Visible Flavour of Mother’s Homemade Food

Smells Like Memories Of Childhood

Childhood memories mean home, play, a plate followed by love. But if somebody asked, “What does home taste like? —I would instantly reply, My mother’s cooking.

The Village Kitchen: A Home Away From Home

I grew up in a very simple village where, once it got dark, the air would be laced with the smell of your neighbours cooking from their clay stoves. We came from a very humble background, but we had a limitless passion for food. Every dish my mother made was infused with pure love when she cooked.

Khichuri and Beef Curry: The Comfort Food

My best food memory was khichuri with beef. Especially on the rainy days when the sky was clouded up, my mother would cook up an aromatic khichuri with some spicy hot beef curry. Raindrops hitting tin roof, warmth of the meal, and stories we exchanged were magical. That meal still sits on my tongue.

A Taste of Home, Far Away

There was a time when I had to be away from someone I loved for a long time because of my studies. While living in the hustle and bustle of city life, I longed for the food my mom made. Other than the fast food and canteen meals, nothing ever felt the same as comforting. It remains perhaps one of the only meals that has ever brought tears to my eyes: khichuri. That taste! It was something that only my mother could make! The way she combined the spices, the love poured into every bite — you could never replicate that.

Reunion Through Food

And when I finally came home after months of yearning, my mother had cooked my favorite khichuri and beef curry. When I took my first bite, I was like, Yes this is ‘taste of home.’ It wasn’t merely a flavor, but rather a reflection of my childhood, love, and the strength of togetherness. It was so much more than food; it was a warm hug, a comforting assurance that despite where I was in the world, home would never abandon me, always eagerly awaiting my return.

Trying to Re-Catch the Magic

When I got older, I tried to recreate my mother’s recipes. I followed her instructions to the letter, using the same ingredientes and techniques. But no matter what I did, I always felt like something was missing. Was it the clay stove? The new village ingredients? Or was it just her motherly affection? Maybe it was all of it put together.

Food as a Legacy of Love

As the one preparing my meals, I now understand that food is not only about deliciousness, but it also holds feelings, nostalgia, and an unbreakable connection. Coz the taste of home is not just the ingredients, but it is the love, the warmth and it is the moments which are shared. My mom’s cooking fed my body but also enriched my soul and it is a legacy of love I hope to carry forth one day.

A Timeless Connection to Home

Even now, every time I go back home, the first thing I ask for is my mother’s khichuri and beef curry. And each mouthful carries me back to those rainy days, the anecdotes, the chuckles, and the unvoiced love that transformed any meal into one to be cherished.