I knew the taste of home before I knew much else about my culture. Growing up in Benin, food filled my childhood memories. I loved fresh mangoes, sweet papayas, and snacks like kuli-kuli and atchomon. Dinner was my favorite time. I’d eagerly watch my mom set the table, ready to dive into a delicious feast of rice, yams, hearty stews, and spices. After each meal, I’d happily tell her, “Maman, nuɖuɖu ɔ vivi tawun”—“Mom, the food is very delicious.”
When I moved to the United States, I was worried I’d lose that taste of home. Thankfully, we discovered an African market nearby. It stocked some of the essential ingredients for our favorite dishes. Slowly, we began cooking Beninese meals again. Limited options didn’t stop us from feeling connected to our roots. Then we found Saraga in Indianapolis. This big store had products from every continent, quickly becoming our go-to spot. I loved tagging along, exploring aisles and suggesting recipes for the week.
These markets didn’t just provide food; they kept our culture alive. I could talk to my family back home about what I ate—spreading our culinary customs across oceans. I didn’t realize how much these vibrant immigrant communities shaped my culinary experience until I moved to Ann Arbor.
After I started at the University of Michigan, I searched for African restaurants in Ann Arbor. I was surprised to find only two: Blue Nile Ethiopian Restaurant and El Harissa Market Cafe. They didn’t specialize in West African dishes. The one African market was far from campus. Suddenly, I felt disconnected from my culinary culture.
To tackle this, my family began meal prepping for me. Instead of packing just clothes and decor for my dorm, I filled Tupperware with my favorite home-cooked Beninese meals. Each dish included the same comforting mix of starch, stew, protein, and spice, giving me a taste of familiarity during my first days at college. However, with every meal I consumed, I felt memories of home fading.
Ann Arbor became a challenge of patience and adjustment. I found new comfort foods around campus, like meat patties from Jamaican Jerk Pit or biryani from Taste of India Suvai. While it was exciting to explore diverse cuisines, nothing could really replace the flavors that defined my childhood.
Every return trip home becomes a ritual. I load my Tupperware with familiar ingredients, visiting Saraga and local markets, soaking in the sights and smells. Each trip nourishes not just my hunger but my heart. I cherish every family meal and prepare for the next journey back to school. Until that, I savor my frozen treasures, each bite igniting memories of family and home.
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