Comfort food wraps you in a warm blanket. This past week, I found myself craving that kind of nourishment.
The classic chicken noodle soup from the U.S. was nowhere to be found in the Japanese aisles. I pivoted to another favorite: a creamy cheddar and broccoli soup.
There is something therapeutic about making a meal from scratch. The dish had been a long-forgotten comfort, and as the soup simmered, I couldn't wait to share it. Watching my husband enjoy it for the first time made the process special.
As I cooked, I thought about what comfort means. For some, it is a family recipe. For me, it is tied to my childhood and college days: homemade guacamole, chicken and dumplings, a simple chocolate chip cookie.
These tastes feel like home. They remind me of simpler times.
Interestingly, I do not have a specific Japanese comfort food. Maybe this is because I spent so many formative years in the U.S. My healing, nostalgic feeling comes from the familiar.
This is the beauty of comfort food. It doesn’t have to fit neatly into any cultural box. It is about the memory it brings back, the emotion it stirs, and the way it makes you feel cared for. It is the language of warmth.
Until next time, stay warm and comfortable.
Mugi