There’s something magical about cooking. It’s a journey that starts with simple ingredients—garlic, a pinch of salt, a few chopped tomatoes—and transforms into a feast, nourishing more than just your body. For me, cooking has been nothing short of life-changing. It’s calming, instinctual, and yes, a tad bit zen. Let me take you on a trip through the kitchen that will remind you how cooking is not just an art—it’s therapy, discovery, and pure joy.
One dish that holds an irreplaceable spot in my heart is my mom’s rajma chawal (kidney beans with rice). Simple, hearty, and bursting with flavor, this was our version of comfort food. Then there was aloo methi (potato with fenugreek leaves)–she’d take humble potatoes and handfuls of fragrant green fenugreek and, with a bit of spice, turn it into a meal that tasted like home. Nothing fancy, but somehow, every dish would transport us to a place where scarcity didn’t matter, and every mouthful felt like a celebration.
Mom was the master of “whatever’s-in-the-pantry” cooking, and her creativity knew no bounds. Whatever she had at hand went into the pot, resulting in dishes that were as inventive as they were delicious. The flavors were always on point, yes, but it was so much more than that; it was her love and ingenuity that seasoned every meal. She was our magician in the kitchen, turning modest ingredients into unforgettable dishes, reminding us that food could be scarce but still immensely comforting and joyful.
The Tactile Joy of Getting Your Hands Dirty
Now, cooking isn’t always sunshine and fragrant spices. There were plenty of mishaps along the way, some of which still make me laugh. Once, in my early attempts to impress my family, I tried to make a perfectly fluffy rice pilaf. It seemed simple enough; after all, mom made it look effortless. But when I lifted the lid, I found not fluffy rice but a sticky, mushy blob! My family gave a few hesitant bites, encouraging me with chuckles and a few loving pats on the back. It was a humbling reminder that cooking, like life, is about embracing the journey—with all its sticky messes and well-done mishaps.
A Mother’s Unstoppable Spirit and the Bundt Cake Miracle
And then there was the time I had promised my entire class that I’d bring a cake for the school gathering. I was so excited but hadn’t thought about how we’d actually make it happen. My mother, always up for an adventure, didn’t flinch. She didn’t tell me we didn’t own an oven, nor did she complain about gathering ingredients that weren’t easy to afford. Instead, she found a way. With her creativity and unstoppable spirit, she baked me a bundt cake on the stove.
That bundt cake made it to school, and I was the proudest kid in class. The taste was amazing, but even more memorable was the sparkle in my mom’s eyes—the pure joy and excitement of trying something new, even if it seemed impossible. That was her secret: cooking, for her, was an adventure and a testament to what a bit of ingenuity and a lot of love could create. That experience taught me that cooking isn’t about tools or fancy equipment—it’s about heart, passion, and the courage to experiment.
Finding Zen in the Everyday
Cooking has since become my own way of reconnecting with those humble, beautiful memories. With each meal, I discover the same joy, calming rhythm, and sense of wonder that I watched in my mom’s kitchen. I’ve come to realize that cooking is like a living, breathing craft; the more you practice, the more instinctual it becomes. There’s a quiet confidence in learning to trust the sizzle of spices, the aroma of fresh herbs, and the feel of ingredients in your hands. Over time, it’s not just the recipes that improve but the joy of creating, the calm it brings, and the tactile connection to the food itself.
Building Confidence One Spoonful at a Time
Cooking isn’t about perfection; it’s about being present, letting go of the need to control every outcome, and embracing the journey—messy moments and all. Every spoonful, every chop, every perfectly imperfect dish is part of the story. And just like those meals my mom made out of little, the memories of food, family, and love have a way of lingering, nourishing us long after the last bite.
So, when you step into the kitchen, remember: it’s not just about the food. It’s about finding peace, connecting with memories, and creating something special, even when all you have is a bit of rice, some potatoes, and the warmth of home.
