A Michelin‑Trained Chef Builds A Muslim‑Centred Food Institution
In a world where fine dining culture still tends to orbit around Western or secular signposts of excellence, pastry chef Sumaiya Bangee is carving out a different centre of gravity. After breaking barriers in elite kitchens from Los Angeles and Hong Kong to New York — including roles at globally acclaimed and two‑Michelin‑starred restaurants — she is now building Thuluthan, a venture rooted explicitly in Islamic traditions of nourishment, healing and belonging. Thuluthan, whose name refers to the prophetic teaching of leaving one‑third of the stomach for food, one‑third for drink and one‑third for breath, is conceived as more than a brand. Bangee envisions an institution: part culinary company, part cultural project, part infrastructure for Muslim‑centred dining. Her aim is to gather scattered prophetic food wisdom into one accessible space, not only for Muslims, but also for broader audiences already interested in holistic wellness beyond conventional medicine.
What Sunnah Foods Mean When Treated Like Fine Dining
At the heart of Thuluthan is a simple but radical question: why isn’t Islamic tradition a reference point for healing and everyday eating, the way Chinese medicine or Ayurveda already are? Bangee talks about Sunnah foods — including dates, honey, black seed, barley, pomegranate and squash — not as a rigid checklist of superfoods, but as part of an ethic of care that links intention, moderation, digestion, hydration and spiritual consciousness. In her hands, talbina, a barley‑based comfort porridge from prophetic tradition, becomes pancakes folded with roasted grains, served with date syrup and butter, yet never stripped of meaning. This is Sunnah food modern: familiar formats, anchored in faith. For Muslim diners, seeing such dishes plated with Michelin‑trained precision signals that their culinary and religious heritage deserves the same curiosity and respect that upscale restaurants increasingly afford to other global traditions, including beloved Malaysian staples making their way into white‑tablecloth settings.
‘Food Has Become Just For Show’: The £13 Broccoli Problem
While Bangee uses elite skills to reclaim under‑represented foodways, chef‑turned‑influencer Poppy O’Toole is challenging another side of fine dining culture: the creeping sense that some restaurant food exists mainly for spectacle. Her pointed question — why a simple plate of broccoli should cost £13 — captures a wider frustration with small‑plates menus and visually dazzling dishes that feel more like content than nourishment. For O’Toole, this is food for show: priced and styled for Instagram rather than for ordinary people’s tables, with value judged by shock factor instead of flavour, craft or cultural meaning. Her critique resonates across social media, where diners are increasingly willing to call out experiences that feel exclusionary or performative. In contrast to Bangee’s Muslim‑centred dining project, O’Toole’s stance does not champion a specific tradition, but it presses the same pressure point: who is fine dining really for, and what makes a meal “worth it”?
Two Paths Away From Elitism: Elevation vs Pushback
Put side by side, Bangee and O’Toole might seem to occupy different universes, yet both push against elitism in food. Bangee’s response to exclusion in Michelin spaces — where she was often the only visibly Muslim woman and faced pressure to tone down her identity — is to build a new centre of excellence around Islamic practice, turning everyday Sunnah ingredients into expressions of care, ritual and joy. O’Toole, by contrast, speaks from within mainstream restaurant culture to question when fine dining tips into theatre, with price tags and plating that alienate typical diners. One uses elite techniques to elevate marginalised culinary lineages; the other uses influence to deflate over‑hyped trends. Together they sketch a future where top‑tier chefs are not just perfecting tasting menus, but also interrogating the values behind them — representation, affordability, intention and the right of ordinary people to see themselves in what is served.
What This Means For Malaysian Diners And Chefs
For Malaysians, these debates feel close to home. Local diners already navigate a spectrum from warung meals to chef’s‑table counters, weighing when a higher bill reflects genuine craft and heritage, and when it risks becoming food for show. Bangee’s insistence on Muslim‑centred dining invites Malaysian chefs to ask how prophetic ingredients, regional kampung recipes and family rituals could be honoured in modern formats without losing soul. At the same time, O’Toole’s scepticism over that £13 broccoli moment is a reminder to question pricing that leans on aesthetics more than substance. Social media now gives chef‑influencers in Malaysia the tools to spotlight religious, comfort and home‑style dishes alongside glossy tasting menus. The opportunity lies in supporting eateries that respect culture and value in tandem — and encouraging the next generation of Malaysian talent to treat local Muslim and regional traditions as worthy of the same technical rigor as any Michelin kitchen.