The kitchen mess is even bigger; because in addition to their mother’s signature meat-filled dishes, a secondary vegetarian option must be prepared. And while everyone raves about the Moroccan harira, they must quietly sip a vegetable soup. But the biggest hurdle is less tangible: in the Middle East and North Africa in particular, vegetarianism is still quite taboo.

“People laugh at you,” Değerli says. “It’s in our culture, it’s in our mentality that animals and everything that is on planet Earth is there for humans to consume, so you’re going against that idea.”

Mr Tarek and Ms Leila Idrissi, siblings and Paris-based chefs of La Cuisine de Souad, were also ridiculed when they made changes to their diet a few years ago. “[Vegetarianism] was always a debate wherever I went,” says Tarek. “I was always mocked, especially as a man. The vision society has is that if you don’t eat meat, you won’t be a tough man. You won’t be able to fight. You won’t be able to play soccer.”

Ms Jihen Mzoughi, a young Tunisian who is set to embark on her third Ramadan as a vegan, concurs. “The change was always met with concern,” she says. “My mom was worried about my health. She thought I would never have enough food to eat and that I would get too skinny.”

From the outside looking in, these experiences may sound isolating, but for a number of Muslim vegetarians, it has pushed them forward, and provided a lesson in simple joys and compromise.

“For me, Ramadan spirit is not about what you have on the table. It’s about seeing people and being grateful. It’s all about the process and not what I consume,” Değerli says. “I am satisfied with just the smell of bread on the table or the cold glass of water I’m going to have. That’s the most precious thing to me. It’s about the excitement you get for the simplest things.”

For Mzoughi, Ramadan comes with compromise. While a strict vegan year-round, during the holy month, she’s happy to make exceptions. “I tend to look at the bigger picture,” she says. On learning of her daughter’s dietary changes, Mzoughi’s mother argued that individual action is not likely to have a major impact on the meat industry.

“I agree with her to an extent,” Mzoughi says. “I feel like it’s not the responsibility of just individuals. Industries also need to make major changes.” For that reason, she’s willing to take a less radical approach to her veganism to accommodate her family during iftar. It’s not uncommon for her to simply eat around the meat on dishes her mother prepared.

“It happens once a year, and I’m OK with it,” Mzoughi says. “Our dinners are really sacred. We put a lot of effort into the whole preparation. My mum puts a lot of effort into making the meal. So, for me to keep on refusing to eat certain things, feels disrespectful to the whole tradition.”

However, some families can adapt to their vegetarian and vegan children’s diets over time – growing to love their iterations of traditional foods. “Our dad now always ends up eating all the vegan food on the table,” Leila says. “We make mlawi stuffed with kefta and another with vegetables, and he wouldn’t know the difference,” her brother adds.

Likewise, Mzoughi’s Tunisian brik iteration, made with potatoes instead of tuna, became a household staple. “They converted to it, so now I’m always in charge of making it every day,” she says.

For Değerli, her family’s consumption of meat has dwindled as a result of her aversion to it. “It took probably 18 years,” she admits, but both her mother and brother have had their own stints as vegans in the process.