The Art of Pressing Sesame: A Family Honors Its Tradition and Devotion to Craft

“This place has the scent of the Old City of Jerusalem.” This was my first thought upon entering al-Jebrini’s small tahini factory at ‘Aqbat al-Mawlawiyya, after Sheikh Raihan Ascent, close to Souk Khan al-Zeit.

On reflection, this is no surprise: the sesame and tahini found in this place is the source of some of the famous edibles found in the streets of Jerusalem— ka‘ek al-Quds, hummus, barazeq, and halaweh.

Most likely, too, the scent is due to the long history of the press. The time-honed enterprise dates back more than 260 years. For the past 150 years, the al-Jebrini family has been running it, and today two of the six brothers are managing it. One of them, Ishak al-Jebrini, told Jerusalem Story: “This is the only place in the world that uses the old method of grinding the sesame with basalt grindstones after roasting it in a tabun. This is why oil does not collect at the top of the tahini jar.”1 Most of the tahini found in the markets does not compare to the quality of that produced at al-Jebrini.

In Arabic, the origin of the word tahini comes from the three-letter root t-h-n, which means “to grind.” Generations of the al-Jebrini family have mastered the art of grinding sesame seeds to produce such a creamy sesame paste.

Ishak is proud of having sustained the family tradition. For over 10 years, Israeli authorities imposed regulations in food production ostensibly for health reasons, which required the family to use metal and plastic. He prefers the old ways. “Our families maintained the old tradition for several generations, and no one got sick,” he said.

Ishak’s small, nondescript spot exudes authenticity, far removed from the world of mass production and marketing. The shop does not even have a sign outside, and its tahini jars do not have labels. As one might expect, the final product doesn’t include an iota of preservatives. And it is only available in the store.

“We do not distribute; our customers come to us,” Ishak says. “Those who want our tahini will know how to find us. We have our own clientele, which includes internationals—they remember us fondly and appreciate our tahini. Once they try us, they keep coming back.” He pauses and adds: “Pardon me, but not everyone has a refined palate for tahini.” According to Ishak, there are important differences in their products that stand out from the industrial ones in the market.

“There’s something everyone must know when it comes to tahini,” Ishak notes. Typically, the store-bought tahini has a lot of oil on the topmost surface, with a thick, muddy texture piling up at the bottom. “This is because large factories mass-produce the tahini. Some of them produce up to 300 kilograms in one hour.” The problem there is that the tahini collects residue from the stones and factories, he explains. “Beware of eating that residue at the bottom,” Ishak warns. “It’s the residue of melted stones. It’s dirt.”

“It’s fine to consume the oil on top—but not to cook with it,” he adds. He emphasizes the importance of properly roasting sesame seeds to extract high-quality sesame oil. For the oil, it takes them up to 10 hours to roast the sesame, which not only makes the oil healthy but exceptionally delicious when used for cooking rice or stuffed grape leaves, Ishak explains.

The stones Ishak uses to roast the seeds on are as old as the press—in other words, more than 250 years old.

“We use water and salt to clean the seeds,” Ishak describes: “It’s the old method of working. We first wash the sesame with water, keep it moist for four to five hours, separate the shells from the seed, dry it in two phases, and then roast it on volcanic stones.”

“We make all kinds of things out of sesame seeds,” he continues. The most appreciated condiment made of seeds, however, is the tahini, and it comes in different colors and types.

First, there’s the standard, beige tahini, familiar to most people. For this type of tahini, the stone is preheated, then the seeds are placed on the stone for three to four hours, without fire. This process is what brings out the white texture of the tahini, Ishak explains. The reddish tahini is roasted longer—for up to 10 hours—in the tabun. “This method yields the healthiest and richest sirej (sesame oil),” he says. There’s also the whole-sesame tahini (with the shells on), which has a crunchier texture and a slightly nuttier flavor. Finally, there’s the black paste made of izha (nigella seeds)—also known as habbet al-baraka, which literally means the blessed seed.

“We use all types of sesame seeds,” Ishak confirms. There are differences among the sesame seeds themselves, he happily explains: The Ethiopian seed is ideal for the beige and whole-sesame tahini. Meanwhile, the Nigerian seed—particularly rich with sesame oil—is best for making the red tahini. The Chad sesame, on the other hand, has smaller pieces, is lighter, and sticks easier to the dough. When roasted, it takes on a golden color, which makes it most suitable for bread—and ka‘ek-making ovens or as part of a za‘atar mix.

In addition to the different types of sesame and tahini, Ishak also sells other items in which sesame features prominently, such as the rich sesame oil, halaweh, and sesame brittle (simismiyya).

Mixing certain types of tahini together is a good idea, Ishak suggests. Like many Jerusalemites, he maintains some of the ancient healing wisdom and folk remedies passed down through generations. As an example, he suggests mixing a bit of the black seed oil with a bit of the red tahini paste and adding pomegranate molasses or honey to the mix. This heals sore throats, he explains. High in antioxidants, this blend has anti-inflammatory benefits and antibacterial characteristics and is a great immune system booster.

Many Palestinians use the oil of the black (nigella) seed as herbal medicine. It is referred to as the blessed seed, because it is referenced in Muslim tradition as a natural remedy for various ailments. The Prophet Muhammad is believed to have said: “In the black seed, there is healing for every disease except death.”

Sesame has been valued for its nutritional properties as far back as 3000 BCE.2

Before 1948, there used to be up to 28 tahini and sesame oil presses within the walls of Jerusalem’s Old City. Today, only two remain that have maintained the old traditional methods, al-Jebrini and al-Salihi.

Ishak is proud that his family business uses the traditional method. He insists on holding onto his family business and on maintaining the family tradition, despite all temptations to leave the city or to modernize the trade.

“We have so many obstacles here that one cannot even imagine,” Ishak tells Jerusalem Story. He speaks of the hardships they endure in Jerusalem, such as the difficulties in transporting the sesame due to closures, high taxes, and insurance fees and the exorbitant fines to which their trucks as well as private vehicles are subjected.

“The biggest challenge has been the closure on the West Bank,” he asserts, referring to the Israeli permit system and checkpoints that have made it impossible for most Palestinians holding Palestinian Authority IDs to enter Jerusalem. “Jerusalem without the West Bank, businesswise, is disastrous.”

Nevertheless, Ishak cannot imagine moving outside of Jerusalem—or even outside of the Old City, for that matter. “You wouldn’t believe the tempting offers we got to run this business outside of the country, but I wouldn’t even think about leaving this place.”

“It’s like the fish and water,” he reflects. “The fish will die outside of the water. Jerusalem is where we saw life, and we are here to stay.”