As a young girl I used to avoid cooking chores as I would rather lose myself in the fantastic world of books.

Growing up with a father and mother each owning their own restaurant I had to help a lot especially in my mom's restaurant. I used to dislike it but mom wouldn't hear anything so I had to learn.

Having been in the Netherlands since I was 15 years I am grateful that my parents forced me to learn cooking.

Cooking African food brings me joy, the process of hunting for ingredients bring me back to when mom used to take me around Taouya market and watch how she pick and bargained for ingredients. Sometimes I find myself imitating her making me feel nostalgic.

The first few years after coming to the Netherlands my relationship with my mom was strained and I avoided her as much I could. Last few years we have opened up a dialogue even though it is not easy and cooking is one of the way I try to reconnect with her.

This soup Blanche (white stew/soup) I learned from her recently, still being taught by her grounds me in a world where I am not welcomed and feel lost. Hopefully one day my mom and I will be in same kitchen sharing our hospitality with family, friends and strangers.

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