When times were hard, she did everything she could to cope with what life has thrown at her. There were many circumstances in the early decades while the family was working hard towards a better quality of life that would make or break a person. I’ve always seen mother as one of the women in my life with strength of many and I was raised with that strength, the ability to choose and live an extraordinary independent life.
I was always a handful for my mother. Too much alike, I think, principled and stubborn. When the principles we lived by are on opposite end coupled with the stubbornness of a bull on both side, it doesn’t bode well for relationship. Fast forward the years, the family and I have learnt that mother and I are not to live under one roof for a prolonged period of time. Relationship healed and now better than ever before.
While making soup this weekend, I remembered the times spent watching mother cooking. Happy memories of my younger days with mother were in the kitchen, sitting on the counter top while observing her and listening to her talking about how to prepare and cook the dishes for the family’s evening meal. She has all the recipes in her head, so I’ve always thought she just followed what’s been passed down by her mother or shared by friends plus a bit of improvisation. It made the experience all the more interesting.
Those memories stayed with me and made me the kind of cook I am, read and listen then improvise with whatever I can get my hands on at home. Living in the UK, there are many ingredients are hard to get hence the improvisation. Lucky that I have a bit of creative gene in me 🙂
My relationship with food can be volatile. One of my ways to eat well and get back in love with food is to remember the times in the kitchen with mother, making food from memories and trying to remember the tips she gave me over the years.
Mother, thank you for taking time to teach me to be independent and to cook well. Thank you for showing me strength when times were hard. I love you.

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