jordan pulse -

Atef Abu Hajar
During the month of Ramadan, schedules shift, homes fill with the aromas of diverse dishes, and kitchens turn into arenas of creativity and friendly competition. Yet this blessed month does not arrive alone; accompanying it—without prior notice—is that controversial figure who appoints himself as a culinary expert and top-tier critic: “Abu Al-‘Arif.” The moment a cooking airs, he emerges from hiding like a legendary kitchen hero, treating every dish as though it were an adversary on a battlefield.
Abu Al-‘Arif… a critic beyond compare. He surveys the dining table and declares, “By the way, I’m not hungry at all today… but I’m starving!” as if he has uncovered a hidden treasure of appetizers and delicacies. Anyone who assumes these are passing remarks is mistaken; no dish escapes his profound analysis.
Shortly before sunset, he storms into the kitchen, takes a deep breath to inhale the scent of mansaf, tilts his head thoughtfully, and exclaims, “Ah… where are you, Umm So-and-So!” as flavors and memories crowd his imagination. The scene grows even more comical when he stands before his wife, busy in the final moments before the call to prayer, raising and lowering his eyebrows as he announces, “You know… tomorrow I’m craving fish. And I’m also in the mood for tripe!”—as if every desire must be fulfilled the next day. She responds with a polite nod and a forced smile, as though standing before an international tasting expert driven by an unstoppable appetite.
The Zeal for Food and Drink
He distinguishes neither between savory and sweet, nor between high blood pressure and low sugar, nor between light and healthy fare and rich indulgence. He is, in his own estimation, the ultimate authority on evaluating every dish, appetizer, salad, juice, and dessert—issuing endless commentaries and analyses.
He is Abu Al-‘Arif: philosopher of the kitchen, self-appointed defender of “good food,” and private investigator of every flavor. Anyone daring to present a meal before him must prepare for an unforgiving tasting trial; his senses—so he claims—allow nothing to escape notice, from fried tomatoes to mansaf. On cooking shows, chefs compete to present their finest creations, while Abu Al-‘Arif remains ever present—the man who has turned curiosity, and perhaps gluttony verging on excess, into a defining trait.
He is a familiar, humorous figure in our homes, reminding us that Ramadan is not only a month of worship and fasting, but also a season of social anecdotes that add their own distinctive flavor to our tables—truly, a “Flavor Bulletin.”