Food for Thought

Sarah Laher

I followed the mouthwatering aroma of caramelizing onions down the stairs to the kitchen where they lay sizzling in a pot of oil. My mother stands peeling potatoes over the sink remaining full of energy despite the hunger we all feel aching in our stomach.

It’s the 4th day of Ramadan, a Muslim holiday where we fast from sunrise to sunset, and the phrase “the first week is the hardest” is no stranger to me. I’d pester my mother. My griping and complaining about being hungry would last at least 20 minutes as my mother began preparing for dinner

“Sarah come help fold samosas”, my mother would yell up to me. I’d roll out of bed and lumber downstairs to see my brother and sister sitting at the kitchen table already a few samosas in. They would begin by creating a pocket out of the pastry sheets and spooning in the beef and onion my mother had made earlier that day. They would then fold over the pocket multiple times until they reached the end of the pastry sheet. Then they would wet their fingers with a flour and water mixture and spread it on the last edge of the samosa to seal it. We all sat around the table folding dozens of samosas for my mother to later fry and give to friends and family. My sister and my brother laughed as my mother would chastise my brother for his sloppy folding skills. Laughter echoed through the house during our samosa making time as we slowly forgot about the hunger we felt from not having eaten all day. The only interruptions were to wash off the goopy mess the flour and water concoction left on our fingers.

After what seems like hours, sunset finally arrives. As they few trickles of sunlight melt into the horizon my house becomes alive and bustling. My mother and father put the finishing touches on the traditional dishes. My father finishes frying samosas we’d spent hours laboring over. My mother adds spices to her famous lentil soup. The scents of the food combine and complement each other as my siblings and I set the table and put out the drinks and sauces.   

We gather around the table and say a prayer before we all simultaneously break our fast by eating a date and drinking water. The sweetness of the date helps to balance your blood sugar after a day of fasting and drinking water is meant to help rehydrate you after going a day without water. We laugh and smile as we eat our long awaited dinner. Crispy flakes of the samosa wrapper fall to my plate as I take my first bite of the savory dish. I spoon the lentil and meat soup that my mother spent hours making and its sour and savory flavors bring back memories of my childhood. As I spend dinner laughing and talking with my family I am filled with gratitude. The month of Ramadan has multiple purposes but ones of the ones I reflect on most in this moment is that I am able to eat after a day of fasting. I think of all the families that go days with little to nothing to eat. Other kids my age that don’t have a home or a bed to sleep on but don’t complain about their hunger. Ramadan allows me to empathize and realize how blessed my life is. The hunger pain I feel during a day of fasting isn’t even an ounce compared to the lives of the less fortunate. And I am lucky enough to finish my day surrounded by family and food in a loving and warm home.