Sharing a family dinner among the olive groves of Jordan

“Figs! You must try some Jordanian figs!” says Eisa, slapping his hands on his thighs. “Yalla, yalla!” His son, Yaman, appears from around the corner with a wicker basket, gesturing for me to follow him. We leave the courtyard of their family home, walking under a cloud of crimson pomegranates hanging above the front gate. In the garden, I’m greeted with a sweeping view…