Mom's Dishes

Amma and Her Cooking
I missed Amma’s cooking the most whenever I had to go out of town and when I was in the hostel. Travelling to different places and trying the local cuisines always attracted me. Still, after a few days of staying away from home and eating at restaurants, I became homesick and longed for Amma’s Rasam and Alu fry.
There was nothing extraordinary about the ingredients that went into the making of Rasam or alu fry – as a fact, she used a minimal number of ingredients. She did not even use Rasam powder available in the store and used ingredients available at home, but it tasted just heavenly. As for Alu fry, all she needed was some jeera, haldi, salt, and a little oil, and she magically transformed the potatoes into something so delicious that I ate the share of my sibling also. It was just her haath ka jadoo.
The stay in the hostel was even more punishing food-wise as the potatoes of the mess were half-cooked, the dal was runny, and the chapatis were half-baked/ cooked most of the time. Those were the days when I was younger, and the classes left us with little time to even pause and think. Sundays found me yearning for Amma’s food. I would count the days till the next vacation. The day I would reach home, she would make Rasam and Alu fry, her style for me. I would literally devour everything as if I had been starving for ages. These have remained my comfort food to this day.
She knew the snacks that I loved to munch on and made it a point to make those before I came home. She would spend many painstaking hours preparing those till it reached the desired sweetness/tanginess/crispiness. I would spend most of my time at home gorging on them so much so that my brother would tease me. Each evening would mean a different snack, and I couldn’t wait to attack them.
When I came home on vacation, I would meet my old friends, but I made it a point to be home for lunch even though my friends would insist on having lunch with them. I would give worlds but not miss Amma’s cooking.
Sometimes I used to tell her, ”Amma, let us go out and eat,” just to give her some rest. She would decline with a little smile on her lips. If I insisted, she would say, “You live in a hostel and eat whatever they serve you, and you wait to get home to have your favourite food. It gives me immense pleasure to prepare these for you as I feel happy that you are eating healthy and good food.” I could not think of anything to argue that, and then together we would cook- me a novice trying my hand and she an experienced one guiding me, teaching me to be patient, introducing me to the world of spices, telling me how the right proportion of these spices would make an ordinary curry into an unforgettable lip-smacking one. And I learnt over time that one secret ingredient about her cooking was love.
Years have rolled by, and I am now a mom to 2 kids who live in different cities. Whenever they inform me of their plans to come home, I go that extra mile to get all their favourite snacks ready and cook their favourite meals. The happiness and contentment I see on their faces are priceless. They too insist on ordering in, and I find myself repeating my mom’s words, “You live in a hostel and eat whatever they serve you, and you wait to get home to have your favourite food. It gives me immense pleasure to prepare these for you as I feel happy that you are eating healthy and good food.” And I realise that the wheel had turned.