For many Americans who grew up in immigrant households, food is and remains a symbol of love. The sights, smells, and sounds of a warm kitchen are hallmarks of a shared kinship, of a common ground, of family.
For Fatima Ali, whom most Americans knew from her turn on “Top Chef,” food was a passion and a calling, a way for the Pakistan native to draw her family and friends together from far-off lands, and a way to communicate that love and sameness. There is a little less warmth in the world’s kitchens since Ali died last week, at age 29, from a rare form of cancer called Ewing’s sarcoma.
“Chef Fati” was diagnosed with Ewing’s sarcoma just weeks after leaving the “Top Chef” kitchens in early 2017 and underwent surgery. She announced she was “technically cancer free” at the Food & Wine Classic in Aspen, Colo., last summer, but then in October, she revealed that her cancer had returned. This time, the diagnosis was terminal.
Instead of languishing in misery or self-pity, Ali embarked on an ambitious journey to eat at some of the world’s most exclusive restaurants, surrounded by her friends, her colleagues, and her “Top Chef” castmates, who rallied around Ali as though she were their sister.
In an essay in Bon Appetit magazine, she made it clear that just because her life was ending didn’t mean it was already over. Food had been a central part of Ali’s life growing up in Pakistan, and her culinary ambitions helped pull her and her family closer together. She told reporters in late 2018 that she earned her parents’ respect on trips home from the Culinary Institute of America in New York. Her “ferocious quest for excellence,” as she put it in her official CIA bio, “catapulted” her into some of New York City’s most prestigious kitchens and earned her success on both “Top Chef” (where she also earned an award for being the “fan favorite”) and the Food Network’s cooking game show, “Chopped.”
When faced with the prospect of having only a limited time to enjoy the fruits of her labor, Fatima embraced it as a journey.
“It’s funny, isn’t it?” she wrote for Bon Appetit. “When we think we have all the time in the world to live, we forget to indulge in the experiences of living … I am desperate to overload my senses in the coming months, making reservations at the world’s best restaurants, reaching out to past lovers and friends, and smothering my family, giving them the time that I so selfishly guarded before.”
“There’s a faint feeling deep inside my gut like a rumble of passing air, ever expanding and filling slowly until, one day, I’ll pop,” she continued. “I was always deathly afraid of being average in any way, and now I desperately wish to have a simple, uneventful life.”
In another essay she wrote just days before she died, Ali showed she was still soaking up every moment of life: “Every day I come up with a recipe I’ve never made before, write it down in a notebook, make a little drawing of it, go shopping for those ingredients, and cook it.”
Even in her final days, Ali radiated joy — the same joy that made her a delight to watch on “Top Chef” and made her an obvious magnet for friends and colleagues, who publicly expressed their sorrow after she passed away.
“When someone as bright and young and vivacious as our Fati passes, the only metaphor that seems to fit is that of a star — a beacon in the darkness, a light that guides us, on which to make wishes, from which to weave dreams,” her family wrote on Instagram.
“Live your life as she did — to the fullest. Pursue your passion; spread love and joy; be kind and forgiving; be generous; enjoy every morsel — from humble street food to decadent fine dining; cook for the people you love,” they said. “Travel the world and seek out adventure. Help others and don’t be afraid to take the road less taken.”
Emily Zanotti is the senior editor of the Daily Wire. She is a career political journalist and a longtime culinary enthusiast.
