Connecting With My Late Father Through His Favorite Meal
I miss my dad, but eating spicy Indian curry helps me feel his presence
It’s been several years since my dad passed away, and I often find myself reminiscing about our last trip together to India. Dad left the country as a young man in his early twenties. It took him almost 60 years to return with his two grown sons, both eager to learn more about his past.
Dad finished chemo that spring and was in fighting spirits. I couldn’t wait to go back to India—I’d backpacked through the country many years before. The opportunity to visit all his old haunts was too good to pass up.
Dad rarely spoke of his time growing up on the subcontinent or what life was like for him as a Jew in 1950s Mumbai. Occasionally, he’d mention the Catholic school he attended, or he’d talk about winning all the awards in various sports. My brother and I giggled and pretended we didn’t believe him. Now I regret not asking him more about his life. It’s an opportunity I’ll never get back.
Since his time away from India, my dad had developed a singular vision—a borderline obsession with one type of curry. Whatever restaurant or country he was in, the chana masala was his only dish of choice. Perhaps it reminded him of his mother’s cooking or some forgotten haunt…
