Let’s face it, being responsible for yourself is not fun. The luxuries of living at “home” are far gone when one moves away for college, work, or for any other opportunity. I used to revel in the spoils of living with my parents in my undergraduate career, with access to free laundry, home-cooked meals (the lack of which is currently the bane of my existence), and a queen bed. However, when I had to move away to attend Heller last August, I had no idea what I was in for.
Having lived at home all my life until graduate school had its perks. I had the privilege of waking up every morning to the smell of some new meal my mother was cooking or a fresh cup of chai. When I had dirty clothes, I simply put them in the hamper and did the laundry downstairs in the basement. Little did I know that these would be luxuries compared to my current circumstances.
Who would have thought that the toughest part of moving away was moving away from my mother’s chicken curry with purple top turnips? The gravy she cooks it in is thinner and slightly spicier, saturating the softened turnips and making the chicken pieces fall off the bone. I cannot guarantee that I am not salivating while typing this but the nostalgia is so strong, I can smell it right now. To cope with this, I exhausted the many options available on Uber Eats, Grubhub, Doordash, and Caviar. If I am missing some services, please let me know… although I’d rather not know, just so I still afford rent. Leaving behind my mother’s cooking in Scranton, I explored the plethora of cuisines found in the Greater Boston area. From my favorite, the Bittersweet Shoppe on Newbury St., to Kimchipapi, I have had a taste of food that was not available back at home. However, there are times when I fondly remember my mother’s handmade pithas or even, at times, her simple chicken curry.
To mitigate this, I started making food my mother would make at home in my apartment. FaceTime, my savior this semester, came in handy whenever the gravy to one of the curries I was making had the wrong viscosity or looked “off.” My mother, the hard-working woman she is, would answer the call at all times to guide me through the process. I remade her recipes and came up with ones of my own. The taste is not the same, but it is something. I know the journey life has taken me is one towards success, but I can never forget those who protected me throughout that journey. Brandeis is offering me an enriched and wonderful education, but it did take away eating my mother’s meals. It is a very difficult trade-off but I have been able to manage with the help of video chats and phone calls. It is not all that bad, though. I am sure there is a return on investment hiding there somewhere…