Coincidence in Squirrel Hill

You are running out of time. Your last chance. At least for a month. You should make use of it. Show solidarity. Compassion.
What it is? Yet another food story. But this time connected to something higher. It is Wednesday, you and a few people from school are planning on having dinner together. But not just a regular one. Tomorrow, with sunrise, the Muslim month of fasting, Ramadan, starts. Self-discipline, concentration. And enormous dinners.

One of the people affected by Ramadan is Imran from Mumbai (Bombay). With a dynamic curl above his forehead and his smart face he looks a bit like the subcontinent’s answer to Tintin. But without a dog. He is a fasting veteran, but now he is slightly anxious about the longer daylight period here in Pittsburgh compared to his hometown.
He has chosen a restaurant in Squirrel Hill. The second most popular part of town after Shadyside. Vivid, with shops, cafés, a movie theater and many food places. Among the culinary diversity, he selected a Lebanese place, recommended by a friend. If Lebanon was listed on the stock market, it should consider suing for copyright infringement. Because the quality of the food offered does not match the reputation of the Lebanese-middle-eastern cuisine. Especially not according to your standards, after tasting original Arabic dishes in Jerusalem and Ramallah just half a year ago.

As an appetizer, the four of you share an Arabic platter. Besides Imran and you, Mayowa – a Nigerian, fond of meat dishes, and Pallavi – a vegetarian Indian girl, are present. Three nationalities, three religions – Islam, Hinduism, Christianity. And one consensus regarding the food:
In Germany, if the food is too salty, one says that the cook is in love. But what emotional situation matches the excessive use of vinegar? Tabooleh, a parsley-tomato salad should be a little sour, ok. But the hummus, a chick pea paste, and Tahin, a sesame paste? And where are the obligatory falafels, deep-fried vegetarian patties? The entrées are a bit reconciling: Moussakka, Shish Kebab, lamb pita wrap. You don’t stay long in the windowless basement-restaurant. The stairs down from the street level where also a culinary regression, caustically speaking. This place will see you again as customers as much as it gets daylight.

So up for a dessert. Right at the corner is Coldstone, an ice-cream place of the unusual kind. The ice-cream is homemade, thick and flavorful. It is sitting in big pots, waiting for customers. The usual machine-made soft ice-cream, bland and watery, is no match for that. What is special about this place is the fact that a huge scoop of ice-cream is put on a cooled marble plate (hence the name), flattened out and a mixed with sweet stuff like chocolate splinters by literally beating and turning the cold chunk. The enormous portions are sufficient to cool down your body temperature permanently. Mayowa and you settle for a milk shake, respectively a frozen yogurt shake. Real shakes, not the ‘air shakes’ that they serve you in Germany. The ice-cream masters behind the counter are all African Americans, what a contrast to Europe, where you are often served by people of Italian origin. Here, the crew wears T-shirts reading “Friends don’t let friends eat grocery ice-cream”.

After leaving the ice (cream) cave, you are amidst an increasing flow of nicely dressed people on the sidewalk. They are leaving the synagogues. Because tomorrow, Thursday, coinciding with the start of Ramadan, is the Jewish New Year’s holiday, Rosh Ha Shanah. According to the tradition, the day starts after sunset and so the religious celebrations start the evening before the actual calendar date. Squirrel Hill is the center of Jewish life in Pittsburgh with dozens of Jewish institutions like synagogues, schools and shops.

On your way to the car you pass another gathering, a non-religious one. Some skater youth have found two outlets in the exterior wall of a building. Two plugged in laptops play music and let the kids surf the internet, creating a spontaneous party. Of course without alcohol. Left alone the legal drinking age of twenty-one, public consumption of alcoholic beverages is prohibited in Pennsylvania. What a comparison to Cologne, where it is more than normal for young people to have their drink of choice with them when enjoying summer nights in parks and public squares.
But the local liquor laws do not matter to Imran. As a Muslim, he is fasting alcohol twelve months a year.