My grandfather was the mayor of Sifsafeh, a village in Syria about 15 minutes from the Mediterranean. This meant people were always coming to his house so that he could solve their problems. And that meant my grandmother was always cooking, often with this meklee. All the other children were playing but I would watch my grandmother cook. She got this pot from her mother, so it’s at least 150 years old. It sat on three stones above a fire, and I remember the smells: the wood burning, the sautéed onions, the spices.

I went to college in Damascus, then to America for a master’s in food and nutrition. Before I opened my restaurant, I asked my mother for my grandmother’s pot. My mother came to visit and wrapped the meklee really well—it’s big, about 15 inches across—but in the Minneapolis airport, a customs officer cracked it. My heart broke. The pot is made from a kind of stone, and it’s thick, which is why the flavor is so good. They don’t make these anymore. I’m looking for an old person in Syria who knows how to fix it.

~ Sanaa Abourezk, owner, Sanaa’s 8th Street Gourmet, Sioux Falls, SD