Food is love
Easter, Passover and Ramadan coincide three times every 100 years. This weekend is one of them. Sharing love through food is how that is manifested. Here is my story.
When granddaughter No.1 invited us to Iftar (opening the Ramadan fast) yesterday we jumped at the chance.
We arrived early by taxi as we knew most taxi drivers in our area want to be home to open their fasting period. Note: we don’t have a car and it was Good Friday in the Christian calendar so buses are thin on the ground.
“Are you going home now?” I asked our driver.
“Yes,” he said with a beaming smile.
“Enjoy your time with family,” I replied.
When we arrived, some of the family were at prayers, others were scurrying around in the kitchen. I was a tad miffed I’d forgotten to take a pair of house slippers.
The aromas coming from the kitchen had me salivating in under five nanoseconds. The ‘crew’ had been cooking for hours. There was a comical moment as one of the boys counted down to Iftar. When the fast opened at 7:58pm what was served?
Lamb chops tikka style
Chaat samosas made with chickpeas
Chicken skewers with red and yellow peppers
Chicken bhuna
Potato pakoras
Chicken drumsticks
Pilau rice
Meat samosas
Various yogurt based chutneys
Fruit
There was some kind of sweet dessert but nobody got that far. As an offering, I took what I know to be a favourite - date, cardamom, orange and pistachio nankatai biscuits I’d baked the night before.
Some of us sat at a table, others on the floor. Looking around, I smiled at the fact our rainbow family of white British, mixed Asian, and Caribbean people were, for at least one brief moment, united over a shared love of food, chattering about family events to a background of soothing devotional music.
As guests we were not allowed to help in the preparation or clean up. And as is traditional among our Muslim hosts, there was more than enough food to give neighbours and make up take home boxes for those in the family who could not attend our gathering.
After the meal, some went to mosque for evening prayers and a reading from the Quran. Others took food for brothers, husbands and children. We sat and talked about more mundane matters like controlling energy costs! And other things. No.1 granddaughter asked:
“Granddad, what household job do you think men shouldn’t do?”
Quick as a flash I replied: “Cleaning the toilet.”
“Gross!”
On returning home I stumbled across and watched A Man From The Sun, a 1956 BBC docudrama that tells the experiences of those arriving to Britain from the Caribbean. The themes of racism seen through that 1956 lens are as recognisable today as they were nearly 70 years ago. Or so some of our politicians would have us believe as they stir up fear and hatred. Watching that docudrama stood in stark contrast to what we’d experienced just a few hours earlier.
From what I hear, our experience is no longer exceptional but then I wonder how often it is shared.
There is a certain irony in the fact that Muslims, Jews and Christians share a common period of observance this weekend. For me, even as an atheist, it is in the sharing of food that we find common ground, dare I say the love that people can, if they choose, to share. It’s one of the reasons I love to cook because in doing so, I find a purpose that is difficult to come by other means.
P.S. The title, food is love comes from a fellow foodie and friend who is a Hindu.
This is such a heartwarming read. Thank you for sharing
Beautifully written Den !