Ramadan is the 9th month of the Islamic calendar, which is observed by Muslims as a month of increased worship of God, primarily through fasting¹. Unlike Lent, which restricts the consumption of certain types of food, Sawm (Islamic fasting) requires abstinence from all food, drink, sexual activity and drugs (including smoking and vaping) from dawn to sunset. Breaking the fast at sunset is called Iftar.

Since the UAE is a Muslim country, society adapts to Ramadan: work hours are reduced², families break their fast together, and shops and restaurants stay open till early in the morning (with many restaurants offering pre-dawn meals at 3am!). So what happens to non-Muslims and those who don’t fast?

I’ve spent many a Ramadan in Dubai, but this time I collected multiple worthwhile experiences which I wish to share with you, through the food that I ate of course.

I’ve split this journey into 3 parts: Family, Fraternity and Forbidden Fruit. This is part 3 of that journey: Forbidden Fruit. I’ve written the post such that you can read it without having read part 1 or part 2, but if you’re interested to, then you can find them here and here respectively.

The Misfits: Falling Into Place

What does someone who doesn’t fast do in Dubai when it’s Ramadan?

The Comfort of Your Home

Back during a time when the weekend in the UAE was Thursday to Friday, it was impossible to eat food in public during Ramadan, leaving non-fasters to enjoy food in the comfort of their homes. I often did so, having a large and sugary breakfast, before pretending to be fasting once I got to school so as not to embarrass myself in front of my classmates. Occasionally, I would enjoy a snickers bar or a nature valley, in secret, before returning home early to lovely leftovers from Iftar the night before. It definitely helped that school hours are reduced during Ramadan.

The environment at school and beyond was definitely tense for non-fasters, particularly those who were Muslim. Any sight of food or drink in public, even if no act of eating or drinking was seen, would bring about intense condemnation³.

Little has changed from where I stand except that I no longer feel the need to pretend to be fasting… oh and that my breakfasts are now mostly savory: The most memorable from this trip was scrambled eggs cooked with fenugreek flavored ghee, and garnished with a lime-EVOO-mahveh sauce, served with Lebanese pita bread (khobez).

Behind (Half) Closed Doors

At some point in my life, much to my delight, the weekend changed to Friday-Saturday. Prior to this, I was miffed by the fact that I needed to sleep early on Friday, which was our family day, being my dad’s only day off. Around this time, the environment in Ramadan towards non-fasters also relaxed: it was now possible to eat in malls, but only in designated areas, such as the food court, where there would be a partition separating it from the rest of the mall.

I liked that system a lot as it catered to everyone: if you were fasting, you could enjoy the mall without the sight of food (though if you were sharp-nosed, your tummy would have been rumbling at the scent of KFC, which it seems, wherever you are in the world, always smells the same and has a long reach). If you were a non-faster like me, then you could enter the designated area for eating and enjoy a meal with your friends (though it must be said that the curious eyes of the security guards around the gates of the food court always made me feel a bit of shame).

During this trip I had an eerily similar experience. I was attending a meeting, in an environment where everyone was fasting. Suddenly, I got a subtle nod from my partner in crime: our food had arrived. I hinted that I would be there soon, and so my partner rushed to set the table behind closed doors (not too dissimilar to the barricades in the food courts). It took me a while to excuse myself from the meeting. Where do you need to go, they asked? I didn’t say a word, but my body betrayed me, and they understood that I was going to sin. I excused myself, unashamed, though my body suggested otherwise, as I awkwardly left the office and snuck towards the dining room. As I opened the door, the lovely aromas of Haneeth invaded the main hall. I hastily shut the door to trap the aromas, but it was clear that the stench of shame was there to stay.

The meal was wonderful. The shank was tender and well marbled throughout. It paired very well with the rice, which was fragrant and flavorful.

Loud and Proud

Finally, around three years ago, the UAE decided to change its weekend to Saturday-Sunday, to be in line with foreign markets. This also coincided with loosened attitudes towards eating in public during Ramadan. I was amazed to see on this trip that so many restaurants, even those with outdoor seating, were fully operational with diners enjoying their food openly.

I did so myself on this trip, at Tashas (a restaurant that has been recommended to me by everyone and their mother). I was thoroughly impressed with my meal: a pickled beetroot salad with a base of couscous and spinach, topped with a generous serving of feta cheese, and garnished with perfectly caramelized onions and roasted hazelnuts. While I’m normally disappointed with couscous and spinach in a salad because of how overpowering they are, I must admit that they were used very well here: every bite was giving me a bit of something that I wanted to try again, so I kept going for more. The only strange thing in this salad was the choice of roasted hazelnuts. My mind struggles to place them in the savory category, so they never ceased to surprise me every time they crept up in my mouth. Almonds would have been preferable to me.

I also ordered some chicken on the side for extra protein, which was a delight given that it was fairly tender, despite it being a cut of breast.

After my meal, I read a few chapters of Bourdain’s Kitchen Confidential and watched the endless stream of cars flow through this bustling city.

The Wretched: Carrying the Weight of the Earth

Last time I was in Dubai, I was offered a delicacy: the heart and brain of palm.

The heart is comprised of long cylinder-like structures that have a soft, but crunchy texture. As you bite through it, you notice the fibers breaking down into your mouth, releasing a sugary juice that coats all your taste glands. The outer layer feels a bit different to the core: similar to the outer layer of celery, which is hardened by its exposure to the outside world.

The brain… the brain is unlike anything else that I’ve tried. It is homogenous in structure, comprised of tiny fibers that break uniformly as you chew. In that way, it is similar to the white bits of coconut, but much softer and yet more crunchy. The chew is very similar to that of a carrot that has been ever so slightly softened by heat, where it still retains most of its crunch, but is no longer hard. Unlike the softened carrot though, the brain of palm is very sweet, though not sickening because of the texture of the fibers, and their ever so slight bitterness.

That lovely culinary experience imprinted on me an insatiable desire to find it again. In this selfish pursuit, I glimpsed a sliver of how this delicacy, this forbidden fruit, is prepared for consumption. Those who produce it carry the weight of the Earth.

Surgical Strikes

We went to a market just outside of Dubai, seeking this delicacy. The first shop we saw was selling it prepackaged, and in our excitement we went for the purchase. This later turned out to be a mistake, as the produce was not fresh.

A few stops later we saw a shop that had a few dead palm trees lying on the side. Intrigued, we asked what this was about. The guy running a store, a handsome, skinny but strong fella and an avid salesman insisted on selling us some. We weren’t interested, we told him. We’d just bought some from the other store, and didn’t need more.

He was really good at his job. Kept us talking, while deftly handing pre-cut heart of palm to those in our group who were less adept at the art street dealing. Moments later, we were hooked to the ferocity, precision and speed with which he was hacking at the palm tree.

Forbidden Fruit

Like a charcutier, he’d carved out the nicest cuts of meat: the heart and brain of the palm. As he was finishing up, he offered us pieces of the forbidden fruit: cuts that, were I to stay true to my obsessiveness with hygiene, I would have immediately thrown away.

But, Bourdain’s words rang loudly in my head: “Your body is not a temple, it’s an amusement park. Enjoy the ride”.

I gave in to my lustful temptations.

Departing Dubai

The last meal of this trip was in the air. My choice of lunch was the beef goulash with mashed potato and roast veggies. Compared with the meal I had on my way to Dubai, this was disappointing. The vegetables truly embodied their name and the mashed potato was utterly flavorless. The side dish was a celery and apple salad. While this sounded promising, it was far too sweet for my liking.

As I had this last meal, I reflected on this trip of mine to Dubai. I’m immensely grateful for the time I spent with my family and for seeing community, support during struggle and fraternity. However, life is always bittersweet, for I can taste the bitterness in the fibers of the brain of palm, in the roasted beans of coffee and the cocoa of chocolate.

Hell is where I am destined to be, not for skipping fasting mind you, but for enjoying forbidden fruit.

1. While Ramadan is mostly synonymous with fasting (to Muslims and non-Muslims alike), the core idea is closeness to God, which includes increased reflection, reading of religious scripture and stories, giving back to the community and thinking of those who have less. ↩︎
2. This is typically the case for white-collar jobs only. ↩︎
3. A particularly strong memory of mine is being scolded by an older student simply because I was walking on the school grounds with a closed water bottle in hand. ↩︎