"It was a grand occasion when my father, his 17 siblings and all their children gathered on Sundays. The women spent hours rolling grape leaves, stuffed with rice and meat, into little bundles, before adding the molasses. Next morning, we'd have eggs baked in pottery dishes sizzling with olive oil and, of course, topped with the molasses. I thought everyone ate like we did."
Read this great article on pomegranate molasses by my friend Nayla Zein Audi, who hails from the southern village of Kfar Rouman, not too far from my own village, Sinai. Nayla's grand father used to own my village (a tiny hamlet in fact).