SEPT 13 — There are some things you don’t realise you miss until you are far away from home.
When we travelled from Malaysia to China to work as educators, we expected the usual challenges that come with living abroad—adjusting to a new environment, learning new routines, navigating unfamiliar surroundings and, of course, adapting to a different food culture.
But nobody really prepares you for the small cravings.
The sudden longing for something you have eaten countless times without ever thinking twice about it. The kind of craving that makes you realise that food is not simply about hunger. Sometimes, it is about familiarity.
One day, a group of us started talking about poori. We were all Malaysian educators working in China, and somehow, we had collectively developed the same craving. That conversation could easily have ended with, “I miss Malaysian food.” Instead, I thought, Why not make it ourselves?
So I decided to make poori using my mother’s recipe. Poori is a popular South Asian deep-fried flatbread made from unleavened dough. It is typically rolled into small rounds and fried until it puffs up into a light, golden, crispy bread.
Perhaps this is what happens when you live far away from home. You begin to appreciate the things you once took for granted.
Recipes that once seemed ordinary suddenly become precious. The way your mother makes something, the taste you grew up with, even the little imperfections of a homemade meal begin to carry meaning.
I followed my mother’s recipe as best as I could, and for the accompaniment, I decided on sardine sambal.
It was not an elaborate meal.
There was no fancy plating or carefully curated menu. It was simply poori and sardine sambal, made in a Chinese kitchen by a Malaysian who was missing a taste of home.
Yet, when I served it to my colleagues, something interesting happened. Everyone ate. Within 10 minutes, everything was finished.
That moment made me think about why food matters so much when we are away from home. We often talk about adapting to another country as though it is simply a matter of becoming comfortable with new surroundings.
But adapting does not necessarily mean leaving everything familiar behind. Sometimes, adapting means finding ways to carry a little bit of home with us. And food does exactly that.
A plate of poori can carry memories. A particular sambal can remind us of family. A familiar smell can transport us thousands of kilometres away without us ever leaving the room.
More importantly, food creates community. We were not just colleagues that day.
We were a group of Malaysians who shared the same craving, sitting together and enjoying something that reminded us of home. That simple moment united us.
Perhaps it was because we were all experiencing life away from Malaysia together. Perhaps it was because, for those few minutes, we were no longer thinking about work, responsibilities or the unfamiliarity of being in another country. We were simply enjoying something that belonged to all of us.
The poori became more than a meal. It became a shared experience—a small reminder that even when we are far from home, we are not necessarily alone. It also reminded me that homesickness does not always arrive dramatically.
Sometimes, it arrives quietly. It appears when you suddenly crave your favourite breakfast. When you miss the food your mother used to make. When you realise that the meal you never thought twice about back home is something you now have to make yourself.
And perhaps that is not necessarily a bad thing. Being away from home has taught me to value home differently.
Malaysia is no longer just the country I came from. It is in the recipes I remember, the flavours I recreate, the food I share and the memories I carry with me.
That day in China, I did not bring Malaysia back with me. I simply brought a plate of poori to the table. But for 10 very happy minutes, it felt like home had come along too.
Maybe that is the real power of food. It does not need to travel with us in our suitcases. It travels in our memories, in our hands and in the recipes passed down to us.
And sometimes, when we find ourselves thousands of kilometres from home, all it takes is a little flour, a mother’s recipe, some sardine sambal and a group of hungry Malaysians to remind us where we came from — and to remind us that even far from home, a simple meal can bring people together and make strangers feel a little more like family.
* Matthuri Palanee is an English Language Lecturer at the Centre for Foundation Studies in Science (PASUM), Universiti Malaya, and can be reached at [email protected]
* This is the personal opinion of the writer or publication and does not necessarily represent the views of Malay Mail.
