Pastries and Understanding

Earlier this year, I celebrated Ramadan for the first time with my girlfriend. It was a special moment for the both of us, and the first night we broke fast I couldn’t stop thinking about how grateful I was for food, love, and the glasses of water we both downed as soon as the sun set. This year, she’s celebrating Christmas for the first time with my family, and I’ve been preparing her by watching a stream of classic movies and picking out our very first tree together. During the holidays, I’ve been reflecting on what a privilege it is for both of us to be introduced to new aspects of our culture, so much of which revolves around family and food. It’s reminded me of a time, a few months ago, when we shared a funny learning experience with each other – even though it took a little while for me to get there.

Two weeks into my girlfriend and I dating, I asked her if she wanted to meet my mom (Yes, this actually IS a totally normal and chill thing to do). She was thrilled and immediately wanted to bring something over for the visit. She asked if I could pick something up for her while I was downtown, and I decided to call her when I passed a French bakery to let her know what they had in store. On the phone I described the eight different types of miniature cakes they had on display.

“Ok, can you get one of each?” she asked.

“Um…” I paused, “it’s just going to me you, me, and her – why do we need eight??”

“Nina you can get all of them, that’s okay with me. I’ll be paying you back anyway.”

“No - I’m not getting eight pastries for the three of us.”

This continued for a little while, as the barista behind the counter waited for me to finish my conversation with a slightly bewildered look on his face. After a few minutes of back and forth, I finally gave in and got one of each. I frustratedly paid, wondering why she wanted to bring so many cakes over to meet my mom.

I come from a very no-frills family. Everyone is very casual, and rarely do we bring food to other people’s houses if we are just going to hang out. My mom has always been one to provide the food for others when it’s a gathering centered around a meal, inviting countless friends of mine to stay over for holiday dinners, but we don’t typically have snacks out on countertop unless it’s asked for. I was worried that in seeing my girlfriend bring over an abundance of sweets she would be… confused. Would she think it was too much? Would she be worried that she didn’t have anything for us? Would she wonder what she was going to do with all the leftovers?

The day came and went smoothly, and while my mom was definitely surprised with her gift of many tiny cakes, she appreciated the sentiment. My mom offered to let me take home the leftover cakes, and when I said yes, my girlfriend couldn’t stop herself from staring at me with her mouth wide open before adamantly telling my mother to keep all of them. On the car ride home, I felt a little bit confused as we both shared a moment of disbelief between each other.

Fast forward to September of this year. My girlfriend had an invitation to reconnect with an old friend, and we excitedly prepared to go over her and her boyfriend’s house for coffee. None of our other friends had a legitimate “house” yet (with multiple stories, a tiny front yard, and a garage?!), and we walked in feeing immediately welcomed by them both. To my surprise, there was a spread of food out on the table. Laid out in front of us were bowls of dried fruit and nuts, bread and hummus, and eggs cooking on the stove. Her friend made us homemade lattes with her espresso machine and patiently taught us how to froth our own milk. I felt a familiar twinge of shyness - I wondered, do they think that we expect something this extravagant? I hope they know they didn’t have to do all of this just for us.

We chatted about work and life, listened to a record playing, and just as we were sitting down to eat, the kind hostess walked over to the full table with a box.

Inside of it were six pastries.

When we were leaving, I couldn’t get over how generous they were. It was almost unbelievable to me, this kind of hospitality that came so naturally and openly. I brought this up to my girlfriend, but she seemed a little confused. The more I talked about how surprised and flattered I was, it became clear to her that I didn’t understand that this was a completely normal situation for them. Although they are Pakistani, Syrian, and Iranian, my girlfriend and her friends share commonalities when it comes to community, generosity, and food that transcend their geographical or familial differences.

“That’s just what we do,” she said, “That’s how we all grew up, always having food available for our guests and never showing up empty handed.”

Something inside of me clicked after our experience at their house, and I thought back to the eight-pastry argument when she came to visit my mom for the first time. While I always knew that showing warmth was second nature to my girlfriend, it suddenly made sense to me why she saw this gesture as an obvious thing to do. I learned that what she did for my mom was a genuine expression of care that was taught to her as an expectation and a sign of respect.

Needless to say, I’ve apologized for my frustration in that moment at the pastry shop. I’ve replaced my ignorance for a feeling of gratitude and awe that makes me care about my girlfriend and her culture even more than I did before. She’s taught me a new way of showing love with full bowls of dates and pistachios, by offering a plate of food to anyone who walks through the front door, and having the kettle pre-warmed for tea before the guests arrive.