Iftar Buffet in Dakar
Hi Y'all!
If you are fasting, how is Lent/Ramadan treating you?
I am doing as well as expected. We are halfway through Ramadan. The world is slowly falling apart, but we are expecting to act normally. So let us try.
Today, I would like to talk about Iftar buffet.
Over the past decade, the concept of the Iftar buffet has slowly but surely established itself in my city, Dakar. What once felt unusual has now become part of the Ramadan landscape, with numerous restaurants offering special Iftar dinners and buffets.
For those unfamiliar, Iftar is the meal we break our fast at sunset during Ramadan. Traditionally, we begin with dates, following the practice of the Prophet Muhammad, and drink water or something warm. Only after prayer do we move on to a proper meal. In many Arab countries, this might include soup, rice dishes, grilled meat, bread, and vegetables. In my country, it traditionally includes millet porridge with yogurt, a rice dish, and juice.
Growing up, Iftar was always at home. Surrounded by family. Rooted in routine. Going out to a restaurant during Ramadan was simply not done. My parents never did it, and even invitations to other people’s homes were rare. Instead, relatives would send over lovingly prepared home-cooked dishes in the spirit of sharing. There was something deeply intimate and comforting about that.
Times have changed. Over the last five years, going out for Iftar has become common—almost fashionable. Restaurants and hotels offer special dinners and enticing buffets with entertainment. I have enjoyed my fair share of outings: a memorable Iftar at the Pullman hotel with my best friend (which we both won online, by the way), a lovely evening at La Pointe des Almadies with my girlfriends three years ago, and a date with my best friend at Grill Time two years ago.
Yet recently, I have grown reluctant. Many restaurants have significantly increased their prices without offering real value. Charging 15,000 XOF or more for a few dates, some charcuterie, cheese, croissants, eggs, and a hot drink feels excessive. It is food I could easily prepare at home for a fraction of the cost. It has begun to feel less like a celebration and more like opportunism. Moreover, the food is sometimes bland and not very delicious.
Beyond price, there is a deeper question. Ramadan is meant to be a time of spiritual reflection, restraint, and reduced excess. Yet Iftar buffets often encourage overconsumption—as if we are compensating for the missed lunch. You cannot possibly eat everything available at a buffet. Moreover, you won't be able to pray properly if you are overstuffed.
And still, I understand the appeal. I love the idea of gathering with friends, dressing up, marking the moment specially. If I had a larger space of my own, I would happily host Iftar dinners myself—creating something meaningful without losing the spirit of Ramadan. What I truly love about Iftar is its power to gather people around a table. At its best, it is not about buffets or fancy settings. It is about togetherness.
The first time I really experienced that spirit was not in Dakar, but in Japan. Back then, I was part of the Senegalese Students community in my region. During Ramadan, the women would take turns hosting Iftar on weekends. Our “venue” was usually our tiny apartment or the University dormitory. We would squeeze into the kitchen, chopping vegetables, stirring pots, tasting sauces, laughing over memories of home. The menu was always Senegalese, because when you are far from home, food becomes your anchor.
What I remember most is the warmth. The men would join in the cooking! It became less about who was hosting and more about recreating a sense of family thousands of kilometers away from Senegal. In a foreign land where everything felt different—the language, the customs, even the silence—Iftar became our way of resisting loneliness. It was our reminder that we belonged somewhere, and to each other. Those evenings were simple but filled with joy, food, and laughter. And perhaps that is the kind of Iftar that stays with you the longest.
The first time I realised that Ramadan was a celebration was when I was in Dubai for a layover in 2014. In the morning, the entire city looked deserted, with most stores and restaurants closed. But at night, it came alive. My best friend was living there at the time. She invited us to Iftar at a restaurant in Dubai Mall. The entire mall was decorated with lights and crescent moons. The restaurant offered an Iftar buffet. It was packed with people and families. We had a wonderful dinner, mostly enjoying Middle Eastern dishes such as grilled meat with hummus and fragrant rice.
This year, I mustered the courage to try Iftar again. I went to Le Jardin, the restaurant of the Casino du Cap Vert hotel. I had read online that it was one of the most affordable Iftar options in Dakar — 10,000 XOF per person for an all-you-can-eat buffet. I went with the boys. It was our first time going out for Iftar together in Dakar, which made the evening feel a little special from the start.
We arrived a few minutes before Maghrib, only to find that a queue had already formed. Clearly, we were not the only ones drawn by the price. The restaurant is primarily outdoors, but for Ramadan, they also open one of their conference rooms to accommodate the crowd. The décor was simple — crescent moons and lanterns gently reminding us of the season. Right next to the conference room, a small prayer area had been arranged with mats, a thoughtful and appreciated touch.
To break the fast, the essentials were all there: dates, soups, pastries like croissants, and a generous selection of savory bites — omelettes, crispy rolls, fried chicken, samosas, charcuterie, and salads. For drinks, there were local juices: bissap, ginger, and baobab. For something warm, tea or coffee (without milk). I chose tea with a glass of bissap.
So, would I return? I am not sure.
For 10,000 XOF, it was worth it. But it was a cold evening, and combined with the fact that some of the food was cold too, it affected the experience. Moreover, one piece of grilled chicken had sand. My son tried the potato gratin, but some parts were undercooked. The place was packed, and there was not enough room to move around for comfort.
The ambiance was pleasant, with soft background music from Maher Zain (He is to Ramadan, what Mariah Carey is to Christmas) adding a spiritual touch. The service was efficient, though it lacked a certain warmth that makes hospitality memorable.
I would recommend the restaurant for the value. But it is better to go earlier and dress for the weather. As far as I am concerned, I would like to try somewhere cosier and with fewer people.
Have you ever had Iftar at a restaurant? If yes, how was the experience?
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