One of my culinary highlights last year was an elaborate feast prepared by my brother and sister-in-law during my visit to Jakarta. There was no special occasion, just a shared love for food. My brother cleverly ensured that the burden of cooking didn’t fall solely on his wife, earning brownie points for his effort. As the dishes began appearing on the dining table, everyone’s eyes, even my gastronomically ambivalent parents, started gleaming. My sister-in-law, who is Arab, had skillfully blended classic Middle Eastern dishes like mandi, mansaf, and fattoush with Indian and Indonesian cooking techniques, creating a truly unique culinary experience. But was the sheer extent of the platter the sole reason for our ecstatic faces? Or was it the first time in almost two years that the entire family sat together to eat at the same table? Had my sister-in-law, intentionally or by chance, prepared dishes like mandi and kebuli to ensure we had no choice but to share, talk, and laugh together?
When I later encountered similar dishes at Sette Mara, a Middle Eastern restaurant in Mumbai’s St. Regis, prepared by chef Ahmed Fathi Albab Mhammed from Egypt, I couldn’t help but ponder the profound connection between food and relationships. The healing power of a shared plate cannot be overstated. It was especially poetic that I dined at this restaurant on the same night in June when India won the Men’s T20 Cricket World Cup. The atmosphere was electric with shared emotions: sighs when a catch was missed, and childlike squeals when Virat Kohli smashed sixes.
The Levantine lobster, requiring you to use your hands to fully savor every succulent bite, epitomized the communal nature of the meal. The moussaka, a rich eggplant-based dish with ground meat, was filling enough to savor the larger courses, particularly the majestic khepsa. This Arab invention, with its countless variations, features chunks of meat covered in fragrant rice, demanding a shared plate for optimal enjoyment. A lone diner attacking a heaping portion of khepsa would be a rather unappetizing spectacle.
The communal theme extended to the dessert, specifically the Egyptian umali – a bread pudding layered with puff pastry, generously sprinkled with nuts and raisins, and drenched in milk and cream. The simple, cotton-like texture of any pudding evokes a sense of home, and this one certainly did, and more. Its sprawling nature requires at least two people to share, if not more. But sweeter than the umali was India’s World Cup victory. Imagine the emptiness I would have felt after this feast had we lost the match. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case.
This experience served as a powerful reminder of the unifying force of food. It brings people together, fostering connection, joy, and even shared triumph. Whether it’s a family gathering in Jakarta or a celebratory meal at a Middle Eastern restaurant in Mumbai, the act of sharing food transcends mere sustenance, becoming a catalyst for lasting memories and strengthening bonds.
