For the past 77 years, Israel has systematically reshaped its identity through cultural appropriation across the Levant.
This effort goes beyond the destruction of Palestinian homes and villages or the pollution of Lebanon’s waters and coastlines. Israel’s appropriation is not merely territorial; it also involves the cultural symbols that define the people of the Levant, including food.
Staples of Levantine cuisine — such as hummus, falafel, baba ghanoush, tabbouleh, and knafeh — have long been claimed as part of Israel’s identity. Over time, Israel has rebranded these traditional dishes as their own, naming them ‘Israeli labneh’ and ‘Israeli shawarma’, using misleading narratives to obscure their true origins.
As Israel continues its cultural appropriation, the need to preserve Levantine heritage has never been more urgent.
While art, music, and literature play vital roles in resistance, food remains one of the strongest and most direct links to identity, carrying the values, stories, and customs passed down through generations.
To explore how food can serve this purpose, Al Rawiya highlights a unique pairing rooted in resistance: Palestinian wine and Lebanese cheese.
In Palestine, winemakers have long cultivated indigenous grapes, preserving centuries-old agricultural traditions, while in Lebanon, cheesemakers are reviving one of the world’s rarest and oldest cheeses, traditionally aged in clay jars.
Iqrit winemaking: The terroir of resistance and Palestinian memory
In Iqrit, a small village in the Upper Galilee, Amir Ashkar, a second-generation Palestinian winemaker at Ashkar Winery, views wine as more than just a beverage; it is a connection to his family’s ancient past and a powerful form of resistance against decades of Israeli occupation.
A young Amir and his late grandfather (Rest in Peace), picking Sauvignon Blanc grapes from the Samou’ Vineyard. 2014. Photo courtesy of Amir Ashkar.
As he puts it, “Wine isn’t just about producing something to drink — it’s about continuity, memory, and resistance.”
Once home to 460 Christians and 30 Muslims, Iqrit, with its ancient wine presses reflecting a winemaking tradition spanning thousands of years, was seized by the Israeli military during the 1948 Nakba, Israel’s ethnic cleansing of Palestine.
The villagers of Iqrit, including Amir’s family, were exiled, and their land was later repurposed for settlements by the newly established “State of Israel.”
Amir explains that the residents of Iqrit were promised they could return, but despite the Israeli Supreme Court ruling in 1951 that they had the right to, the Israeli Occupation Forces destroyed the village before they could reclaim their homes.
To this day, Amir’s family, along with other descendants, maintains a small outpost at the village church and continues to bury their dead in its cemetery, while all attempts to cultivate the land are uprooted by the Israel Land Authority, a governmental body headed by the Israel Land Council, which sets the country’s land policies.
Despite these ongoing challenges, Amir and his family, now living in Kufur Yasif, located 10–15 kilometers southeast of Iqrit, revived their winemaking tradition in 2010.
Currently serving Ashkar wines at restaurants like London’s iconic Notting Hill spot Akub, co-founded by chef Fadi Kattan, Amir emphasizes that winemaking is more than just a tradition; it’s an act of reclaiming something that was lost.
“It’s a way of bringing back a tradition that my ancestors practiced long before their displacement from Iqrit,” Amir explains.
In other words, for Amir, winemaking is not just about producing wine or flavor; it is an act of sensory return, honoring his connection to his ancestors and resisting the erasure of Palestinian culture.
Amir performs remontage, a winemaking technique used during fermentation to enhance color, flavor, and tannin extraction, during the harvest season. 2023. Photo courtesy of Amir Ashkar.
That said, in Amir’s eyes, even something as simple as pairing his Merlot with fresh taboon bread, za’atar, and olive oil is an act of remembrance and a refusal to forget.
Interestingly, one way winemaking has helped Amir revive memory and refuse to forget is through his view of the land, or what he calls the ‘terroir’ — a unique combination of environmental factors, including soil, climate, and topography, that contribute to the distinct characteristics of a wine.
Amir describes the terroir as a memory made tangible, explaining that the wild za’atar, dried figs, and native plants in his wines serve as reminders of pre-colonization Palestine, before the displacement and destruction.
“The Zionist project hasn’t just sought to erase Palestinian people, but also to erase the very landscape that sustained it,” Amir continues.
“Through these wines,” he adds, “we’re not just preserving Palestine’s terroir; we’re reviving it.”
Ashkar Winery wine bottles, pictured atop the ruins of an ancient winepress in Iqrit. Photo courtesy of Amir Ashkar.
Baalbek’s ambarees: A thousand-year tradition of Lebanese resistance
In Lebanon, food similarly serves as a tool for preservation, resistance, and connection to the past.
While Amir Ashkar focuses on winemaking to preserve Palestinian culture, Hassan El Husseini, a Lebanese agriculturalist and co-owner of Palmyra Hotel in Baalbek, a region known for its ancient Roman ruins, is dedicated to reviving traditional Lebanese cheesemaking techniques passed down through generations.
Like Amir, Hassan grew up surrounded by agriculture, learning the trade from his family, notably his father. After studying environmental science, he lived in India for a time; however, when the 2019 revolution broke out in Lebanon, he felt a strong duty to return home.
Once back, Hassan became actively involved in the movement, using his voice to raise awareness about the people’s rights and their demands for change. His goal was to demonstrate that, even in difficult times, individuals have the power to make a difference and push for lasting change.
Upon his return to Lebanon, Hassan moved to Baalbek, where he took on an artist residency project at the Palmyra Hotel.
At this point in his life, his vision was to transform the hotel into a cultural hub — a space where artists could showcase their work and highlight the beauty and significance of the region.
The temple of Baalbeck’s ruins, as seen from Palmyra Hotel, co-owned by Hassan El Husseini. Photo by Rami El-Sabban.
However, despite his enthusiasm and vision, Hassan struggled to secure the funding needed for the residency. With limited resources, he soon turned his focus to another way of preserving Lebanon’s heritage: food.
This shift, however, was not without its challenges. Baalbek had long struggled with negative perceptions, largely due to a lack of state investment and support for development.
Determined to change these views, Hassan focused on making ambarees, a traditional Lebanese cheese made in clay jars.
As Hassan highlights, the process of making ambarees is labor-intensive and takes the entire summer to prepare, but it allows the cheese to be preserved naturally, meaning it lasts through the winter without refrigeration.
For Hassan, this process represents not only Lebanese ingenuity but also the resilience of a culture that has withstood many challenges, including Israel’s occupation.
“Cheesemaking is part of the resistance,” Hassan asserts.
Elaborating further, Hassan explained that the revival of ambarees, this ancient cheesemaking craft, not only honors his family’s legacy but also sends a powerful message about Lebanon’s cultural identity.
According to Hassan, the process of producing ambarees — requiring both patience and time — perfectly reflects the rich agricultural history that has shaped Lebanon for centuries.
Reflecting on this history, Hassan points out that before the globalization and industrialization of food, “we had old habits that took time and patience.”
With this in mind, Hassan hopes that serving ambarees to guests at the Palmyra Hotel as part of their breakfast offers them a taste of Lebanon’s past, reminding people of culinary traditions that predate mass production.
Hassan notes, “By using Lebanese sheep and goat milk instead of milk from imported cows, we’re reconnecting with what we have, which is already so great.”
He adds, “We don’t have to copy others,” encouraging people to embrace local traditions and use what the land offers.
This, he says, empowers them to take control of their food security and sovereignty while resisting the globalized food systems that threaten to erase them.
Hassan emphasizes the use of local sheep and goat milk instead of importing milk to embrace what the land has to offer. Photo by Serge Melki via Flickr (CC BY 2.0).
Honoring the past to honor the future
Ultimately, for both Amir and Hassan, food serves as a means to connect with their pasts, preserve their heritage, and resist forces that seek to erase their cultures.
Through winemaking and cheesemaking, they have found ways to honor their ancestors and ensure their traditions endure.
As Amir puts it, “Our history does not vanish just because colonial forces try to overwrite it.” Similarly, Hassan views cheesemaking as a means to remind people of Lebanon’s rich agricultural history and the importance of local, traditional foods in maintaining cultural identity.
Zainab Mehdi
زينب مهدي هي صحفية بريطانية-عراقية وتشغل منصب محررة قسم المقالات في منصةالعربي الجديد. نُشرت كتابات زينب في منصات عدّة من بينها Mille World، وGQ الشرق الأوسط، ومركز كارنيغي للشرق الأوسط، وصحيفة ذا ناشيونال، وTRT World، ومجلة Tribe Photo، ومجلة 5ELEVEN، ومنصة Amwaj.media، وميدل إيست مونيتور، وThe Arab Weekly، ومجلة Oxford Middle East Review، وLSE Review of Books، ومركز الشرق الأوسط في كلية لندن للاقتصاد. تحمل زينب شهادة البكالوريوس في التاريخ الحديث والعلاقات الدولية من جامعة إسكس، ودرجة الماجستير في دراسات الشرق الأدنى والأوسط من كلية الدراسات الشرقية والأفريقية. تقيم حالياً في لندن.
