Written by Natalie Farah Persaud

Mom has always been the cook of the family, from making my father’s lunches to catering for my sister’s school events. Whenever guests come over, no matter who they are, they will always be fed. For me and my sisters, this home has always been the main hangout spot for friends, though Mom can never remember their names. To my sister’s friends, who visited more frequently than even some family, she became “Mama Naz”, everybody’s mom and favourite chef.

Beef curry was never a very special or unusual dish in our home, but now that my sisters have left and I’ve become more independent, it is a meal I see less and less frequently. As Mom ages, she wishes to teach others her recipes, especially her kids. Though I would love to learn, the fact that I wake up a few hours after she finishes cooking definitely doesn’t make it easy. I wish to be able to feed a room of people, as she does, as she saw in her aunt who originally inspired her to cook. 

As a child, I often struggled with eating well, as I was (and still am) a hugely picky eater. To solve this problem, Mom would be watching the clock for when I come home from school, trying to time a freshly cooked pot of beef curry to me walking in the front door. Curry has such a strong and luring scent that I couldn’t help myself from grabbing a plate with roti (a flaky tortilla-like bread). Like my father, I am very loyal to eating my curry with roti rather than rice. I remember walking home from the bus stop a few times, smelling mom’s kitchen from all the way down the street. One Christmas, we bought her an apron with a picture of a dog floating in the air, following the lines of scent in front of it, leading it to a kitchen with the text “What’s my neighbour cooking?”. 

I felt the need to share this meal with more people who hadn't yet experienced what is likely the best indo-caribbean curry in Ottawa, so for my 14th birthday party, the beef curry was the star of the kitchen. Mom and Dad were both surprised that “white people know curry”, in fact most of these white people were big fans of curry. A few even brought some containers home. A week later, I was chatting with a classmate who attended the party, Tessa. She stated that she wasn’t a huge fan of Indian food, so of course I responded with “didn’t you bring home a pot of my mom’s beef curry”.  She was still not a fan of Indian food, though now with the exception of beef curry.
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For Mom, cooking provides a sense of relaxation, a unity between people, a way to keep her family fed, and, most importantly, a home. Her beef curry has never stayed the same, nor will it be the same later. She makes sure to taste all curries she is able to, compare, and change hers to make sure it is the best. To me, no matter how it changes, it will always be the best, because it was made by her.
Some pictures from my 14th birthday party, at which we served the beef curry