Growing up, a staple lunch or dinner in my household would comprise two vegetable dishes, one of which would most likely be a potato preparation. This routine was broken only when work or travel forced my father to have a meal outside.
As mother took a break from kitchen duties, my brother and I were allowed to have anything our hearts desired, provided we could cook it ourselves and clean up after. We used this freedom to prepare Indianised Hakka or macaroni – greasy and spicy enough to numb our taste buds.
When I started living by myself at the age of 21, I realised I had the opportunity to defy these gastronomical norms each day. I took advantage of this liberty to the best of my abilities in a way that would send shivers down the spine of any well- (or moderately)-adjusted adult.
Of course, it took only a few months for me to get bored the feasts I had dreamt of as a 12-year-old. But it still another few years before I started exploring how to effectively include appropriate amounts of protein to my plate.
It was only in 2025, however, that I discovered the appeal of “ghar ka khana”, or homemade food. I spent hours in my kitchen recreating my mother’s recipes – the same ones I had been deliberately running away from.
She calls this the process of fools returning home. (Against my will, I agree.)
Jackfruit curry, preparations with bitter gourd, bottle gourd and pumpkin, and biriyani are some of the dishes I tried (and perfected, I say, at the cost of sounding pompous) this year.
I learnt at which precise stage of cooking each type of vegetable needed salt added to it so as not to turn into a soggy mess. I learnt the exact amount of gram flour required to be added to koftas so that they don’t become brittle.
Each dish I made, I gorged on enthusiastically. For me, 2025 was when I discovered the joy of cooking for one (and failed at portion control).
