T he smell and taste of the dishes in her parents’ kitchen first gave Zahra Ali a passion for food.
In time Ms Ali, 39, became well acquainted with European and Arabian cuisine. Yet while the idea of starting a restaurant was long in her mind, somehow the time was never right.
Then two years ago, while taking a stroll around her neighbourhood, she came across a “for sale” sign on a building in a choice location on Abu Dhabi’s Salam Street.
“I spoke to the shopkeeper immediately,” says the mother of two adult sons.
Her dream came crashing to earth when she discovered that the asking price was way beyond her means.
Then came a conversation with the owner, in which Ms Ali explained what was motivating her to open her new businesses. Suddenly, the price became more affordable.
The reason for this change was not her love of food.
Ms Ali is taking some holidays this month to spend more time at home with her sister’s three children. As you approach the house, the giggles and laughter of children can be heard.
Near the doorstep a member of the household staff, Fatima, is hard at work mixing the ingredients for luqaimat, the deep-fried doughnuts that are one of the signature dishes of the UAE.
A few minutes later, Ms Ali appears with a beaming smile, first making sure to give her guests a generous serving of luqaimat.
That done, she explains the true inspiration behind the opening of her traditional restaurant, Dar Al Bajila Wa Nakhi (House of Broad Beans and Chickpeas).
“My young sister passed away three years ago” due to a medical complication “in a local hospital,” she says.
“She left behind three children — Mahra, Saif and Abdullah.”
Ms Ali’s brother-in-law remarried and she decided the children, one of whom was physically disabled, would be better off if they came to live with her. The custody process was long and expensive.
“I took a Dh45,000 loan to pay the lawyer,” she says.
Losing their mother at such a young age meant the children experienced a great deal of emotional trauma, says Ms Ali, whose sons are in their early 20s. As their aunt she felt it was her duty to give them some much-needed stability.
“I insisted that they live with me because they were not doing well in school or their daily affairs.” she says.
It was something she wanted to do for her late sister who was an overwhelmingly affectionate woman, says Ms Ali.
“She loved her children and gave them more than they asked. She had a close relationship with her children.”
Although she admits nothing can replace her sister’s tenderness and love, Ms Ali tries her best to bring up the children the way her sister would have.
She comes from a middle-class family and her government job does not come with a high salary.
“My mother is a widow and I am also separated from my husband,” Ms Ali says.
Despite being on her own, she was determined to show strength and fight on.
“Finally, I got the custody of the children two years ago and I decided to raise them like my own,” she says.
It was during this time that Ms Ali saw the shop on Salam Street and decided to give the idea of opening a restaurant serious thought. Since she had such a good reputation as a cook, she thought, why not take her culinary skills to a larger audience?
“I took a Dh150,000 loan to buy out the lease on the shop and pay the Dh55,000 rent,” she says.
“I left the bank crying my eyes out.”
She says she had no real alternative.
“With the cost of living rising and being the breadwinner and a single mother, I was in a need of another income to fulfil the children’s needs and wants.”
Mahra, Saif and Abdullah are ushered in to the room to join their aunt. Well mannered, they sit down quietly.
“We love her a lot, she is like our mother,” says Mahra, the eldest, shyly. The 13-year-old’s eyes fill with tears when talking about her mother and her aunt.
Like her aunt, the eighth grader also likes to cook and enjoys luqaimat most.
Saif, 11, is also happy in his new home.
“He had a car accident when he was a three-year-old child, which left him paralysed,” says Ms Ali.
“He was in a government school previously and children used to beat him and he was bullied, too.
“I used Dh15,000 to switch his school three years ago to a private one and he is doing better, even though Saif doesn’t enjoy school much.”
The youngest, Abdullah, 9, also speaks highly of his aunt.
“We love her a lot because she raised us and spends on us.”
Tears are pooling in Ms Ali’s eyes as she says how much she loves the children.
Her tribute to them, her restaurant, is sandwiched between the House of Tea cafeteria and Mister Burger. It may be small but it has managed to stand out among the competition.
Customers seem to have been receptive of her cooking skills and she has impressed with new recipes and the tastiness of her dishes.
“The restaurant is doing well, thank God,” Ms Ali says. “During the summer we don’t make much profit but in winter the business is very lucrative.”
Even in the quieter weeks of July and August, customers still come. Many are fans of her breakfast menu, which includes dishes such as sweet vermicelli and eggs, the Arab flat bread regag and, of course, luqaimat.
“As you notice, the shop is very small and it can only accommodate one table and four chairs,” she says.
If she has one wish, it is for a bigger kitchen. For now, she cooks at home and sends the goods to the restaurant every other hour. She owes the bank Dh250,000, which she hopes to pay soon, but says: “I can’t take another loan to expand the kitchen, it will put me in so much pressure.”
She is hoping someone might come forward to offer her a helping hand. “I hope that whoever hears my story, stands by my side and helps me to expand this small restaurant,” she says.
aalhameli@thenational.ae
