My grandma, from my mother's side, lived just along my path to school. I can still smell the aroma of her signature chicken soup as I remember dropping by her house after school. Grandma's soup was something else β so rich, so comforting. Every ingredient, like the wood-ear mushroom, the chicken, the stock, made the whole thing come alive. My cousin and I would be there, waiting for grandma's strong yet weary hands to pour the soup into our bowls. We'd finish bowl after bowl, then lie down on the bed, just letting our tummies work it all in. Even though I'm far from home now, and she's getting on in years, I still can't wait to have her soup again. Every sip, even now, feels like a hug from her.
Another of my favorite childhood dishes is mom's rice noodles with tomato. Whenever I was under the weather, she would whip this up, claiming it would help sweat out my fever. The hearty noodles, a product of beautiful Vietnam, and the delicate flavor of the crushed tomatoes. And the tender pork - so easy and nice to bite into. I have craved for it all while living abroad. Nowadays, I have figured out how to recreate the dish, but I cannot seem to capture that sense of home, you know?
My mom and grandma, they're not big on saying "I'm sorry". But they will insist I eat more after every fight. They might not say "I miss you", but every morning there'd be a packed lunch for school and something waiting for me when I biked home. Food is how they spoke their love.
Food says youβre home. Food says youβre safe. These are things that I will never forget.
Here's the thing - cooking is, very much, work. Real, tangible labor. The labor we put in cooking is not just reflected in the final dish, but also in between.
What is cooking if not love made apparent?
Sure, the act of cooking and eating is temporary, but the work and love that goes into the food last long even after the very last drops of chicken soup have been slurped, and the very last noodle has disappeared from your bowl.
From my girlfriend's beautiful home-cooked meals, the friendly plates made by people I didn't know well before, to hearty meals shared with friends, I am so grateful to be surrounded by love. Really, this is a love letter to the people who have cooked for me. Thank you, I love you, not just for the food, but also for the love, folded into spring rolls sheets by sheets, dampened into the sweet and sour sauce, and for creating a safe space that feels like home.
I am not a great cook by any means, but I am learning. And I can't wait to cook for you more every day. To serve love up on your plate more for as long as I live :")
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Thanks so much for reading!!
Thu Anh.
#wotn3
this is so beautiful <3 good food by loved ones is always special. thank you for this lovely piece!