Shabbat is always a party in art producer and curator Marc Azoulay’s Moroccan family. When he was growing up outside of Paris, there were at least 10 people at the Shabbat dinner table—cousins, aunts, uncles, friends, and the extra folks his dad Andre would invite at the very last minute, “which would make my mother [Simone] crazy,” he jokes. But Simone, who continues to host those dinners, has never run out of food and always makes her guests feel welcome. 

Her menus change every week, but there’s a rhythm to them. Dinner always starts with salads like avocado dressed with lemon and white pepper, cuminy beets, and salad cuite, a jammy mix of peppers and tomatoes that she cooks for hours. They’re followed up with a fish like poisson à la Marocaine or cod patties simmered in tomato sauce and then a meat dish like chicken with olives and saffron. “Our tradition is to have one fish and one meat dish,” Marc explains. 

“We’re not very religious,” he adds. Kiddush is said over the wine and hamotzi over challah, but the evenings are about having everyone around the table together, sharing stories of their week.

When Marc was 15, he studied abroad in Australia to learn English. In his Ashkenazi host family’s home, Friday dinner sometimes meant sushi or another everyday meal, not the traditional Moroccan Shabbat spread he was used to. That “was the first time that I realized our home was different,” he says. “It's also the first time I tried gefilte fish.”

As he traveled more, studying in Hong Kong, and spending time in places like Singapore and Rio, he started going to synagogue on Shabbat to meet locals. In smaller communities, where everyone knows each other, he stood out. “I would get invited right away to someone’s house and it was a magical experience,” Marc says.

When he was living in Sydney in his early 20s, Marc realized he wouldn’t be home for the high holidays. Still he wanted to eat the dishes he grew up with, so he invited friends over for a traditional pre-Yom Kippur fast meal. As he bounced around from one country to another over the next several years, he started hosting Shabbat dinners, trying to replicate the food and atmosphere of his parents’ home. 

When he moved to New York at 26, Marc recalls: “It was intriguing to me that many New York Jews wouldn’t necessarily go to their family for Shabbat.” So, as soon as he had an apartment where he could host, the Friday dinners resumed with 12, 15 and sometimes even 20 coming. “It was an excuse to gather people from all my different worlds of New York and have them meet.” 

Cooking the meals with his now-wife Marie Salomé Peyronnel also became part of his Friday ritual. Despite growing up in a Moroccan family in the same Paris suburb, many of the dishes Marc made were new to her, as was Shabbat since her family’s not Jewish. “She learned how to cook with me and she adopted the Shabbat tradition,” Marc shares. 

When Marie, who is a curator and writer, started the process of converting to Judaism, she realized that Jewish ritual objects, which traditionally were passed down the generations, today are often inexpensive ones purchased online and don’t have the soul of those from years ago. So she started working with artists to rethink them, launching the beautifully curated Judaica company HaYom. 

With two little kids and a small Brooklyn apartment, Marc says Shabbat dinner requires a bit more organization than it used to, but they still invite at least one other family to join them. “It’s important that [our kids] are exposed to this. They see this night is different from other nights because there are people around, it’s joyful — we take time at the dinner table.”

“Now, many friends have been converted to the ‘Shabbat thing,’” Marc says. Friends will reach out and ask if he’s hosting on Friday and if they can come. “I’m very proud [of that].”