On weddings, food and Heinz 57

Reflections on global family culture

the happy couple

As brother fights brother elsewhere in the world this weekend, locally, one of my granddaughters married in the Muslim tradition of Nikah. Thanks to all those on LinkedIn who sent messages. It was heartwarming to my family. In that context I want to share more context.

In our local culture, a Nikah takes place in two locations. The men attend mosque while the women are usually at the house of the future father and mother-in-law. The bride’s father runs between mosque and house providing what appears to non-Muslims like a running commentary but is in fact an Islamic contractual ritual.

Once the Nikah is complete, the groom meets his new wife at the house. Everyone gets together at the house to share food prepared by the groom’s family and to snap a seemingly endless stream of photos. Later in the year, a more informal and much larger event will take place at one of the many banqueting suites in our area.

Rich or poor - and around here, most Asians are far from wealthy - the women go to extraordinary lengths to dress in their best clothes, putting on a glamorous show worthy of any catwalk.

Reflecting on what happened, a few things struck me as especially endearing about Muslim traditions as practised in this region of the U.K. Both at weddings and at the two Eids each year, Muslim women spend small (and sometimes not so small) fortunes on new clothes. While they won’t openly admit to competition, I sense there is a strong competitive element to see who can outshine others both in terms of the sparkling finery they wear and the attendant bling. They all look glamorous and for me, serve as a terrific advertisement for the beauty of what it means to be a Muslim woman in modern British society.

henna hands

Then there’s the application of henna on both the hands and feet of the bride. These symbolise protection but also serve a medicinal effect designed to help keep the bride cool and stress free. She is, after all, the centre of attention for several hours, something that doesn’t always come easy to Muslim women.

Finally there’s the food. Regular readers will know I’m a student of cooking and enjoy making Asian dishes for my Asian family. I can’t compete with those brought up on traditional Indian, Bengali or Pakistani cuisines but I do my best and the family are polite enough to tell me I do a decent job. Suffice to say that the meat and sweet dishes I tasted were awesome while the biryani was mind blowing.

There’s an important twist. Islam teaches that an important part of life is to feed the poor. That explains why there is always far too much food at a Nikah. We had enough takeaway for four additional meals.

Coincidentally, on the day before the Nikah, I was catching up with Latif Inspired on YouTube. The last few episodes catalogue the food adventure of an ex-pat Bengali restauranteur from the U.K. who returned to his home town near the capital of Bengal. A couple of the videos showed the men in his family cooking and distributing meals for hundreds of the poor. (See example above.)

The kitchen was a traditional outdoor fire pit, built for the occasion. The food was simple yet nourishing. None of the ingredients were measured with any of the precision to which I am accustomed. It was all done by eye, taste and an obvious love for the task at hand.

To Muslims, the tradition of sharing in a family’s bounty isn’t just a precept, it’s a blessing. It’s partly why I enjoy cooking for others. There are few things in life more satisfying than feeding hungry mouths and seeing the pleasure it brings.

Of course Muslims are not alone in their generosity or caring for others. We’ve seen that across the world, almost always among people who have little.

I recall with fondness the time we were invited into a Spanish neighbour’s family home while taking our dog for a walk. Why? A granddaughter had just been baptised, the family was celebrating in the part built garage, and the grandparents wanted to share their joy. There was no roof on the garage, just a tarp.

It was quite the party with fresh olive oil from back yard trees, cigars from Cuba and Dominica. Wine came from Rioja (where else?) with (near) local black pig hams, the all too delicious bacalao and a brandy I swear came from a hidden still. Even the dog got fed.

When we weren’t dancing or eating, we sat on rickety fold up chairs. And all this hosted by a family where the main breadwinners (sic) were unemployed at the time. Friends from other countries tell similar stories.

Forget the internet and social media. What I’ve described represents the kind of shared experience that reminds us that we are globally connected.

‘My girls’ and the groom. the Heinz 57 crew.

All of which brings me to my ‘Heinz 57’ moment. As I’ve said on many occasions and can be seen in the photo above, I am part of a multi-national, ethnically diverse family. We have different religious beliefs - or none at all. Some are openly gay. We come in all shapes and sizes and we work in both service and manufacturing industries. A good number are in the health sector as low paid community support workers. They love their jobs. We often disagree. Squabbles are common.

But then on occasions like a Nikah, at Eid or Christmas, I am reminded of the deep bonds of love and affection that are shared among us all. Most commonly through food. In that, I am truly blessed.

Finally, while I am not a Muslim, (I keep a copy of the Koran in my nightstand) there is something especially comforting in the universal Muslim greeting: Salaam-Alaikhoum (as we say it) which means ‘peace be to you’ and the response Alaikhoum-Salaam or ‘and to you be peace.’ Its depth of meaning beats the crap out of just saying ‘Hello.’