Thai Basil Fried Rice
From a young age, I’ve harbored a deep passion for all things related to food. From waking up before dawn to explore the heaping crates of fresh produce at the farmers’ markets, to transforming flavorful raw ingredients into a great final dish, every aspect of the culinary process captivates me. I’m always incredibly happy to be involved in the journey of a warm, home-cooked meal that is bursting with inviting aromas and flavors and textures.
One of my greatest influences is my godmother, who taught me the ins and outs of Thai cuisine. She has moved to Australia since, but there’s so much of her warmth and comfort in knowing how to make her Thai basil fried rice. She’s right there, adding brown sugar to the unlikeliest of dishes, and reminding me to keep tasting. I was 9 when I took my first cooking class. The days and weeks that followed are a nostalgic blur of banana walnut muffins to surprise my dad on a Sunday morning, chocolate mug cakes to dig into with my little sister as we watched Full House and large tins of jelly biscuits, wrapped with pretty purple bows, to take to my favorite aunt.
Chasing that passion, I did something I had never planned on. In my sophomore year, I started a cooking blog. I sent it out to my aunts, my uncles, my cousins, my grandparents, my best friends, my classmates, my teachers, my gardener’s second cousin’s wife and even the girl I met in the frozen aisle at the supermarket and never saw again. In all honesty, I wasn’t very good, especially not when I started. The chocolate fudge was a cake when I put on my apron to make it. But it didn’t matter to me, for what I remember is how I bonded with the people I love in making those dishes and sharing them. I’ll remember how excited my cousins were as we sat down to our breakfast of blueberry pancakes and a skillet hash brown. I’ll remember how much my baby cousin laughed when I turned on the electric mixer a moment too soon, and flour flew all over the house. I’ll remember how my best friend teared up on her 17th birthday, when we surprised her with a dark chocolate cake, thick with chocolate ganache and vanilla buttercream and her favorite silver milk chocolate sprinkles. Those were the very feelings I wanted to share with the world. One recipe at a time, my blog enabled me to express myself in more fulfilling ways than I could ever have imagined. I took pictures of every stage of my journeys in the kitchen, and I told the tales of all my creative endeavors. I revealed the memories or the cravings that inspired them. At the end of it all, I exhibited each plat du jour, with an unchanging pride and excitement.
No matter how far I go, I’ll always take with me my whisk, my favorite Corningware cake pan and a bottle of my grandma’s secret-recipe peri peri masala, because to me, cooking isn’t a practice or a chore, and food isn’t merely breakfast, lunch and dinner. It’s experiences. It’s memories. It’s the people I love, and it is living some of my best moments sitting across the table from them, as I share stories, and laugh so hard I cry. It is finding happiness, coming together and celebrating over steaming bowls of Thai basil fried rice.