What Are Halal Food Rules?

In the bustling aisles of a suburban Costco, Sarah Ahmed pauses before a package of gummy bears. The label boasts “no artificial colors,” but for Ms. Ahmed, a 34-year-old software engineer and observant Muslim, the real question is simpler, yet profound: Is it halal? A quick scan of the ingredients reveals gelatin — often derived from pork — and she sets it down, opting instead for a certified alternative nearby.

This ritual, repeated millions of times daily by the world’s 1.9 billion Muslims, underscores the quiet discipline of halal eating. Derived from the Arabic word for “permissible,” halal is more than a dietary checklist; it’s a framework woven into the fabric of Islamic life, guiding not just what one consumes but how one engages with the world. Rooted in the Quran and the teachings of the Prophet Muhammad, these rules emphasize ethical sourcing, animal welfare and spiritual mindfulness. Yet in an era of lab-grown meats, global supply chains and cultural fusion cuisines, interpreting halal has never been more complex — or contested.

As the global halal market surges past $2.5 trillion in 2025, fueled by demand from Indonesia to Illinois, understanding these laws offers a window into broader questions of faith, food and identity. For Muslims like Ms. Ahmed, it’s a daily act of devotion. For others, it’s an invitation to empathy in a divided age.

The Foundations: What the Quran Commands

Islamic dietary laws, known as sharia in matters of food, begin with a principle of abundance: All creation is a gift from God, unless explicitly forbidden. The Quran, Islam’s foundational text, lays out these boundaries in verses that blend prohibition with compassion. In Surah Al-Baqarah (2:173), for instance, it declares pork, blood, the flesh of dead animals and anything over which the name of God has not been invoked as unlawful — but adds a mercy clause: “But whoever is forced by necessity, not desiring nor transgressing, there is no sin upon him.”

This isn’t mere restriction, scholars argue, but a call to intentionality. “Halal is about more than avoidance; it’s about gratitude and ethics,” said Febe Armanios, a historian at the University of Richmond and co-author of Halal Food: A History. In her 2018 book, reviewed in The New York Times, Ms. Armanios traces how these rules evolved over centuries, from medieval debates on cheese rennet to today’s scrutiny of airline meals. “It’s a history of adaptation,” she told the Times, highlighting how halal has shaped — and been shaped by — trade routes, empires and migrations.

The prohibitions are clear and categorical: Pork and its byproducts, like lard or gelatin, top the list, cited in multiple Quranic passages as impure (Surah Al-Ma’idah 5:3). Alcohol and intoxicants follow, not just for their effects but as symbols of excess. Blood, too, is barred to promote hygiene and reverence for life — a rule that echoes ancient practices across Abrahamic faiths, including Judaism’s kosher laws.

Then there are the animals deemed inherently impermissible: carnivores with fangs, like lions or dogs; birds of prey, such as eagles; and creatures like snakes or frogs. “These aren’t arbitrary,” explains Dr. Mohammad Hashim Kamali, founder of the International Institute of Islamic Thought. “They protect against harm, both physical and spiritual.”

The Ritual of Slaughter: Zabihah and the Question of Mercy

At the heart of halal meat preparation lies zabihah, the ritual slaughter that transforms permissible animals — cows, sheep, goats, chickens — into sacred sustenance. Performed by a Muslim who invokes God’s name (“Bismillah, Allahu Akbar”) with a swift cut to the throat, the method drains blood rapidly, minimizing suffering and contamination.

This practice, dating back 1,400 years, has sparked modern debates. In a 2002 New York Times report from a New Jersey slaughterhouse, workers described the precision: a sharp knife, no hesitation, ensuring the animal feels no undue pain. Yet animal rights advocates and some European regulators question it, pushing for pre-slaughter stunning. A 2019 Times article detailed the tension in Belgium, where kosher and halal exemptions face scrutiny: “Stunning ensures unconsciousness,” said a veterinarian, but rabbis and imams counter that it risks killing the animal prematurely, violating ritual integrity.

Most major Islamic bodies, including the Islamic Food and Nutrition Council of America, endorse reversible stunning if it doesn’t cause death, balancing faith with welfare. In the U.S., where halal certification is booming, facilities often segregate lines to prevent cross-contamination — a nod to both tradition and food safety standards.

Beyond Meat: The Expansive World of Permissible Foods

Halal’s reach extends far beyond the butcher’s block. Fruits, vegetables, grains and dairy from halal sources are unequivocally allowed, forming the bulk of the Muslim diet. Seafood offers a rare simplicity: Most schools of Islamic jurisprudence deem all ocean life permissible without slaughter, from salmon to shrimp — though the Hanafi school demurs on shellfish. “It’s one area where halal feels effortless,” Ms. Ahmed said in a recent interview.

Processed foods, however, demand vigilance. Additives like emulsifiers or flavorings might harbor hidden haram elements — alcohol-derived vanilla extract, say, or pork enzymes in cheese. The rise of certification bodies, such as the Halal Food Authority, has streamlined this: A crescent-moon logo signals compliance after rigorous audits of ingredients, facilities and supply chains.

In 2022, a Times investigation into a New Jersey halal certifier tied to Senator Bob Menendez exposed vulnerabilities: Fraudulent labels can erode trust, prompting calls for federal oversight. Yet the system’s growth — from $1.6 trillion in 2018 to today’s behemoth — reflects its appeal beyond Muslims. Non-Muslims cite health benefits (less processed additives) and ethics (humane slaughter), as seen in upscale “halal fusion” spots in New York.

Navigating Modernity: Debates and Adaptations

Halal isn’t static. Lab-grown meat, approved as halal by some scholars in a 2023 Times piece, sidesteps slaughter altogether: “If it’s cultured from permissible cells, why not?” asked a Dubai cleric. In China, where 25 million Muslims navigate state-mandated standards, halal apps track everything from ramen to rice wine substitutes.

Prison systems, too, grapple with equity. A 2007 Times report from New York highlighted Muslim inmates fasting on subpar “halal” trays — often just cold cuts — fueling lawsuits for better provisions. “It’s about dignity,” said one advocate.

For everyday adherents, tools like the Zabihah app demystify dining out, while home cooks experiment with agar-agar jellies or turkey “bacon.” As Ms. Armanios notes, “Halal binds communities — from Ottoman markets to Instagram foodies.”

In the end, halal is less a barrier than a bridge — to health, ethics and shared humanity. As global migration blurs culinary lines, these rules remind us: Food is where faith meets the fork. For the uninitiated, trying a certified falafel isn’t appropriation; it’s appreciation.

Ms. Ahmed, back home with her gummies, reflects: “It’s not sacrifice. It’s presence — in every bite, a prayer.”