Everyone has that one meal that brings back memories, calms the soul, and feels like a warm hug. For me, it’s pounded yam and vegetable soup. Rice and beans come very close, but if I had to pick one, it’s the pounded yam combo. There's just something about it that speaks to me on another level.
Growing up, my mom made these meals so well that they naturally became my favorites. Whenever she made pounded yam with vegetable soup, it was like a celebration, even if it was just a regular weekday. She didn’t need a reason; sometimes she’d just feel like cooking something hearty, and I was always ready to eat.
I remember how she would prepare the soup with care, usually using ugu or waterleaf, sometimes both, and make sure everything was properly seasoned. The aroma alone could pull you out of any bad mood. And the yam? Always smooth and soft, no lumps. I can’t lie, I used to eat more than I probably should have, but I never got tired of it. Even now, that hasn’t changed. If I see it on the table, best believe I’m going for seconds (or thirds).
The same goes for rice and beans. It may sound simple, but when my mom makes it, it tastes like something special. Whether it’s white rice with honey beans or jollof-style rice mixed with beans, I’m clearing my plate. She has this way of making it taste just right, not too soft, not too dry, and always with a side of stew or plantain. That’s a combo I’ll never get bored of.
What makes these meals even more special to me now is the fact that I don’t get to eat them as often. I live far away from home, and that means I hardly get to enjoy my mom’s cooking anymore. It’s funny how something so ordinary growing up now feels rare and priceless. I try to recreate her recipes sometimes, but let’s be honest, it's never quite the same. There’s a kind of love and care she puts into her cooking that I haven’t been able to copy.
Whenever I do get the chance to go home, those are the first meals I ask for. It’s not just about the taste anymore. It’s the feeling it brings. A feeling of comfort, of being taken care of, of childhood memories and laughter around the dining table. It reminds me of who I am and where I come from.
So yes, pounded yam and vegetable soup, and rice and beans, those are my comfort meals. They fill more than just my stomach; they fill a space in my heart. And even though I might live far from home now, those flavors will always bring me a little closer to it.