the region’s food culture “in both Israeli and Arabic cuisines.”

Among Palestinians, though, little is taken at face value and even the consumption of food can be politicized. Farraj contends that occupation can take place even  “through our symbols,” and can be considered part of a “semiotic war” against Palestinians.

Elsewhere in the world, the political or cultural significance of za’atar simply doesn’t translate, even as it gains popularity among celebrity chefs and on the Food Network.  Andrew F. Smith, author of the books “Eating History” and “The Oxford Encyclopedia of Food and Drink in America,” notes that while every food item is entwined with culture, ethnic foods transported to a new environment tend to lose their original symbolism. He points to turkey, which in the U.S. has long been associated with our forefathers and national identity. Everywhere else in the world, it is “just another kind of meat to use for cooking,” he said.

While celebrity chefs across the nation from Emeril Lagasse to Jean-Georges Vongerichten now incorporate za’atar into their dishes, Smith points out that chefs are  usually “not interested in culture and politics,” they merely want to discover “new and unique” ingredients.

And za’atar fits that bill as a hitherto little-known Middle Eastern spice. Food trends in the U.S. result from a “culture of experimentation” and a “hunger among foodies” for “innovation and authenticity,” says Louise Kramer, communications director of the National Association for the Specialty Food Trade, the non-profit that runs the biannual “Fancy Food” trade shows. Za’atar, she posits, has all those ingredients.

Palestinian Bread Loaves topped with Za’atar and olive oil

But with za’atar, even its authenticity can be subjective. In Los Alamitos, Calif., Alicja Lombard runs a spice business called Awaken Savor. She produced her own mixtures after interviewing “what seems like hundreds” of Levantine matriarchs, but quickly discovered that “every grandmother has their own secret recipe, which they claim is the only real way to make the mixture.” As a result, she has five mixes: Syrian, Israeli, Jordanian, Turkish, North African and Lebanese, each tweaked a bit differently.

But no matter the recipe, Lombard learned that the dry spice is consumed daily in most homes of these regions and usually in the same way: It is served at breakfast in a small sharing dish, alongside some olive oil, with warm bread; it is also mixed directly with olive oil and rubbed onto small rounds of dough, then baked in wood burning ovens, resulting in a savory bread called manakeesh. Fresh za’atar leaves also are used as a stuffing for flat bread and also in salads.

Soufiane Lailani, a New York-based producer and importer of Moroccan food products, is in the beginning stages of bringing za’atar to the U.S. and expects that his firm, Alili Morocco, will carry the spice later this year. He is confident that za’atar is a “winner” not just because of its unforgettable taste, but because of the buzz over this new Middle Eastern spice, even on the Food Network. Within five years, he predicts, za’atar will “without a doubt” be a staple in “supermarket spice shelves around the country.”

 

For more on how spices have driven major events in history, check out The Spice Route, A History by John Keay by clicking here.

 

About Melissa

Melissa Muller Daka is a professional cook, writer and gastronomist who specializes in the diverse cuisines of the Mediterranean region. She holds a B.A. in Middle Eastern Languages and Cultures from Columbia University and a degree in Culinary Arts and International Breadmaking from the French Culinary Institute. At the age of 23, Melissa designed and developed “Osteria del Gallo Nero,” a Tuscan country-style restaurant in Greenwich Village, which she successfully owned & operated for the duration of the restaurant’s lease. Melissa and her husband, a CPA and fellow food lover, currently operate a private chef/catering business and are anticipating the opening of their new restaurant in Chelsea, New York City in the fall of 2010. In addition, Melissa is completing a Master’s degree at Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism, where she is focusing on the craft of writing about food and its relation to culture. To learn more about Melissa visit her website by clicking here.