Home is Wherever My Mother Is
For me, home is wherever my mother is. I talk about the places I want to be and where it most feels like home to me, and it's always wherever she is. You know as long as I'm close by and she's with me, that for me feels like home.
Growing up in Oslo, Norway, I was surrounded by different cultures and flavors. My family settled in Oslo after a move out of the US, and our Somali heritage became a big part of my life. Our kitchen was always filled with the aroma of turmeric and cumin, which added a bright orange-yellow color to our dishes. The turmeric gives our sugar a very warm flavor, and I love it.
While cooking for my family, I would often help my mother prepare traditional Somali dishes. One of her favorite recipes is a stir-fry made with beef, green peppers, and spices. She would cook the beef and add in sliced bell peppers, which are commonly used in Somalian cuisine. The dish was always flavorful and filling, and it became one of my favorites as well.
For me, cooking is not just about following a recipe; it's about sharing stories and traditions with my family and friends. I love experimenting with new ingredients and flavors, but there's something special about cooking traditional Somali dishes that feels like home.
One day, while researching for a cookbook, I realized how much variety there is within Somali cuisine. While some families have their own unique twists on traditional recipes, others stick closely to the original methods. I wanted to explore this diversity and share it with the world.
As I delved deeper into my heritage, I learned that cooking is not just about food; it's about community and tradition. In Somalia, meals are often shared with family and friends, and the act of cooking is a way of showing love and respect. This is something that I want to share with others through my cooking.
If you had to eat one dish for the rest of your life, what would it be? For me, it's definitely gołąbki, a traditional Polish dish that my mother used to make for me when I was growing up. The combination of tender cabbage rolls and flavorful sauce is something that I never tire of.
Cooking for me is a way of showing love and appreciation for the people in my life. It's a language that speaks directly to the heart, and it's something that I want to share with others. Whether we're sitting around the table or sharing stories over social media, food has the power to bring us together.
One day, while cooking, I realized how much I had learned from my mother. She taught me about the importance of patience, tradition, and community in cooking. Her recipes are not just a list of ingredients; they're a way of passing down stories and memories from one generation to the next.
As I looked at the finished dish, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment. The stir-fry was complete, and it smelled like my mother's kitchen. I added a squeeze of lime juice and a sprinkle of cilantro, just as she would have done.
The beauty of Somali cuisine lies in its simplicity and diversity. From the spices used to the ingredients chosen, every detail is a reflection of the culture and traditions that come before it. As I continued to cook and explore my heritage, I realized that food has the power to bridge gaps between cultures and communities.
In our neighboring countries like Eritrea and Ethiopia, the heat from chilies is often added directly to fruit and other dishes. This gives a unique flavor profile that is distinct from many Western cuisines. While cooking for me may involve adding heat to taste, I also appreciate the tradition of using spices to bring out the natural flavors in ingredients.
As I sat down to enjoy my stir-fry, I couldn't help but think about the conversations that had been told about where I came from. For a long time, I felt like my Somali heritage was something that needed to be explained or justified, rather than simply accepted as part of who I am. But researching for this cookbook has shown me that there's more to it than just a single story.
Africa is not a country, nor are cuisines monolithic. Every culture has its own unique flavors and traditions, shaped by history, geography, and community. As I explored the world of Somali cuisine, I realized that food is not just about sustenance; it's about connection, tradition, and storytelling.
The Solar on a Bed of Lettuce
One of my favorite dishes to make is a simple stir-fry made with beef, green peppers, and spices. It's a classic Somalian recipe that's easy to prepare and always flavorful. To make it, I sauté sliced beef in a pan until it's browned, then add in sliced bell peppers and cook until they're tender-crisp. The dish is seasoned with a blend of spices, including turmeric, cumin, and coriander.
As I cooked the stir-fry, I couldn't help but think about the importance of community in Somali cuisine. In Somalia, meals are often shared with family and friends, and the act of cooking is a way of showing love and respect. This tradition extends beyond the kitchen to include sharing food with neighbors and strangers alike.
The beauty of this dish lies in its simplicity and versatility. The beef and peppers can be replaced with other ingredients, such as chicken or tofu, making it accessible to a wide range of dietary needs. The spices used add a unique flavor profile that's distinct from many Western cuisines.
One day, while cooking, I realized how much I had learned from my mother. She taught me about the importance of patience, tradition, and community in cooking. Her recipes are not just a list of ingredients; they're a way of passing down stories and memories from one generation to the next.
As I looked at the finished dish, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment. The stir-fry was complete, and it smelled like my mother's kitchen. I added a squeeze of lime juice and a sprinkle of cilantro, just as she would have done.