It’s just after midnight in an industrial courtyard in Auburn in Sydney’s west and a glow of string lights and the constant sizzle of a grill signal one of Ramadan’s newest late-night rituals. A food truck specialising in halal steak sandwiches has attracted a small crowd and a queue begins to form.

The rest of the city is largely asleep but here the courtyard hums with life as young Muslims arrive in waves after evening taraweeh prayers, chatting and checking their phones as the clock edges closer to suhoor – the pre-dawn meal eaten during Ramadan before the day’s fast begins.

Inside The Meat Up, a Lebanese husband-and-wife duo move quickly over the grill. Steak sandwiches – stacked with slices of beef, melted cheese and rich chimichurri – slide across the counter as customers wait patiently for their orders.

“It’s been like this every single night of Ramadan,” says Wafaa Kamaleddine, who launched the business only a few weeks ago with her husband, Mahamed Said. “The community has really shown up and alhamdulillah – we are so grateful!”

While most Muslim families still gather at home for suhoor, the pre-dawn meal has long been a lively social tradition in many parts of the Middle East, where cafes and restaurants stay open late into the night.

Now cities such as Sydney – as well as London and New York – are catching on, as more venues extend their trading hours during Ramadan to create spaces where people can gather, eat and share the final meal before the fast begins.

At The Meat Up, the scent of charred meat drifts down the street and pulls in hungry, sleepy-eyed worshippers from the local mosque down the road.

Groups of snap-happy friends linger beside parked cars, laughing between bites of steak tacos dripping with smoky juices before the pre-dawn rush.

“I came today because I was too tired to cook tonight,” says Ayesha Anderson, who is visiting the food truck for the first time with her husband and son. “It’s rare to find a halal steak food truck in Sydney – and the steak sandwich here is incredible”

Across town, the streets of Lakemba are also alive late into the night during Ramadan. At the night markets, crowds move steadily through the streets, where vendors churn brightly coloured Malaysian mango and coconut concoctions, or sprinkle pistachios over giant trays of syrup-soaked Palestinian knafeh.

Parked on a curb nearby, Asad Uzzaman switches off his meter after eight hours of weaving through the city’s traffic. The Bangladeshi taxi driver rolls his shoulders before meeting friends at a nearby cafe.

“I always need to have a plate of rice and curry for suhoor to carry me through the day,” he says. “If I don’t eat rice, I feel hungry very quickly.”

For Uzzaman, who arrived in Sydney eight years ago as a student, Ramadan feels different from how he remembers it in his small village in Sylhet, north-eastern Bangladesh.

“Back home, the whole place would wake up for suhoor together,” he says. “Cousins knocking on doors, mothers calling children to the table, the clatter of plates echoing through narrow lanes before the dawn prayer.”

In Sydney, the nights can feel longer and lonelier, especially after a shift behind the wheel. Coming to Lakemba during Ramadan helps ease that feeling, Uzzaman says.

“You hear Bengali, Arabic, Malay – everything,” he says, glancing toward the passing crowd. “When I come here and see Muslims from everywhere gathering together for food and conversation into the early hours, it feels a little more like home.”

But not all suhoor gatherings happen out on the streets.

In the cool, quiet hours before dawn in her Surry Hills home, Sanah Djebli is preparing suhoor for her family.

The warm scent of freshly baked matlouh fills the air as they gather around a small wooden table.

Below, the occasional car passes by and there’s the faint hum of streetlights but upstairs the atmosphere is lively, with conversation in Arabic and English flowing around the table.

“Every recipe here I learnt from my mother,” Djebli says proudly, placing down a clay bowl of kefta tagine, a traditional north African dish made with spiced meatballs in a rich tomato sauce.

There’s also msemen – flaky, pan-fried flatbread – which Djebli serves with honey and black seed oil, alongside dates, fresh fruit and a pot of mint tea.

“For me, suhoor is more than just a meal,” she says. “It’s an act of love – making sure my family starts their fast feeling strong, nourished and ready for the day ahead.”

Djebli’s mother’s recipes live beyond their home at Cafe Tanja, which Djebli runs with her husband, Nadim. Their cafe is open for iftar, the fast-breaking evening meal, but not for suhoor. For the couple, the cafe is as much about community as it is about food – a place where the aromas of north Africa offer comfort to those far from their own kitchens.

Back in Auburn, the line at The Meat Up continues to grow as dawn approaches.

For those hoping to finish suhoor on a sweet note, the truck is one of the few vendors in Sydney serving the alcohol-free tiramisu by the Instagram-popular Tiramisu Sydney. The dessert comes presented in an elegant gold box and often sells out in the first hour.

Directly opposite the Morning Owl cafe peddles “crookies” – a croissant-cookie hybrid with a flaky pastry shell and a molten cookie-dough centre topped with vanilla ice-cream – also popularised by social media.

Just as importantly, the cafe has coffee machines, and baristas that manage its flow of espresso and flat whites. Customers down a final cup before suhoor ends, in preparation for another long day of fasting ahead.