Dubai Chocolate

By: Layla Abdelhamid

Over the past few months, “Dubai Chocolate”, as it has been dubbed, has taken the world by storm. From gelaterias in Italy to donut shops in New York, this combination of chocolate, pistachio spread, and pieces of kataifi, or shredded phyllo dough, is everywhere. The virality of this product links back to Fix Dessert Chocolatier, a chocolate shop created by British-Egyptian engineer Sarah Hamouda back in 2021, inspired by a pregnancy craving she had. But for me, Dubai chocolate isn’t just another viral product; it’s my first foray into a part of my culture being turned ‘mainstream’- including both the good and the bad that comes from this experience.

My name is Layla Abdelhamid, and if you are currently struggling to pronounce my last name in your head, trust me when I say that you are not alone. Growing up, whenever I heard “Layla” followed by a garbled mix of letters over the announcements, or by a substitute teacher during roll call, or even during my middle school graduation, I knew exactly who they were talking about- and honestly, I couldn’t really blame them. Arabic is not an easy language to learn to pronounce, especially for English speakers. I couldn’t expect a perfect first-time pronunciation, and I could deal with that! It simply became a fact of life, albeit one that I joked about with my Egyptian family friends.

So yeah. It was fine with me that, for most, my name was unfamiliar, my food was unfamiliar, and my culture was unfamiliar- excepting, of course, discussions on Ancient Egypt in history class. But this is life for immigrants and children of immigrants in America, and, as a side effect of growing up in the diverse Bay Area, I had it a lot better than most. Sure, my culture was foreign, but it was never ‘weird’.

So, imagine my surprise when, in fall 2024, a chocolate product made with large Arab influences made by an Egyptian woman goes viral. So viral, in fact, that on nearly every block, a different shop is offering up something new, with the label of Dubai chocolate. Dubai chocolate strawberries! Dubai chocolate cookies! Dubai Chocolate Coffee! Dubai Chocolate cake! It was kind of exciting to see something inspired by my culture become a craze around the world, but ultimately, it mostly just… was. It wasn’t like my world changed overnight because of Dubai Chocolate. I didn’t really think about it. But, come Ramadan, it was kind of hard not to.

You see, every year, during Ramadan, my mom makes kunafa, an Arab dessert with sweet cheese, cream, and kataifi. Yes, that kataifi. The same kataifi that went viral, along with Dubai chocolate. And when things go viral, they begin to become scarce. My mom prefers Apollo brand kataifi, and seeing it in our freezer every single year is something of a core memory for me. This year, however, the Arab grocer my family goes to was sold out of Apollo brand kataifi- and, for that matter, most brands of kataifi. Due to the rising popularity of Dubai chocolate and the increasing demand for these products at home, more and more people have been buying kataifi, leaving my mother to give up her long-held commitment to Apollo kataifi.

Big deal, I know. But here’s the thing- I’ve spent my entire life receiving dirty looks in small towns, hearing airport horror stories, and watching my parents fight for our rights under presidents and politicians who’d rather we not exist in their America. People love our food, they love our culture, they love our Dubai Chocolate- but they don’t love us. They reject refugee assistance programs and bomb yet another Arab country under the pretense of defense- but they love our Dubai chocolate. They scream and yell and graffiti hate to us, to our children, to our mosques- but they love our Dubai chocolate.

Apollo brand kataifi is just something else taken from us because people have decided they want it. Like our artifacts, stolen and then scattered around the world in museums under the pretense of safekeeping. Like our oil, tainting the hands of greedy billionaires. Like our children, taken from the world far too soon for the crime of being born Arab, being born Muslim, being perceived as either one.

The kataifi isn’t a big deal. What it represents, on the other hand, is.

Dubai chocolate going mainstream is fine. But do not ignore its origins. Do not ignore the history of where it came from. Please, I beg of you, do not ignore us.