Spring in Palestine arrives gently but decisively, a season of rebirth and awakening. The land softens, and with it comes a vibrant burst of life. Hillsides are blanketed with red poppies, wild lupine flowers, chamomile, and the fragrant bloom of wild za’atar. This is the time for foraging, when generations return to the hills and valleys to gather what the land offers—khobeizeh (mallow), wild asparagus, fennel, and chicory, their flavors earthy and fresh.

Markets begin to fill with the brightness of new produce: green almonds still in their fuzzy shells, fresh peas, fava beans, artichokes, and tender grape leaves for rolling. There's a freshness and lightness to the meals—stews gently simmered with olive oil, lemon, and fresh herbs. Fava beans may be slow-cooked in a rich, tangy yogurt broth with spring lamb, while leafy greens like foarged dandelion are sautéed simply with olive oil, chilis, garlic, or onion and finished with a generous squeeze of lemon juice—perfect for scooping up with warm bread.

Spring’s short-lived treasures make the season feel sacred. Heirloom varieties of cherries and apricots—like the mistkawi, pale yellow and blushed with pink—appear briefly and are celebrated in every bite. Heirloom fruit like mistkawi apricots and vegetable festivals like batteri eggplants in the summer mark each season across towns and villages, honoring its abundance and encouraging community to gather and preserve its heritage. Fresh milk is churned into blocks of salty Nabulsi cheese and preserved in brine or rolled into tangy balls of goat’s milk labaneh, preserved in golden olive oil.

This is a time of renewal not just for the land, but for the spirit. After the heaviness of winter, kitchens open their windows wide, letting in the scent of orange blossoms and fresh rain. Meals are simple and intentional—meant to nourish and reflect the season’s beauty. In every gathering, there’s a quiet gratitude for the return of green, for what has endured, and for the sacred rhythm of planting, growing, and sharing.