Love Served Hot: A Plate Full of Memories

They say, “Food is memories seasoned with love,” and I must agree—because when someone asks me the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten, I freeze like a spoon in kulfi. How on earth can I choose one?

Each bite from my life tells a story.
My mom’s chicken curry? It’s not just a dish—it’s an emotion. Every time she makes it, it tastes a little different, like she’s added an invisible spice called nostalgia.
My husband’s mutton chops? Let’s just say, when he’s in the kitchen, Gordon Ramsay might take notes (or at least smell jealousy in the air).
And my friend’s bisibele bath? A warm, spicy, comforting hug disguised as food. She could honestly settle wars with that dish—just one bite and you forget why you were mad in the first place.

“Some eat to live, I live to relive,” I once joked while licking off sambhar from my fingers.

Food, for me, has always been more about who made it and how it made me feel. Even a humble dosa wrapped in paper from a roadside stall tasted better because I ate it with my childhood friend while skipping tuitions.

The secret ingredient in every unforgettable dish? Love, laughter, and just the right amount of second helpings.

Thought to Ponder:
“If you can’t remember the recipe, remember the moment. That’s what truly fills you up.”