Zata Making and Beekeeping

Yesterday, we went on an adventure just outside of Amman, near the town of Salt. The goal was to learn a little bit about rural living in Jordan, and we did learn that rural living today is very different than it was 100 -- or even as recent as 70 -- years ago.

The Jordan Valley used to be a fertile place and home to fruit trees, figs, apricots, and wheat and barley. Many of those crops have been replaced by olive trees, due in large part to the durability of the olive tree and the value of olive oil. Much of the olive oil made in Jordan is exported, and replaced on the local market by olive oils imported from Spain, Greece, and Cyprus.

We started the day learning to make zata, a spice mixture that is smeared on pita bread. All of the ingredients of zata are found locally, with oregano being the most prominent ingredient and base for the mixture to which sesame seeds and sumac, along with other spices, are added.

We drove to a house in the countryside outside of Salt where we made manakesh with the zata on top. 

Growing up, we would go to Sitti's house every Sunday afternoon for an early dinner before being dropped back off at my mom's house. Zata was a part of every meal. Here, the bread with the zata on top is called manakesh, but we just called it zata, and as a kid, I don't remember particularly liking it. That's why I was a little unsure as to whether or not the kids would eat it or not, but to my surprise -- and relief -- they did!

After baking and eating the manakesh, and after drinking both coffee and tea accompanied by tasty, local fig cookies, we headed out on what was to be a 6 km hike through the countryside to our next destination, the beekeepers house. 

The day was overcast and it actually rained as we were hiking. It only rains about five days a year in Jordan, so we considered it a good omen. 

We were grateful the weather was cooler, and I didn't mind that the skies were a little grey. The green the winter rains brought to the countryside is already starting to leave the hills, and they were more brown and yellow than they were even a few short weeks ago. But the grey skies brought out subtle colors. Tiny yellow and violet flowers one may usually not notice on a bright, sunny day were more vivid on a grey day by comparison. 

As the rain grew more persistent and started to soak through backpacks and outer shells, our guide suggested cutting our hike short and heading directly to the beekeeper's house. Both Elise and I were in favor of pushing on through the rain, knowing it would subside or stop any minutes, but we were in the minority, so a little soggy, we slopped back into the bus and headed to the beekeeper's house a short drive through the country. 

There, we were disappointed to learn we would not have the opportunity to don the traditional beekeeper attire as we had originally hoped due to the rain. We were. however, treated to a lecture about the ins and outs of beekeeping and were able to taste the local spring, citrus honey on a pudding made from sheep's milk. 

Though we didn't get to put on the bee suit or see the hives, we did see how the honey is extracted from the combs; each individual frame is hand spun in a centrifuge until the honey is pulled from the comb and collected in the bottom of a giant plastic bin.