Beyond Baklava
A food-backed solution for refugee empowerment BY RUQAIYAH DAMRAH AS STUDENTS SETTLED into the new school year and an autumn breeze rustled through New Haven, mid-September brought an orange dove, mid-flight with a fork and knife in its beak, to 25 Temple Street. Sunlight pooling onto its tangerine bar stools and white-washed brick walls, Havenly Treats—a new Middle Eastern restaurant—was open for business. The building itself is calm, if not austere. Arabic and Spanish conversations in the kitchen mix with Iraqi music. The aroma of Arab coffee and falafel lingers in the air. For many of its guests and employees, Havenly feels like home. “We are a mezze bar on a mission,” reads a chalkboard hanging on the wall next to the front counter. The other end of the restaurant offers clarification: above a black-andwhite painting of a woman mixing ingredients in a bowl are the words “we build economic and political power with refugee women” in English, Spanish, and Arabic. The space is home to an unlikely bunch of superheroes: some sip Iraqi cardamom tea, others blast “Despacito” from behind the counter, and many of them have chosen to don a hijab in place of the traditional cape. To passersby, Havenly Treats may seem like a quick lunch stop to grab some hummus or stuffed grape leaves. But the restaurant’s real stories lie beyond its culinary
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offerings. From a small, humble partnership between a student and a chef, the restaurant has grown into an enterprising community partnership of refugee women who prepare and sell traditional Arab dishes. Built on an understanding that everyone brings something to the table and can learn from one another, the restaurant is a testament to the power of community-building. It’s the intertwining of so many people and stories—bridging Yale and New Haven, students and refugees, cuisine and education—that makes Havenly Treats unique.
Baklava •
بقالوة
NIEDA AL-ABBAS, Havenly’s Head Chef, had long dreamt of opening a restaurant. Now, she is in the kitchen, rolling out sheets of phyllo dough, while directing the other women as they prepare tabbouleh and tzatziki salad. al-Abbas, a refugee from Iraq, speaks Arabic to the Sudanese women in the kitchen, and communicates with brief English phrases and gestures with her Latin American co-workers. Though the women in the kitchen are strangers to one another’s languages, they work with each other to serve beautiful, fragrant food—from mujaddarah, a hearty rice and
