Introduction from Imad's Syrian Kitchen, by Imad Alarnab [published by HarperCollins]. Imad is a renowned chef from Damascus who now runs an acclaimed restaurant in London.
In Syria, the summer goes on for three months. It's always hot, every day. Blue skies and a perfect sun, you can count on it. I didn't pay attention to the weather when I lived in Syria, at all. Unless it was something special. But it was something special. It was so special. I realise that now. I didn't appreciate my bed until we had to shift from one place to another, sleeping on a two-seater couch or on the floor, or outside in the streets. But I appreciated it then. None of us fully appreciate what we have until it's taken away from us. We think it will stay like this forever, but I know now that it can all be lost.
In 2009, my biggest concern was where we would spend our next summer holiday. Or how we were going to celebrate my daughter's birthday, or where I was going to expand my restaurants to outside of Damascus. At that time, I ran three successful restaurants in Damascus, as well as juice bars and cafes around the city. I lived with my wife and three young daughters, with our family all around us. My children were doing well in school, we took trips to the countryside for picnics, we went to the cinema or out to dinner with friends, we celebrated marriages and graduations and promotions at work. We were happy. Things were entirely normal and there was no way I thought that would ever change. But then, of course, everything changed.
WHAT IS A REFUGEE?
My name is Imad Alarnab, and I was a refugee, an asylum seeker, a displaced person, an illegal immigrant. What does that make you think of? Be honest. Does it make you think of people deciding one day to leave their home country for a more exciting job or better opportunities elsewhere? Do you think of smugglers helping people enter other countries in the backs of lorries and on overcrowded boats in the middle of the night? Do you think of thousands of people crashing onto coastlines all around the world to take advantage of the citizens and governments there? I made that journey from Syria to the UK that you've all heard about – on foot, on trains, with false ID, crammed into the back of cars, sleeping outside afraid for my life – and I can tell you, we are all just like you. We didn't 'choose' to leave, it was not a decision any of us came to lightly. Every single one of us was forced. We had no choice. We fled our homes that we loved because we were no longer safe, or because our homes had been destroyed. Our families were in danger and we had to do what we could to keep them safe. What would you have done? We don't want to travel illegally. We don't want to take advantage of anything or anyone; we want to be part of a community, to work, to play our role in society again. We are all just like you.
On 27 July 2015 1 hugged my family goodbye in Syria. Three months later I arrived in the UK, in October 2015. Leaving my wife and children behind, knowing the risks, was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. But I knew this was our only real chance at safety long term. My children were young, too young to make the journey with me; there were too many dangers ahead, too many unknowns. People often ask why I was intent on getting to the UK, why I wouldn't stop in Greece or Germany or somewhere else along the way. I had family in the UK, my sister, my aunt and cousins, and I spoke the language already. Learning a new language is hard when you are older, and you need to speak it well to be able to work, and I wanted to work, I've always worked hard. Getting to the UK would mean my family could join me, we could all be safe, together again. I was scared about what might happen to me, but imagining the future if we stayed in Syria was even more terrifying.
When I left Syria, my eldest daughter was very emotional. She was frightened for me, for herself and her sisters. She asked me to promise that we'd see each other within a year. And in that moment, I didn't know what else to do but to tell her 'yes', even though I wasn't sure how or if this was even remotely possible. I didn't really even believe it myself. But on 26 July 2016 – a year to the day since I'd last seen them – I was hugging my family again, this time in the arrivals hall at Heathrow Airport. It was a surreal, unbelievable moment. Surely some kind of miracle. And then, in December 2022, six years later, we were granted our UK citizenship.
The journey to get here has been long, and often painful both physically and mentally. It has been fraught with anxiety and many, many obstacles. I have lost people close to me, and I miss so much about my old life. But I know that the life I used to have is gone now, it simply isn't there anymore, and hasn't been for a long time. I am so, so lucky to have been given a new life here in London. The people of the UK have welcomed me, and I feel at home once again.
I am so proud of what I have achieved here. I am so proud of Imad's Syrian Kitchen, and of all the support and love people show it and me and my food. I want my journey to be looked upon as positive and encouraging for others, to show what can be achieved. But I also want people to know that it has not been an easy one. It's not only my story; it's for all of us who have had to leave our homes, who have been scared, who have struggled, who have felt alone and abandoned at times. I want to share my story so that people understand what we have all been through to get to where we are today. It's been very difficult, but as well as all the hatred and violence, I have been shown so much love. Having lost all faith in everything, I regained my belief in people during my journey, and I want everyone to know that. I want my story to reach as many people as possible. With the support of good people, with an honest heart, you can achieve incredible things.
FROM A CARWASH TO CARNABY STREET
As unlikely as it may sound, it was as a refugee stranded in Calais for sixty-four days that I started to find myself again. It sounds hard to believe, but that was the point at which I began to rediscover hope. We'd been donated a small hotplate, and I was able to cook. We'd pick up leftover ingredients from local cafes or supermarkets and I'd make meals for as many as 400 people a day! It gave us all comfort, and for me it was a taste of home, a reminder of who I was. It reignited my passion, gave me purpose – and it gave me the courage to believe that things could improve. Cooking brings people together, it unites us all. And with the help of so many generous people, I've been lucky to be able to explore my love of food again, to share it with others. Honestly, nothing brings me more happiness than seeing people enjoying food I have cooked for them.
When I first arrived in the UK, I found work illegally in a carwash, getting cars ready to be sold. I slept there too, as an overnight security guard. I hated it. I hate cars! But I needed to work, to support myself and my family in Syria. I was a good salesman, though, and when I could work legally, I had a brief career selling the used cars I used to clean. But even though I was good at it, it wasn't where my heart lay. I thought about working in a restaurant instead, but even though I didn't love working at the garage, I knew I couldn't work in someone else's kitchen, to be cooking someone else's food or giving away my recipes. I did try at the very beginning. I went for an interview, but instead of seeing me cook or asking me about my experience, the owner asked me to empty and clean his van, then told me I didn't look like a chef and let me go. I went back to his restaurant after my pop-up had been featured in the newspapers and I saw in his eyes that he regretted it!
All throughout my life, but especially on my journey from Syria's warzone to my home in the UK today, I've been blessed by meeting the most amazing people, guardian angels looking out for me when I've needed them the most. How I came to open Imad's Syrian Kitchen starts with one of those angels, a woman called Toni. Once my family had joined me in 2016, we moved to a rented house in High Wycombe where we lived for a year. Toni was very active in supporting local communities, including assisting refugees, and she'd heard about a project called Cook for Syria, which helped raise money for UNICEF's Children in Syria Fund. She came to me and said, "I've been to your house, I've eaten your food, I know what you used to do back in Damascus. Would you like to be a part of Cook for Syria?" "YES!" Of course, I did. So, in January 2017, she introduced me to another amazing woman called Layla Yarjani and within a few weeks she'd started inviting people to mine for dinner. She'd call me and say, "There will be five people eating at your house in two days, will you be ready?" She introduced me to a PR company who are still my PR company today and from that moment on everything changed for me. Laila phoned me one day and asked "What are you doing on 9 March? You're running a pop-up restaurant in east London." Imad's Syrian Kitchen, the pop-up, ran for two weeks on Columbia Road, where the flower market is. All the ticketing and booking was organised, and the media contacted. A logo was designed. It was a dream come true.
The pop-up was supposed to be just a dinner each evening, but it was so popular that tickets sold out within 24 hours, and we ended up having two evening sittings and two Sunday lunches. I couldn't believe it. After that, I did pop-ups all over London, and catered for private dinners, weddings and parties, here and in Ibiza, Paris and Germany. But of course my ultimate dream was to have a permanent location, and in early 2020, Asma Khan – chef and owner of the Darjeeling Express, who had become a friend during this time – told me about an available space on Carnaby Street. And, so, on 19 May 2021, Imad's Syrian Kitchen, the restaurant, opened its doors,
Nothing will compare to the feeling of that moment, of course – it was everything to me. It meant I had roots, that I belonged somewhere again. But cooking on the steps of that church in Calais, where I'd slept night after night, was where it had really all begun. The first stage of my new life. To cook for people was enough to remind me that this was the right path for me, it was what I was meant to do. I want to cook my food and make people happy. I forever want to hear people say that this is the best falafel they have ever eaten!
And that's what this book is for: to share my story, but also to share my recipes that have meant so much to me. Like me, they have travelled and evolved, influenced by what they have been through, adjusted and changed, but always staying true to their beginnings. These are the recipes I love, they are for you to enjoy as though I am making them for you in your home.
OUR NEW BEGINNING
When my family first came to the UK, my youngest daughter was six years old. In the car from the airport, her first question to me was how many police barriers there were between here and home. Her second question was how many hours of electricity do we have in the UK? And her third was for how many hours do we have water? I don't want my children to forget any of these things. I want them to appreciate what they have now, to know how lucky they are. But I also don't want them to be emotionally affected by what they have been through. I want their experiences to be encouraging and to inspire them to reach high for what they want to achieve, to have the confidence to follow their passions and realise their dreams. I don't want what they have been through to go on affecting them in the way it still affects me sometimes today.
Often, I wake up with a start in the middle of the night and say to myself, "Oh god, my mother will be so angry with me because I haven't spoken to her for so long!" and then I remember. When I heard she had died, I was living in a caravan on my own in west London. I had been in the UK for 50 days. I couldn't speak to her on the phone beforehand, or see her or go back to Syria to say goodbye. My Damascus died in 2012, and like my mother she'll never come back. I can dream about her, talk about her, think about her – but I'll never see her again in real life. And although I don't have closure over either my mother or my Damascus, I now have a new beginning for me, and for my family. I hope both my mother and my Damascus are looking down on me and are proud of me and of my daughters. I have fallen in love with London. London welcomed us in to be part of it, it made us feel at home, and I hope we will make London and the UK people proud too.
.... [and from the final chapter] I have been made to feel so welcome by the people I've met all along my journey. It has rebuilt my faith in humanity, in the innate goodness of people all over the world. But I don't feel like our governments, our leaders, the media are on our side. They are part of the problem, not the solution. There are so many people who are trying so hard to be positive against the whole world, and we need to join together, not make more divisions.