12/07/2026
FOOD IS A LOVE LANGUAGE ❤️
I spent 4 hours making a curry today. (Not this one here, Strone Henry made this one. It’s his favourite curry. 😍)
While making it I thought of Sundays at my grandmother’s place. There was ALWAYS a curry with rice, a roasted meat (lamb was my favourite), roasted or steamed veg and a chicken, either fried or roasted.
My grandfather would always eat his curry first like it was a starter. 🤣 He was a very gentle giant though, so it’s understandable.
The curries would vary from mutton or lamb, tripe and trotters, or a simple butter bean curry. They all held that turmeric-yellow glow and tasted like home.
Then there’s my mama’s curry. I didn’t get to have it much because she lived in Hermanus, but whenever I knew I’d see her I’d ask her to make me her lamb curry.
I was craving it all week but only had beef, so I made a curry and realised the labour of love I requested of these women, who always happily obliged. (How they afforded to still baffles me now that I am a mother.)
I no longer have them around, but I felt them today. With every stir, through every addition of spice, through the patience of waiting for the meat to soften just enough before I add the potatoes so that they soften together in the flavours of THEIR LOVE through me.
I hope one day, years from now, my daughter catches the scent of a dish and thinks, “This smells like home. This smells like Mom and Dad’s love.”
And if that happens, I hope those who came before her share a smile in heaven, knowing that every hour they spent in the kitchen, every meal they lovingly prepared, didn’t end with them. That their love was poured into us, passed down through generations, and continues as our inheritance.
Because every time I cook slowly, I realise I’m not just feeding my family, I’m continuing theirs. ❤️
