Iftaar is often a happy, shared repast, but preparing for the fast can be just as communal and significant, reports Fatima Asmal.
The Muslim fasting month of Ramadan began this past weekend. Wherever it’s observed around the world it’s a month of giving, and sharing, and extra prayers, earnest supplications to God and much recitation of the Qur’an.
But beyond the faith-based additions to the month, there are also specific culinary delights associated with it in different countries.
Dates and water are usually the first course on any Iftar menu, because the Prophet Muhammad instructed his followers to break their fast with these items. But beyond that, what Muslims eat at the time of breaking their fast will usually depend on their culture.
Here in South Africa, in most Indian Muslim homes, there’s haleem, a nutritious broth, with naan bread, and milkshake. And there are samoosas – lots and lots of them.
No, not the big, fat, ready-to-eat triangles overflowing with onions and oozing with oil that you can buy over the counter at many shopping malls. I’m referring to the bite-sized triangle, neatly folded to fit in the palm of one’s hand.
Or more eloquently described by Zuleikha Mayat, the editor of Indian Delights (a recipe book first published in 1961), as “the perfect triangle, bulging just enough with the filling that will not mar its shape (not bloated as if ready to burst out from casing), which needs just a tinge of chutney or drop of lemon juice”.
“Some atrocities are palmed off as samoosas,” says Mayat, who is over 80 years old, “But this is the ‘real McCoy’.” According to her, from 1930 to 1945 samoosas only featured on the Ramadan menu on special nights, and on the day of Eid ul-Fitr (breaking of the Ramadan fast).
“Slowly its popularity and improvement in finances led to its entrenchment over time as the twin of haleem,” she says.
But filling samoosas is more than just about food preparation. It’s also a tradition that brings women from different generations together to chat about the old days over a table. It’s for this reason that my cousin Fathima Simjee, a doctor, buys her mince samoosas, but makes her cheese and corn and potato ones at home.
“My mum, my nieces, my daughter and my sisters and I get together – it’s a warm and intimate social affair, where we sit and fill and listen to stories about the old days. In our modern times, it serves as a connection to our roots. It’s my idea of not losing a tradition, that’s why I do it. And filling samoosas is also an art form we don’t want to lose.”
Full report by Fatima Asmal: see Mail & Guardian
