Food
Coming-of-age is an opinion column where Ateneans share their thoughts on a specific topic that fits Vantage’s beats. From in-depth analyses of TV series to miscellaneous musings in music (and everything in between), this is a space to spread and inspire thought-provoking ideas.
In this piece, Vantage Magazine Staffer Bree explores the concept of a mother’s touch in home-cooked meals. By taking a look at her past, she recalls her culinary journey and love for food. With her mother’s teachings and heavy influence, her perspective on food and how it can become a personal and beloved aspect of life has been shaped indefinitely.
Trigger warning: This article contains mentions of death.
A WARM bowl of chicken tinola was a reward that would always resolve sad and tiresome days. Although this dish is flavorfully mild compared to other Filipino offerings, it was made so mouthwateringly memorable through my mother’s touch and love that it became my driving inspiration. Through that, food, for me, became more than just a vessel of nourishment for the body—it came to embody memories, conversations, and love.
Growing up, my mother and I would sneak out of our rooms and scan through television channels until we landed on TLC, a digital world full of travel, cooking, and good eats! I was mesmerized as the home cooks and celebrity chefs showed off the vibrant colors of vegetables and the freshness of other ingredients. How they arranged and processed individual pieces to curate dishes carved its way into my heart. It was an art I believed I could adopt and hone.
Beyond television screens, my love for cooking also blossomed in the kitchen with my mother. Whether by helping her chop vegetables, cleaning the kitchen, or setting the table, I learned to speak her love language: the joyful, even if quiet, art of cooking. I looked forward to communicating with her in said dialect every day I was back home.
However, it didn’t last forever. Her already quiet art became quieter on a long, devastating road to oblivion, which all began when she was first diagnosed in 2020 with cancer. At that time, I noticed that she prepared meals less often. Kitchen time was also slowly replaced with days at the hospital or bedridden nights. When she passed, not only did her soul and presence go away with her, but also her cooking.
Nowadays, my family and I often eat outside or order in, but neither of which could compare to what my mother would prepare before. To our merit, we would usually eat at restaurants we used to visit with my mother. However, whatever food we may eat, I still look for that sense of home and comfort that my mother effortlessly brought to the table every time we gathered.
Truthfully, I haven’t eaten tinola as much as when she was alive. I have gotten busier, and the same goes for the rest of my family. Even more, the time to thoughtfully prepare food was set aside, with our main priority shifting to just sating our hunger.
Funnily enough, I only noticed the importance of my mom’s caring touch in food after she passed. Now, as I continue to navigate life without her, I find myself searching for that sprinkle of love and warmth she put in everything she had forged for my family.
As I approach the last leg of my stay here at the Ateneo, under a course that blends culinary arts with restaurant management, I shape my gastronomic style in a way that echoes my mother’s: bursting with joy, intention, and love.
Whenever I hear stories of food and cooking from other people and their mindset behind whipping it up, I see that food really is a universal language. Our favorite comfort food is not only for art or nourishment, but also because of love and memory, maybe from the first bite itself.
The comforting touch that made simple food taste so much better was always sustained by my mother, and I believe that we can pass that same touch onto the food we prepare for our loved ones. Any type of food is something to slow down for, to both appreciate and honor.
Now, if I am able to find the time and energy, I cook at home. I try to apply the same ideas my mother showed me when I was younger, just more adventurous and experimental. Other than that, being involved in many course projects where we conceptualize and collaborate to craft just the right menu made me see that food is an extension—an expression, perhaps—of those who made it.
As I near the end of college, I hope to someday have a successful career in my highest passion. Through it all, I remind myself to remain intentional, cook from the heart, and carry the people who shaped my love for the food I serve.
