As Ramallah is the administrative city of the Palestinian National Authority and considered a no-go zone for Israelis, I suspected my words might inspire a change in the passenger’s friendly tone. Instead, her eyes lit up.

Ramallah, located just six miles north of Jerusalem, is considered the most liberal Palestinian city. The unofficial center of the city is Al-Manara Square, a traffic circle with five stone lions perched in its center. More than just a landmark to find one’s way around town, Al-Manara is also a de facto location for protesting against the Israeli government. Spanning out from the square are bustling streets that in the evenings fill with both citizens and tourists visiting restaurants, nightclubs, kebab stands, and bars. Roughly three blocks east of the square, on the aptly named Rukab Street, is Ramallah’s most revered confectioner: Rukab’s Ice Cream Parlor.

According to the Oslo II Accord that was signed in September of 1995, sections of the West Bank and Gaza Strip were broken up into officially designated divisions; Areas A, B, and C. These areas would be recognized and honored by both the Israeli government and Palestinian Authority. Cities like Ramallah fall under Area A; in these locations, both civil services and security is provided by the Palestinian Authority. Although Israeli Defense forces regularly enter these areas to conduct raids and arrests of suspected militants, it is illegal for non-serving Israeli citizens to enter. Area B is under joint Israeli-Palestinian control, and ‘technically’ should not include Israeli settlements. Area C is any location within the West Bank that is under full Israeli control; this includes both military outposts and settlements.

“Oh my goodness, you are so lucky,” the woman said. “When you are there, you must go to Rukab Ice Cream shop. I used to go there when I was a little girl. The ice cream is stretchy, like melted cheese. It makes me so sad that I may not have that ice cream ever again.”

Open late into the night, the landmark shop has been in business since 1941 and established a name for itself selling homemade dondurma, a Turkish-style ice cream that is made with mastic. A resin gathered from the Pistacia lentiscus tree, mastic is referred to as Arabic gum in the States. The hardened droplets of resin that are hand gathered and shipped from the Greek island of Chios give Rekab’s ice cream its trademark elasticity and unique flavor.

As soon as you enter the shop, you’ll see counter-men whipping colorful frozen strands as if they are pulling taffy. Banana, strawberry, and pistachio are just a few of the locals’ favorite flavors. Although all varieties contain the mastic resin, I am drawn to the Rekab’s Arabic Gum, which is the original recipe. Made with milk, sugar, mastic, and not much else, its cool creaminess is followed by a clear, woody finish, lending the original recipe the best qualities of cedar and pine. Pulling a mouthful of dondurma from a cone is a dance within itself. The eater’s mouth must follow the elastic strands back to the cone, and pinch it off with a quick scissoring of the teeth.

Current co-owner Jimmy Rukab instructs me on proper ice cream-eating etiquette while waxing poetic about his family’s legacy. “My grandfather opened this shop in 1941, but he was selling ice cream for a long time before that from a street cart. His father used to work in the orange orchards in Jaffa and one day died unexpectedly. My grandfather was only fifteen and the family had to fight to survive. His mother (my great-grandmother) had an old Turkish ice cream recipe that used the mastic resin. She would make a bucket every day that my grandfather would go out and sell in the street. It all grew from that need to survive.”