Food & Comfort

How the dishes we love represent the memories we treasure.

There’s a strange moment in my memories of college that, for some reason, has become precious to me. Strange — not because of what it was, but rather what it wasn’t. It wasn’t some epic party story that I would be dying to tell my friends but embarrassed to tell my parents. Nor was it a “time slowed down as our eyes met causing the rest of the world to melt away” romantic encounter straight out of Nancy Meyers film. Instead, it was a mostly unremarkable hour spent with other students from India, eating microwavable dal with re-heated frozen theplas in an unfamiliar dorm study lounge I never returned to.

Like I said, it’s a night I will never forget. I’m always going to remember walking across campus with an at-the-time acquaintance who I now consider my best friend, on a day I missed Mumbai more than usual, to meet one of my best friends from high school who also ended up at the same college as me. I’m always going to remember my first bite of Kitchens of India’s Ready-To-Eat Dal Bhukara, and how it inspired my pre-travel purchases every single semester from there on. Most importantly, I’m always going to remember the connections I formed with the people I shared a meal with on that gorgeously unremarkable, but stunningly unforgettable night.

I bring this memory up for a specific reason. It says something about the power of comfort foods. Comfort food. It’s a term we hear a lot. Publication after publication post articles about and recipes of various comfort foods from different cultures and countries. Many YouTube networks have followed suit. It’s a culinary buzzword at this point - every new fancy gastropub is “re-inventing” the comfort foods we were served growing up. We all have those dishes. Dishes that are nostalgic or sentimental. A gastronomic pile of blankets we can burrow into on particularly challenging days. Dishes that warm us, hug us. Dishes that remind us of simpler times. Food that makes us happy.

As an international student, anytime I head to college, I fill almost an entire suitcase with Indian snacks I love and microwavable versions of foods I eat at home. So do most people I know. Some even receive mid-semester re-stock boxes, to ensure that they don’t run out. I often find myself saving these packets of Maggi and boxes of dosa khakra for not so great days. I’ve had a stressful 12-hour day on set and I’m exhausted. A test hasn’t gone as well as I hoped. I just wish I was back home. Obviously, my bowl of masala noodles isn’t going to reduce my workload, or fix a bad grade, or teleport me back to Mumbai, but it does help me feel better. I apologize for typing this, but it literally comforts me.

Going back to my largely uneventful meal, it was this that made it so special. Dal and thepla is not high up on my list of comfort foods. Yes, the familiarity of the flavours and spices did play a part in making me feel better that night, but it wasn’t something I often turned to on tougher days. What was special, and what made that microwaveable dal a staple in my suitcase every time I headed back to LA, was the memory that came with it. Yes, it wasn’t my comfort food, but it was someone’s comfort food that night. The act of sharing a meal with those people was unintentionally intimate. Considering that I often selfishly save my comfort foods for days when I need them most, to have someone dive into their stash and share some with me on a night where I didn’t even know how I much I needed it, was special. It was so gracious and kind, the type of insignificant act that allows relationships to strengthen. Sharing that meal gave me a sub-conscious deep dive into the minds of the people I met and formed part of the reason my at-the-time acquaintance is now my best friend and so many others on that table are now important people in my life.

Memories are funny that way. Things that seem insignificant, things that we take for granted end up having much larger impacts than we ever intend. Comfort foods begin to represent these memories. They’re tangibles we can touch, taste, hear and smell that help us feel better. That remind us of better times. My comfort food is Sai Bhaji, a Sindhi vegetable curry I hope to explore in an upcoming blog post. There is no standout memory or engaging story that explains why. Growing up, my family used to eat it once a week. It was a sort of routine we practised. At the time, I never thought anything of it, but obviously, all those nights eating a meal with my family resonated with me and now every time I come home after four months of being away, it’s the first meal I eat.

I asked some of our readers on Instagram what their comfort foods were, and the results were fascinating. They were varied and diverse, but clearly indicative of special memories. One respondent spoke of pastel de carne, a Mexican style meatloaf that her mom makes. For her it's not just about the meal, but the fact that its made with love, by someone who loves her. A friend of mine who grew up in India said his comfort food was Birria, a Mexican stew I’m guessing he only truly ate frequently since moving abroad for college. Contrary to popular belief, many of the comfort foods were healthy and nutritious. Some responded with specific ingredients or entire cuisines that they obviously had fond memories of. Many responded with two seemingly unconnected dishes, that they ate together. One even responded with specific foods for specific emotional needs. When someone says their comfort food is beer, it’s because it reminds them of all the pints they shared with people they cared about on nights they’ll cherish forever. I am thankful to everyone who responded because, like I’ve said, sharing your comfort foods with someone is strangely intimate. It’s a window to your most treasured times.

To me not many things exemplify the intersection between food & culture more than all the individual and collective memories that come along with comfort foods. It’s for this very reason I’m hoping for this post to be the first entry in a multi-media series on comfort foods and what they mean to me. I’m sure a lot of you have noticed, but I took an unannounced hiatus from Food&Culture during the month of August. With everything happening in the world, I was often overwhelmed with all the big decisions I was forced to make, and it was during this time I began to really think about how what I ate was such a large part of how I coped. Anyway, I’m back now, and I’m very excited for all the cool stuff we have coming. Our next post will be another guest post, followed by my second entry into in my comfort food series. Until then, I hope all of you are well. I’ll see you soon.

Stay Golden. Stay you.