To my mother, these foods are familiar and comforting, reminders of many iftars and Ramadans come and gone. To me, they represent connections to a community I don’t quite have access to at the moment, but I’m nevertheless a part of. Each of these foods have, in essence, been passed down to me by my larger Muslim family through the stories I hear, giving me a taste of life in the Middle East and keeping me connected to my relatives during Ramadan, despite the distance.
I hope to someday have the privilege of spending Ramadan in the Middle East with my extended family. For now, the food is enough. Until that happens—if it ever happens—the food will have to stand in for all the parts of Ramadan that I’ve never had the fortune to experience: the community celebration, a city-wide sense of excitement, the sense of belonging. For now, the food is enough.
