It Begins With Bismillah
Welcome To My Table
Photo by Bernadette Ayers
Whether you arrived because of a recipe, a story, a journey across Morocco, or simply curiosity, I am truly grateful you’re here.
This table was never built for one culture, one nationality, one faith, or one way of seeing the world.
It was built for people.
For conversations that linger long after the plates have been cleared.
For stories that remind us we have far more in common than we sometimes realize.
For slowing down.
For nourishing both body and soul.
Welcome
There is a seat here for you.
Whether you arrived because of a recipe, a story, a journey across Morocco, or simply curiosity, I am truly grateful you’re here.
This table was never built for one culture, one nationality, one faith, or one way of seeing the world.
It was built for people.
For conversations that linger long after the plates have been cleared.
For stories that remind us we have far more in common than we sometimes realize.
For slowing down.
For nourishing both body and soul.
Welcome.
I was born in the United States, but my story has never belonged to just one place.
I was raised by parents from Trinidad and Tobago, surrounded by the traditions, flavors, and hospitality of generations who believed that feeding people was one of the purest expressions of love.
From very early on in my childhood, I discovered that my family’s story stretched even farther—through Africa, Venezuela, France, Spain. I eventually moved to Morocco later on in life, where a childhood dream became part of my everyday life.
Each culture has given me something.
Not only recipes.
Not only traditions.
But perspective.
Compassion.
Resilience.
Curiosity.
And a profound appreciation for the beautiful ways human beings care for one another.
Familia during the holidays, photo by: Bernadette Maria Ayers
Over the years—long before Islam, before I became a private chef—I was taking part in family gatherings, catering events on the side, and watching people gather around
tables. Most importantly, it was my family table which made it all the more meaningful once I reverted to Islam, Alhamdulillah.
Family celebrations.
Neighborhood cookouts.
Holiday feasts.
Quiet dinners after long days.
Meals prepared for someone who was grieving.
Food shared simply because someone was hungry.
Those moments taught me that food has never been just about eating.
Food is memory.
Food is culture.
Food is hospitality.
Food is healing.
Food is hope.
photos by Bernadette Maria Ayers, Seder Event, West Village New York City
Over the years, that understanding carried me far beyond the kitchen.
It led me into the homes of private clients.
Across continents.
Into bustling cities and quiet mountain villages.
It introduced me to farmers, artisans, mothers, grandmothers, strangers who became friends, and people whose kindness forever changed the way I see the world.
Some experiences filled me with indescribable joy.
Others broke my heart.
Together, they reminded me that every person carries a story—and every story deserves to be met with dignity.
Tibidabo, Photo by Bernadette Maria Ayers
Somewhere along the journey, I realized something.
Becka’s Blue Nomad Catering & Retreat was never meant to be just a catering company.
Or simply a retreat.
Or a collection of recipes.
It became a place where everything I love could finally belong together.
Food.
Travel.
Faith.
Storytelling.
Hospitality.
Human connection.
So…
Welcome to my table.
Sometimes I’ll serve a tagine.
Sometimes I’ll tell you about my grandma Becka and the women who taught me that every meal begins with love long before it reaches the table.
Sometimes I’ll write about a mountain village in Morocco that reminded me to slow down and simply breathe.
Sometimes I’ll share the story of a stranger who reminded me how much a small act of kindness can mean.
Sometimes we’ll make homemade body butter from ingredients the earth has generously provided.
Sometimes I’ll teach you how to brown chicken properly.
Sometimes I’ll introduce you to a farmer, a spice merchant, or a grandmother whose wisdom deserves to travel farther than she ever could.
Sometimes we’ll laugh until our stomachs hurt.
Sometimes we’ll cry together.
But every time you come here…
there will always be a place for you at my table.
Because I believe stories should be shared as generously as meals.
That every culture has something to teach us.
And that we all leave this world a little better when we choose to nourish one another—with kindness, with hospitality, and with hope.
Welcome home.