Hingiv: The Wild Mountain Honey of Kurdistan

Sherko Sabir
May 29
5 min read

Hingiv: The Wild Mountain Honey of Kurdistan

Hingiv — honey — is one of Kurdistan’s most prized natural foods, and the best of it is mountain honey: made by bees foraging the wildflowers of the high summer pastures the Kurds call zozan. In the markets of Sulaimani, buyers seek out “mountain honey” specifically, paying many times the price of ordinary honey for a jar that carries the taste of a particular alpine meadow. It is the original Kurdish sweetener, the gold the mountains make. And its quality is not just local pride. Kurdistan’s mountains have the right climate and the right wildflowers for fine honey, and the result has been measured: a peer-reviewed study found that honeys from Iraqi Kurdistan met the strict quality criteria set by European Union law. In the far north, the Karakovan honey of Hakkari and Şemdinli, gathered in traditional log hives in the shadow of the Cilo range, is spoken of in the same breath as Turkey’s celebrated Anzer honey. From the Qandil range to the Cilo glaciers, the Kurdish highlands are bee country. This is the ninety-seventh article in the series. Honey is an ingredient rather than a dish, but it deserves its own place because it underwrites so much of the Kurdish table — the sweetener behind the syrups, breads, and pastries — and because its story says something stark about Kurdistan itself: a product of extraordinary mountains, and a casualty of what those mountains have endured.

Key Takeaways

• Kurdish mountain honey (hingiv) is made by bees foraging the wildflowers of the high zozan pastures

• Peer-reviewed research found Iraqi Kurdistan honey meets strict EU quality standards

• Hakkari’s “Karakovan” log-hive honey is rated alongside Turkey’s famous Anzer honey

• Cross-border bombardment of the Kurdish mountains damages hives and devastates honey harvests

Quick Facts

Kurdish Name: Hingiv (honey); the prized grade is “mountain honey”

Source: Wildflowers of the zozan (high mountain pastures) across all parts of Kurdistan

Famous for: Sulaimani/Dohuk/Erbil mountain honey; Hakkari & Şemdinli Karakovan honey

Quality: Scientifically shown to meet EU standards; sells at a steep premium

The Mountain Harvest

Kurdish mountain honey begins where the cultivated land ends. In summer, when the high pastures bloom, beekeepers move hives up into the zozan, the alpine meadows thick with wildflowers, and let the bees do what the mountain allows — forage a diversity of blossoms no monoculture field could offer. The richness of that wild flora is exactly what gives the honey its depth and its reputation; the same biodiversity the Kurds harvest by hand as foraged greens, the bees harvest as nectar. In the far north, around Hakkari and Şemdinli, the prized method is Karakovan: the old style of keeping bees in hollow log hives rather than modern boxes, producing a dark, intense honey that locals rank with the most famous in the region. Beekeeping is a serious livelihood — the Kurdistan Region alone counts over ten thousand beekeepers and a beekeepers’ association running training courses — yet much of it remains small, seasonal, and tied to the rhythm of the mountains. The honey is sold barely touched, often still on the comb, and the best jars command prices several times those of lowland honey, because buyers know that a spoonful of zozan honey is a spoonful of a specific Kurdish mountain in flower.

Sweetness Under Fire

There is a darker thread in the story of Kurdish honey, and it is impossible to tell honestly without it. The very mountains that produce the finest honey are also among the most militarised land in the Middle East. The high ranges along Kurdistan’s borders — the Qandil massif, the peaks above Şemdinli — are repeatedly bombed in cross-border operations, and beekeepers have described being forced to abandon the high pastures, their hives damaged, their bees driven off, the flowering forests set ablaze. War, as one beekeeper put it, is a buzzkill: in the worst years the bees fly away and the vines and forests burn before the honey can be gathered. This is the same pattern this series has traced through other foods — the wild caper kepari lost to landmines, the kenger pushed toward extinction — a cuisine endangered not only by relabeling but by the literal destruction of the land that feeds it. And yet the honey keeps coming. Scientists in Europe test Kurdish jars and find them meeting the strictest standards; beekeepers retrain and rebuild; the zozan blooms again each summer. Hingiv is, in the end, a small act of mountain stubbornness — sweetness produced, against the odds, by a landscape that refuses to stop flowering.

Frequently Asked Questions

What makes Kurdish mountain honey special?

Kurdish mountain honey is made by bees foraging the wild, diverse flowers of Kurdistan’s high summer pastures (zozan), where the climate and flora are ideal for the bees. That biodiversity gives the honey a deep, complex flavour. Its quality is more than reputation: a peer-reviewed study found honey from Iraqi Kurdistan met strict European Union standards. The best grades sell for several times the price of ordinary honey.

What is Karakovan honey?

Karakovan honey is honey produced in the traditional way, with bees kept in hollow log hives rather than modern boxes, especially around Hakkari and Şemdinli in the Kurdish north. It is dark and intense, and locals rank it alongside Turkey’s celebrated Anzer honey. The traditional method and the rich highland flora of ranges like Cilo give Karakovan honey its prized character.

How does conflict affect Kurdish honey?

The high border mountains that produce the best honey are also heavily militarised. Cross-border bombardment of ranges like Qandil and the peaks above Şemdinli damages hives, drives away bees, and burns the flowering forests, forcing beekeepers to abandon the high pastures in the worst years. As a result, conflict directly reduces honey harvests — one of several ways the destruction of the Kurdish mountains threatens the foods that depend on them.

Conclusion

Hingiv is the ninety-seventh article in this series, and the sweetest argument yet for a simple idea: that the Kurdish table is, before anything else, a product of the Kurdish mountains. Mountain honey is the high pasture turned to gold — the wildflowers of the zozan concentrated into a jar, good enough to pass Europe’s strictest tests, prized from the markets of Sulaimani to the log hives of Hakkari. It is the original sweetener behind the syrups and pastries this series has traced, and it is also a quiet witness to the cost of conflict, harvested in the same ranges that are bombed and burned. Ninety-seven articles in, hingiv stands for the Kurdish highlands themselves: generous, renowned, embattled — and still, every summer, in flower.