The kids are back from school. The humidity is killing, and they look visibly relieved to be back in the cool confines of our home. I get started with preparations to make dosa, a South Indian delicacy that lends itself to many variants.
As I stir the batter and spread it on the tawa, my daughter comes in to the kitchen after her shower. She sniffs and says, “Hmmmm…this smells so good. It smells like grandma’s kitchen.”
I smile. As she eats the crisp, golden dosa with chutney powder, I am transported to my childhood home, and to my mom’s kitchen.
In many ways, the kitchen was the nerve centre of our home. It was rectangular in shape. The cooking range was at one end, while the dining table was at the other end. A square window lit the dining area from 11 am in the morning to mid-afternoon.
Our kitchen was colour coordinated. I remember a red phase and a blue phase. The dining table had an assortment of home-made pickles.
There was always a buzz in the kitchen. With a joint family, there was always something being prepared. We came home from school to the aroma of filter coffee, and dosas with sambhar, or bajjis or some other snack wafting through the air.
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I spent a lot of time doing Math at the dining table. The radio blared in the background as I tried to solve equations!
My mom would walk between the stove and the table at least a zillion times each day, always cheerful and busy.
When all of us sat down to have dinner, even after our plates were dry, we would linger on, either sharing how our day went, or singing or listening to my Dad sharing snippets from his day.
Televesion soaps had not invaded our lives then. We would all listen to the news on the radio, and then head back to our rooms to study or squabble with our siblings, or chit chat with our grandma and aunt.
Truly, the smells of my mom’s kitchen were delicious and filled with love, happiness and bonding.
Beautiful and nostalgic. Our kitchen was the epicenter of our family life. Always. ๐ Those familiar aromas on coming home…that would bring me back to a place of harmony. I tried my best to provide that for my own kids, and was blessed to be able to be a stay at home mom for those early years. I never took the privilege for granted.
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Loved the word ‘epicenter’. Yes, as moms that is what we want to provide. And being a stay at home mom is truly a privilege. I just loved your comment. Thank you ๐ค
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The kitchen is often a hub of activity. Too bad the women in my family aren’t great cooks…
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Yes…totally agree. I am sure you’re not that bad a cook๐
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You’ve never eaten my cooking. Well, actually, I do a mean frozen pizza if I may say so myself!
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Ha ha Lol
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Growing up, the kitchen was the heart of our home too. I wonder if my boys feel that way about their childhood. Even though our kitchen is small and cramped, it still seems to be where everyone collects when they come home.
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I am sure they do..’the heart of our home’…just loved that line
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The smells from childhood often provide smiles and comfort in adulthood. ๐
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Indeed
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I absolutely love this, it’s beautiful writing. I hope that one day, my own children can view our kitchen in this way.
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Thank you for stopping by and your lovely comment.
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