Some of my earliest memories are of sitting beside my mother in the kitchen, rolling sweets; not watching, but actually rolling each piece by hand for large catering orders that needed every set of hands available.

When my parents opened Abdullah Sweets, I spent that first summer behind the cash register. Every Ramadan when orders surged, I was back. My hands helped build something that people visiting New York seek out by name.

And yet, I told myself this world wasn't for me. Like many children of immigrants, I spent years building my own identity outside of it.

Then I attended wedding after wedding where the dessert table was an afterthought. No story, no soul, no stage.

In 2021, at my own wedding, I wanted my parents' sweets displayed the way they deserved to be seen. I hired a coordinator to bring my vision to life, because the service I was imagining didn't exist yet.

Then in 2022 I did it again. And again. My sister's mehndi. Her bridal shower. Her reception. Each time, the room stopped. Each time, guests asked who created it.

Six years and four events later, that feeling became Nishi's Mishti Table — a way to honor everything my parents built while building something entirely my own.