The Best Breakfast | Ajloun

Ajloun, Jordan

We arrived after an insane travel day. You know, when you get into the airport at 3AM, passport control is a breeze, but no one’s open. We’re renting a car and even though the website says 24hrs, not this night. Then drove while it was still dark out, all the way to the northern tip of Jordan. Of course the ruins park wasn’t open by the time we got there, so we slept (hard) in the car for 2 hours! Yikes…

Ajloun was just what we needed.

Ajloun is a small town nestled within the Ajlun mountains located about 50 miles (80km) north of Amman. Our hotel was only a little ways up from the town square, but it’s so steep in this area, we decided to drive.

The square was a hotspot of small order-at-the-counter restaurants (kebabs, rice & veggies), Jordanian dessert stands and a bustling outdoor market selling fruit, bread and flowers. This is a very small town. But everyone was pleasant, and it was a lot of fun ordering from the counter. Breanne has blonde hair and it seems to stand out more when you walk into a cramped space with a lot of men yelling things back and forth. We brought our loot home and crawled into bed.

Bed and Breakfast

The Ajloun Hotel is staffed by a husband and wife that greet you when you walk in. They proceed to cook for you in the morning. Not any specific time, just anytime you come down stairs. What’s for breakfast?

When we came downstairs and walked into the dining room, the windows overlooked the surrounding mountains with a field right outside. The table was set, and the owner, while sitting, cutting a melon, invited us to sit down.

The table was set with labaneh (yogurt), hummus, moutabel (pureed eggplant with garlic), haloumi (similar to feta), olives, olive oil, laffa (leavened flatbread), tomatoes, hardboiled eggs, cucumbers, lemon, and a bowl of za’atar spices – all of which were picked fresh from the garden right outside the window.

The owner was an older man that spoke with a deep, scratchy voice. He sat relaxed with his legs crossed and continued to cut and pass out the melon. While we began to create a plate from these earthy, complex flavors (fresh olive oil is amazing), he began asking about us.

We told him our travels and our home-life back in the states.

The morning sun was piercing diamonds of light onto the table and into our eyes. It was one of those rare moments when the food, the company, and the space all come together.

The flavors were jumping off my tongue. The brightness that came off the yogurt, mixed with the creaminess of the olive oil and spices that brought you directly into contact with common-sense. This tastes good.

The conversation turned to the Israel/Palestine conflict. As the entire globe is aware, Americans are in pretty tight with Israel. I could tell he was wondering where we stood. I wasn’t dismissive of the fact he had a map hanging on the wall of Palestine (not mentioning the state of Israel. I knew where he stood.

Perspective

When we were done with the meal, we checked out and took off for the Dead Sea.

I never got a picture of the table filled with Jordanian cuisine, or the view of the windows overlooking the mountainside. As much as I do love these pictures, sometimes the memory is better than anything you could have captured. It offers a yearning sensation to return once again.

While we were sitting around the table still talking long after we were finished eating, the owner looked at us and said, “We are all brothers. We all came from the same grandmother; came from the same grandfather.”