“I honestly don’t get this obsession with the viral pistachio trend. Can we stop already?” asks Jonathan Bayleaf, a restaurant owner in Karachi whose restaurant was the talk of the town last year but lately has been getting ‘mixed reviews.’

“I completely endorse this opinion. All of the influenzas (oops, influencers) are constantly bombarding our social media platforms with it. It’s very uncouth if you ask me,” chimes in Ariana LePetite. She loves introducing herself as a food critic, but deep down she knows that all she loves to do is criticise.

We are all gathered at my house. Front-lawn, centre-garden-style seating. The table is covered with an ajrak print tablecloth and hastily adorned with baskets of fresh oranges. On a good day, this visual could have been on the cover of the next issue of Bon Appétit, but today is not one of those days.

Who am I? Gossip Girl… Well, actually, a person who has invited over a few people for an Eid brunch so I can audition for the job of a ‘freelance personal chef’ who creates these elaborate concept dishes for one-off events and doesn’t have to stand on their feet for 12 hours every day in a hot kitchen, humouring the volatile mood swings of, well, everyone who is ‘in power’ in Karachi – and by that, I mean, literally everyone in Karachi.

We are also expecting Cynthia Limo, a 65-year-old woman who seems to know everyone of consequence in the city, but there is no way she will arrive on time.

Suddenly I find myself wishing I was still in the kitchen cooking. For the brunch, I have prepared crispy eggplant sandwiches with a yoghurt and dill-based dip, spinach and corn fritters – as a nod to the iftar season – turmeric rice with potatoes and peas served with skewers of malai boti and dessert, which is a cross between fruit chaat and a smoothie bowl.

If somebody were to make this for me, I’d probably write them a song and even attempt to sing it.

However, Jonathan and Ariana seem like they have other things on their minds. Ariana at this point is attempting to take a ‘tabletop’ picture of the spread – the kindphotohoto that makes you want to get up on your chair with your shoes on, with a phone held fast in your hands while you attempt to blink at the screen as the sun harshly reflects off it. As much as I appreciate someone wanting to document my cooking, I have a slight suspicion this photo isn’t going to come out quite as planned.

“You know, the place that actually used to serve good food,” says Jonathan, looking up at the sky as if to mentally take himself elsewhere. “Was this kebab place on I.I. Chundrigar? Ahead of their times. Unappreciated.”

“…right. I think I remember,” I attempt to say, fully knowing the place probably closed before I was born. “What do you think of the rice?”

“Very nice. Though, my dear, if you had asked me to come to give you advice, I would have been very bad at that, let me tell you. I love to eat, but I can’t talk about food anymore. I crave ghar ka khaana.”

Ariana, who seemed to have gotten her ‘shot’ and is now busy thinking of a caption while the food on her plate stays untouched, looks like she has excluded herself from the conversation, which would have been fine if we were a group of eight people or more, but we are not.

A doorbell rings, and my small pug goes barking at the door. It is Cynthia, wearing all her pearls, a floral sari and a bag that someone fashionable might know the name of – but I am just a chef.

“So sorry I am late, darling. Hope I haven’t missed the gossip!”

“You are just in time; we are actually just going to start eating,” I say, stopping just in time to see her disappointment.

“On time, I see. I’m usually very busy and up to multiple things at once, so that’s rare,” she says, laughing, but her eyes form a stare.

I am hungry at this point and mentally ready to fight everyone who has ever theorised that you don’t feel hungry after you cook.

“Is anything here dairy, gluten and sugar free?”

I’m looking at my spread that just a few moments ago seemed worthy of a magazine cover and now is just calling me to eat.

“Let me call for some limu paani, Cynthia,” I say as I sit down to eat. Jonathan is still looking directly at the sky, and Ariana still seems to be having an affair with someone via her phone.

It is true – no one is a better person to eat food with than yourself.

The eggplant sandwiches are delicious – if I say so myself. Happy Eid.

Riffat Rashid is a food writer and a digital content creator behind the blog, GirlGottaEat. girlgottaeat17@gmail.com