Moving away from Haiti was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. It’s not just the physical distance, but the emotional disconnect from everything that shaped me, the sounds, the language, the people, and, of course, the food. There’s one thing, though, that always brings me back home: my aunt’s cooking. Every time she prepares a meal, the kitchen fills with the rich, comforting scents of Haiti, as though the essence of my country is wrapped in every dish. One of my favorite meals is soup joumou. More than just a soup, it’s a part of our history. Made with squash, beef, pork, and vegetables, served with Italian bread, it’s a dish that brings my family together. Traditionally eaten on New Year’s Day to celebrate our independence, my aunt’s soup feels like more than just food, it’s a celebration of freedom, strength, and resilience. With every spoonful, it’s like tasting the spirit of our ancestors. Another dish I cherish is diri ak lalo (rice with jute leaves), a meal I used to enjoy with my mom. Sadly, my aunt doesn’t know how to make it, so I can’t enjoy it as much as I’d like. It’s a dish filled with memories of home, especially with my mom. We both enjoy it more than any of the rest of my family. I wish my mom was in the US to be able to experience that with her again. Food is more than just nourishment; it’s a connection to my roots, my family, and a part of me that never fades, no matter how far away I am.

 

– AP

Relationship:  Child of im/migrant Child of im/migrant