The fire started in the kitchen of flat 16 on the fourth floor of Grenfell Tower, a 24-story block in west London. Ethiopian-born Behailu Kebede had lived there for almost 25 years. Just before 1 a.m. on June 14, 2017, his smoke alarm shrieked, and he discovered smoke coming from behind his refrigerator-freezer. He called the fire department and ran up and down the floor to alert his neighbors. But smoke seeped through the building, and flames engulfed it. It was home to possibly as many 350 people. Many were Muslims celebrating Ramadan and may have either been away at the time or awake breaking their Ramadan fast and able to escape—even though residents were told to stay put. Still, over 70 people died. An inquiry into the disaster, called “Britain’s deadliest on domestic premises since the Second World War,” found that the building’s faulty construction invited a catastrophe. It took nearly 24 hours for the fire to burn itself out.
Meghan Markle, now HRH The Duchess of Sussex, moved to London the following January. She hoped to help somehow and quietly visited Al-Manaar. The mosque near the Grenfell community had opened its kitchen so women displaced by the fire could come and cook for their families. It evolved as a place where they could break through cultural boundaries, sip tea, grieve, share stories, and do life together. But the kitchen lacked funding to open more than two days a week. What emerged from the duchess’ visit is a cookbook. Together: Our Community Cookbook by The Hubb Community Kitchen is a testament to friendship and connection.
The Duchess notes in her foreword:
“It is cozy and brightly lit with scents of cardamom, curry and ginger dancing through the air.” She goes on to say that the recipes represent a “melting pot of cultures and personalities” from over 15 countries, including Uganda, Iraq, Morocco, India, Russia and others. She promises you will leave “stuffed to the gills with samosas flecked with cinnamon, chapatis flavored with carrots and onion, Russian seminola cake, Persian teas and my very favorite avocado dip that I now make at home.”
“Within this kitchen’s walls,” she writes, “there exists not only the communal bond of togetherness through sharing food, but also a cultural diversity that creates what I would describe as a passport on a plate: the power of a meal to take you to places you’ve never been, or transport you right back to where you came from.” Ultimately, the Duchess concludes, “these recipes aren’t simply meals; they are stories of family, love, of survival and of connection.”
In the cookbook, resident Intlak Alsaiegh shares a recipe for Kubba Haleb (Iraqui Lamb Croquettes). “I’ve … seen the power of food in creating a welcoming atmosphere,” she writes. “People of different nationalities are sometimes fearful of each other—sharing food helps them to relax and the bonds of friendship are made.” Intlak also makes Iraqui Dolma—stuffed grape leaves, though I think I myself might need to find a substitute for ground lamb. The recipe calls for three tablespoons of pomegranate molasses. Now that sounds tasty.
I really want to try Cherine Mallah’s Baghrir & Amlou (Moroccan Pancakes with Honey & Almond Butter), a recipe that calls for culinary argan oil. She also makes Atayef (Ricotta-filled Pancakes with Orange Blossom Syrup) and adds crushed pistachios. Oh my! Munira Mahmud makes Mahamri (African Beignets) with cardamom and shares her recipe for Vegetable Samosas. She writes, “Grenfell was a real community and my neighbor Rania and I used to party with food all the time. The first time I made these samosas for her, she ate ten of them. Really!”
I might have to make Sanna Mirz’s Zereshk Polo ba Morgh (Persian Chicken with Barberry Rice) just to smell it. The recipe calls for saffron, crushed rose petals, cumin, and cardamom.
Leila Hedjem prefaces her recipe for Lebanese Vegetable Lasagne by writing, “In Middle Eastern Culture, cooking is a show of love—and that’s what we do here at the Kitchen.” Jennifer Fatima Odonkor, who serves her Harira (Moroccan Chickpea & Noodle Soup) with chopped dates echoes Leila, saying “Make sure that all your stirring is done with love and prayer.” It’s fitting, then, that in Arabic, the word “hubb” means “love.”
Are you feeling hungry yet? Or adventurous? The Royal Foundation dedicates part of the proceeds from the sales of this book to support the Hubb Community Kitchen in London and help keep it open for up to seven days a week, expand its reach to others in the community, and help continue to change lives through the power of food.
Every dish tells a unique story of history, culture and family, personally introduced by the women on each page. These memories remind us that Together is more than a cookbook; it is a storybook of a West London community and how the act of cooking together has helped them to connect, heal and look forward. At the heart of this book is the message that a simple, shared dish can create connections between people, restore home and normality, and provide a sense of home—wherever you may be in the world.
A kitchen fire tore peoples’ lives apart. Now it’s the fire of friendships forged in a kitchen that’s bringing them back together. I’m off to make a menu and a grocery list.
For discussion: How has the cooking and/or sharing of food helped you or others through a time of adversity? Do you have a memory of a particular dish that is meaningful to you?
Photo by Sonia Joie, used with permission. Post by Sandra Heska King.
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L.L. Barkat says
Oh, now. This makes me glad I have a pot of leftover dal on the stove, beside a pot of fragrant-spiced rice.
This cookbook is going on my wish list! 🙂
(Love the story behind it, Sandra. Love the telling.)
Sandra Heska King says
Yummy.
It’s so good to see something so tragic birthing something so good. I can’t wait to cook up some of these recipes as soon as all the holiday leftovers are over. The cookbook itself is a beauty to page through.
Laura Brown says
All this, just from a mosque opening its kitchen so displaced people had a place to cook. Thanks for telling us about this, Sandra, and the invitation to think about community-building around food.
Of course when someone dies, people provide food, and we had a houseful when my dad died. On my drive back home from West Virginia to Arkansas, I met a friend who was also grieving the loss of a parent for a late lunch and tender conversation at a tea house in Cincinnati. A friend in Nashville cooked breakfast for me when I stayed at her house. Friends in Memphis fed me barbecue and slaw when I passed through on the drive home. The friends who’d cared for my cat while I was away left cooked pork roast, roast potatoes and vegetables, and a bunch of elementary-school milk pints in my fridge for my arrival. And a coworker made me a pan of vegetarian lasagna, salad, and lemon squares. It was a chain of my community, caring for me well.
Sandra Heska King says
You are well fed in more ways than one.
I was thinking about funerals today, Laura. And food trains when someone is ill or just brought home a baby. And meals brought by a new neighbor served up on moving boxes.
We stopped at Donna and Joe Falcone’s home in South Georgia on our move to Florida. She served up lunch and tea that tasted like love and all the M&Ms I could eat.
Our kids and families from St. Augustine and Michigan were here over the last ten days. I had requests for “Grandpa’s pancakes” and my blueberry muffins–I guess in order to have a little taste of home even though we are all regularly separated by so many miles.
Bethany R. says
(I bought lemon square mix at the store today and will make it tomorrow for a friend. Thanks for sharing this, Laura.)
Sandra Heska King says
Yum. Now I’m craving something lemony. For me. 😉
Bethany R. says
Thank you for sharing this with us, Sandra, I can’t begin to imagine what the people there have been through.
There is something about cooking and eating that gives us a chance to let down and listen to our own thoughts and those in the kitchen with us.
(I would love to try the Atayef.)
Laura Brown, thanks for sharing your experience of receiving food-hugs like lemon squares.
Sandra Heska King says
“food hugs” 🙂
I can’t imagine either, Bethany. I’m sure you remember my daughter lost her home and most of its contents a couple years back. The oldest grand girl was home alone, but thankfully she escaped. The shell of that house was in our view for a year. I can’t imagine having to see this towering black shell day after day–nor the lives lost or their families imagining their endings. Some left phone messages. Horrifying.
And I can’t decide whether to try the Atayef or the Baghrir & Amlou first. 🙂
Bethany says
I’m so terribly sorry your family went through that, Sandra. I have no words for what these victims and their loved ones have endured.
Sandra Heska King says
You are so dear, Bethany. It was traumatic for sure—me trying to run across the mucky cornfield in the rain and seeing the window explode and not knowing if the girls were in or out. But good came from it in spite of pictures and mementoes and other stuff that was lost. We eventually gave the house (a modular) to a lady who hauled it away and gutted and cleaned it to put on her property for her mother-in-law. Abby and the girls lived with us for several months, and she ended up fixing up a rental house we had that my inlaws had built on a creek a few miles south of us. When D went on ahead to Florida, we girls were living basically in two construction zones. It was a time of re-bonding and strength-building for both of us. A real dry-wall-dusted adventure. And we could celebrate life.
But all this loss is unfathomable. But now there’s the kitchen and the community and the friendships and now a push for better social living laws. I wonder if there will eventually be some kind of memorial in the tower’s place.
Cherine Mallah says
It’s a big,understandable dilemma lol but to answer your question: both have the same base (the pancake) so you could use half the batch for atayef and the other for baghrir this way you can try both at the same time 😉 that’s what I often do !
Sandra Heska King says
Cherine! How sweet to see you here! I just compared the recipes, and you are right! Thank you! Yay! If I could, I’d reach right through the screen and give you a big hug.
By the way, I’m also having fun learning how to pronounce new words. 🙂
Donna Falcone says
Sandra, this is an amazing story. I love the way you tell it – you put us right there in the fire, running up and down the hall – I can feel the panic, and I remember glimpses of the tragic fire. And the cookbook – it’s so much more than a cookbook. Thank you for filling our bowls with your words. I just love the way you tell a story.
Sandra Heska King says
“Filling our bowls with your words.” I love that. Thanks, Donna. You just fed me with your words. 🙂
But yes… this cookbook is beautiful–the stories and the photos and the recipes. Beauty from ashes.
Ann Kroeker says
Delicious, delightful. I love that phrase the Duchess uses: “a passport on a plate.”
You’ve brought us together to learn about Together, Sandra. Thank you.
Sandra Heska King says
I don’t know how I missed your comment, Ann. Thanks. And yes. I loved that phrase, too. I’ve made a couple things from this cookbook this month. 🙂
Traci says
What a gifted storyteller you are! I want to mingle in that kitchen with these women. Also, the winning combination of cookbook and rich storytelling. On my wish list as well.
Sandra Heska King says
Thank you so much, Traci! Pretty sure you’ll love the book–recipes and stories and awesome photographs.