The First Taste of Home

I had been in Germany for almost a month when I finally cooked my first proper meal. Until then, I was mostly living off takeout and instant noodles—quick, convenient, and honestly, kind of depressing. I was in Kleve, a small city in NRW, where finding halal Pakistani food wasn’t easy, especially the kind that actually tastes like home.

One evening, I finally decided I’d had enough. I got on a video call with my mom and told her, “Aaj chicken karahi banani hai.” She walked me through every step from her kitchen back home—how much masala to use, when to add the tomatoes, and the little tricks only moms know. The smell, the sizzle, the warmth—it was the closest I’d felt to home since arriving.

It wasn’t just food—it was the first time Germany started to feel less foreign.

That chicken karahi turned out better than I expected—familiar, flavorful, and exactly what I’d been missing. In that small student kitchen, over a patchy video call, I tasted something I hadn’t in weeks: comfort. And just like that, I stopped living on noodles.