Spice, Comfort, and Everything In Between: My Food Story

Do you ever miss the comfort of home-cooked meals when you’re travelling but then find yourself craving street food like spicy chaat when you’re back home? If you are the kind of person who enjoys a delicious meal so much you overindulge and ignore the feeling of being too full, then this is for you! 

This story dives into the joys and struggles of our ever-changing food desires, and yes, I will be sharing some consequences of my cravings as well at the end!

I can still smell the spices simmering, a warm embrace that fills every corner of our house in Bihar. We were a big family, a bustling crowd of grandparents, parents, me and my two brothers, all drawn together by the promise of another delicious meal. Mom, the undisputed queen of the kitchen, reigned supreme over the stove, her brow furrowed in concentration as she ensured everyone had their favourites. 

Back then, food was a symphony of - parathas, fragrant curries, and tangy pickles, all accompanied by the comforting clink of cups filled with steaming chai and an entire packet of biscuits. School lunches were like love notes from Mom, each bite a testament to her care - stuffed parathas, crusty sandwiches, or maybe a warm slice of toast and Maggi. Dinners were a celebration of togetherness, a comforting bowl of kadhi, and a vibrant curry that tickled our taste buds. Wheat roti and rice were ever-present staples.

That’s how it all began: this lifelong love affair with food, a journey shaped by the warmth of home and the magic Mom created in the kitchen. 

But who could resist the siren song of street food in those teenage years? Be it pani puris, chaats or anything fried bursting with deliciousness. But my mother, wise as ever, saw the glint in our eyes and the rumble in our bellies. To keep us away from the more questionable vendors, she began recreating these treats in our kitchen. 

More temptations awaited at college, a completely different experience. But the hostel food was..... let’s say, eating paper cardboard every day. Bland, repetitive, and sometimes just plain gross. All those days, I wanted a taste of Mom’s cooking, something familiar and comforting. But my college was in Kolkata: The street food paradise - Maggi, momos, rolls, noodles, everything under the sun and at a pocket-friendly price. So, I’d sneak in those occasional treats despite the hostel’s strict no-outside food rule.

Then, before I knew it, college was over. Work in Delhi and Bangalore became a whirlwind exploration of irresistible flavours, a foodie’s dream come true. Delhi meant indulging in the city’s amazing food scene- chole bhature, spicy dhaba curries, bakeries overflowing with treats. We started incorporating fruits and salads for some balance alongside our usual fare, but in that food paradise, portion control went out the window, and every day was a celebration. 

Later came the great lockdown. I am rolling my eyes at the frustrating memories of being stuck with my own cooked food for months. As soon as the shackles of lockdown lifted, eating out wasn’t just a meal anymore; it became a daily ritual, a desperate attempt to fill the void left by a lack of social interaction and new experiences. Of course, my body wasn’t exactly a fan of this new routine. Gastritis, nausea, and food poisoning became unwelcome guests. I’d swear off unhealthy food, but the lure was always there. Now, I’m stuck in this weird diet world, trying to undo the damage. I know I will sail through!

Looking back, it’s clear that food has been more than just sustenance. It’s shaped my memories, my cravings, and even my health. From Mom’s home cooking to the bland hostel fare, from the convenience of street food to the indulgence of fine dining, it’s all been a part of my journey. The one thing I wish I knew was how to eat right, to understand the impact of food on my body. But hey, that’s a lesson I’m learning now, one healthy bite at a time.