The best chef is your hunger
A story of a mother’s legacy in the kitchen and her daughter's cooking journey.
When I started writing the story for this post, it didn't occur to me that I would be posting it today, Women’s Day, of all days. I nearly clung to my decision not to post it because it is so personal and vulnerable.
But this messy chapter isn’t just my cooking origin story; it’s a tribute to my mom, a way to honour her memory and celebrate her legacy. It’s also the kitchen fire that shaped everything I now know about mental health, metabolism, healing and much more, and aye, the catalyst for this newsletter.
So, here we go.
In March 2004, after my mom died, I started cooking on my own for the first time. That was after years of close observation of her cooking, internalising principles she used in the kitchen (and life), and shy attempts at cooking together.
That spring, I suddenly found myself without her guidance, trying to make sense of how to feed our big family nutritious meals on a very tight budget. What followed were years of real struggle because of this constraint, years when I constantly asked myself: “How did she do it? How did she manage to feed us all despite the hardship?”
I also thought,” How the h*ck did she know when something was done? Or what ingredients to use?”
Things started falling into place when I realised what her secret was. Although most of her dishes were different, they used many of the same ingredients, like soups and stews, which had onions, garlic, celery, and carrots as their base. That way, our family would always get a variety of dishes that tasted completely new.
Armed with this knowledge, my cooking started to change and become cohesive as I got the knack for what ingredients pair well and how to strike the balance of sweet, sour, salty, and spicy in a dish.
But 2012 - the year I spent 2 months for a work training in China - was the year I started to know food. That experience was so formative that it significantly changed my approach to cooking and creating recipes. I started to train my palate and sense of smell and touch by constantly exposing myself to new foods and experimenting with spices and aromas like ginger, turmeric, etc.
Through that process, I found joy in making mistakes in the kitchen because they helped me create some of my best recipes and taught me how breaking the rules can make a dish both interesting and darn yummy.
I also learned to enjoy the process and the dish in equal measure, the hunt for ingredients and the dance of flavours on my tongue.
On the funny side, the first time I tasted ginger in a Chinese dish, I asked myself why someone would pour a bottle of perfume into food.
Come 2014, I started travelling a lot and picking up nuggets of knowledge about the cuisine of each country I visited. From Italy, I picked their habit of cooking delicious meals with a few simple ingredients, from Morocco, I brought back a love for the tajine technique of preparing food, after China, I made ginger my best friend; Norway taught me to love root vegetables; and from Romania - my mother country, I took with me the soup legacy.
Then the 2020 pandemic hit, and with it came the isolation and the cry for a creative outlet to keep me sane. That was the year I relocated to the UK and started to have new ingredients at my disposal. And my cooking changed again.
The hater of pumpkins and squashes becomes the lover of squashes. Lol I didn’t think that would happen in a million years.
It was also the year I began mentoring my friend Radu, who was a stranger to the kitchen, proper grocery shopping, and anything cooking-related.
That tested not only my abilities but also my willingness to stretch them beyond what I already knew and was comfortable with. He had a weird habit of bringing home all sorts of new veggies that I had to find a way to cook with.
All these experiences taught me so much about connection with food, nature, and myself. But also, that food tastes better when shared and savoured with the people you love, and meals are the best excuse to bring them together more often.
Telling the story behind this process is, in part, a gift to my friends and, in part, a way to capture stories I don’t want to forget. It’s a way to reflect on my journey and pass it on to future generations.
In this spirit, I’ll crown the story with a recipe I was inspired to create for dinner one night when I got super hungry while reminiscing about my trip to Rome with my friend Sultana. As my mom would say, “hunger is the best chef”.
I miss you, Mom. And I wish we had more time.
Oven-baked humble chickpeas with sun-dried tomatoes
This recipe is simple and comforting. It can be enjoyed alone or paired with fish or other meat.
Serves:2
Cooking time: 25-30 mins
Ingredients
1 can of chickpeas
1 teaspoon of ghee
1 medium shallot
1 garlic clove
3-4 dried tomatoes
1 can of tomato sauce (this can also be easily prepped at home)
125 g mozzarella cheese
1/2 teaspoon of Italian or Provence herbs
Pinch of salt, freshly ground pepper
Method
Set your oven to 180°C (350°F) (without the fan function) or 160°C (with the fan function)
Dice your shallot (hello crying) and garlic (gut yummy) and fry them in a pan on medium heat for 2-3 minutes or until softened and lightly translucent, stirring regularly.
Add the rinsed chickpeas, herbs, diced dried tomatoes, salt, and pepper. Cook the mixture for 5 minutes and then set aside.
In a baking dish, add cooked chickpeas, the can of tomato sauce and the mozzarella slices on top, then pop it in the oven for about 18-20 minutes
When it is done, let it cool for a few minutes, then garnish it with basil or other fresh herbs you like.
Enjoy it with a fresh side salad - I like a simple one of rocket and cherry tomatoes.
P.S. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did. x