The Jordanians, like their Zarb, are open and inviting. With Bedouin roots, Levantine traditions, and a place at the Middle East’s cultural crossroads, Jordan is a land of shared meals, resilience, and radical hospitality—offering refuge, peace talks, and communal tables. Zarb, a Bedouin-style underground barbecue, slow-cooks lamb or chicken with vegetables and spice in a desert pit, yielding smoky, rich tenderness. I’ve spent time with one foot in Jordan and one in the Negev—then a borderless stretch of arid soil and green herb farms fed by the Jordan River. I drank nana tea in dry riverbeds on camel hair blankets under a moon that shone equally, kaleidoscopically on Israel, Jordan, Palestine, Syria, Lebanon, and Egypt. It was there I understood Jordans openness. It was in Petra—riding donkeys past 2,000-year-old pink-stone dwellings—that I first tasted Zarb and understood Jordan’s role as a trade hub and haven for the displaced. This salt is my anti-immigration-ban, anti-tariff salt. It’s also my spring BBQ and vegetable salt. A blend of parsley, mint, dill, arugula, thyme, purslane, and warm Levantine spice—it channels Petra’s spirit, Bedouin fire, and the absurdity of modern borders and authoritarian regimes. Use it on lamb, burgers, fire-roasted vegetables—or spinach, for fun.