Amazing food in the UK represents gorgeous variety of people we are lucky enough to share our country with/ Burnley’s award winning concert pianist and piano school director

I don’t mean going out on dates. Heavens, I’ve been married for 23 years. The only dates we have tend to have are on birthdays and anniversaries; otherwise, a trip to Lidl during Latin American week is, frankly, the height of excitement.

I mean dates, as in the dried fruit. I do like them, actually. I think they’re tasty, aside from the fact that they keep you regular, as they say. And did you know that dates are traditionally consumed by Muslims during Ramadan when they break the fast for their iftar meal each evening?

A friend and former colleague of mine invited us to an iftar meal at her house some years back. It went down in history as an evening of great food (an incredible selection of curries, biryanis, samosas, pakoras, and so on), amazing company and much hilarity. “We still talk about that day!” she laughed, when I told her I was writing this column. My husband, son and I all borrowed a shalwar kameez, and we even fasted too, that day, as we truly wanted to experience what it was like. Believe me: it was harder than you think.

We were invited to the mosque first, where we were shown round and various Muslim traditions were explained to us. Honestly, we were treated like royalty, and our guide (whose name I’ve forgotten) told us how keen they were for non-Muslims to visit to see their beautiful place of worship and to build community links. But that night - oh, we laughed so much. You know when you’re crying laughing? That. My son ran around in glee with his new friends, and my belly ached with laughter, full to the point of bursting with delicious food.

Some years before, we used to live in North Manchester and had quite a few Jewish friends. In fact, my son WAS that child who was invited to a Jewish girl’s birthday party and, at three years old, asked where the ham sandwiches were, which provoked much hilarity (as we, his parents, hid our faces!). Our friends, not put off by this, invited us to their Shabbat evening meal one Friday. Once again, we had the most amazing evening, with superb food such as homemade challah bread and a fine roast chicken. But something struck me.

Our host said, as we were at the table, “Normally we pray now. Would it bother you if we did?” Bother us? Bother us? Why on earth would it bother us? It was a privilege to see this ancient custom carried out in front of our eyes; an honour to see our friends’ traditions and heritage.

You see: in my mind, all these little glimpses into the lives of our friends is like THE best documentary channel - except it’s better than television. It’s better than virtual reality, even. It IS reality! Complete with laughter, conversation and friendship. And food. Plenty of it.

Pretty lucky, aren’t we? In this country, we get to choose if we want to scoff dates, or biryani, or roast chicken. I sometimes get to eat my mum’s amazing Sunday roasts. I love the empanadas and paella that my Argentinian/Spanish husband makes; I can’t get enough of the galettes from my French best friend’s recipe. Our favourite way to spend a Saturday lunchtime is eating Thai food in Burnley town centre, and you can’t walk for long around here without discovering the most amazing Italian eateries.

Don’t get me wrong. There’s a place for beans on toast, too. But variety is the spice of life, as they say, and what makes me smile is that the huge selection of food that we have access to is just a beautiful representation of the gorgeous variety of people that we are lucky enough to share our country with. And each person laughs, and giggles, and cries, and wonders, and has hopes and dreams.

They love good food, too. Can’t blame them. Race = human.