“My Nana and aunties used to make this when…”
My Nana and my aunties used to make this when the house was full, the kitchen was loud, and everyone somehow ended up standing around the stove waiting for the first bite. 🥰
No written recipe. No measuring cups. Just memory, instinct, and a whole lot of love.
I still remember sitting at the kitchen table, watching them move around like it was a dance — one stirring, one tasting, one saying “it needs just a little more” without ever explaining what “a little more” meant. Somehow, it always turned out perfect.
This was the kind of food that brought everyone together. You could smell it cooking from outside. Neighbors would “just happen” to stop by. Kids would wander in asking, “Is it ready yet?” And when it finally hit the table, the room would go quiet for a second… because everyone was too busy eating.
What I love most about this recipe isn’t just the taste — it’s the memories tied to it. It reminds me of Sunday afternoons, family gatherings, and a time when food wasn’t rushed. It was shared. It was waited for. It was appreciated.
Now I make it the same way they did. I don’t overthink it. I trust my senses. I cook it slowly, with patience, and I always think of them while I’m making it. Funny how a simple dish can carry generations of love.
Every time I serve this, someone asks for the recipe. And every time, I smile — because some recipes are more than ingredients. They’re stories. They’re traditions. They’re home. ❤️
If this post brought back a memory of your Nana, your mom, or your aunties in the kitchen, let me know in the comments.
👉 What dish did your family always make that you’ll never forget?
Don’t lose this one — save it, share it, and pass the tradition on.
