Tastes of Home

Having now lived in four different countries, I have had a lot of homes over my lifetime. And from this scattered landscape of memories, fragments of sights, sounds, smells, and tastes emerge, some blurry and dream-like, others unexpectedly clear and bright. There’s my birthplace of Russia, first discoveries, the tingling mandarin and fir scent of the winter holidays, ever-present Olivier salad and my grandma’s apple pancakes. The heated air of Israel, the backdrop to the last years of my childhood, with its hamsin winds, meat grilling at the shwarma street vendors, and the best ice cream I have ever tasted. And finally, my last stop before migrating south to sunny Cali – beautiful Vancouver, Canada, where I had truly grown up and done everything that mattered: survived the painful years of adolescence, graduated university, got married, had my son. It is also the place where I learned to eat – where my palate matured from Slurpees and Happy Meals to fully immersing myself in the city’s incredible food scene. The major milestones, and many more trivial ones, are inextricable in my mind from the food that inevitably accompanies so many occasions in our lives – meals surrounded by family or friends, shared with a loved one, or savored in blissful solitude. And it is when I go back to the city that had in so many ways become my home that I get to step back into these precious tastes and memories, peeking beneath the bittersweet veil of nostalgia.

There’s Stepho’s Taverna, an institution of the colourful and wonderfully diverse downtown West End district where my husband and I spent the first years of our marriage. On its flowered vinyl tablecloths, we celebrated our first newlywed apartment over monstrous portions of tender souvlaki and pilaf glistening with olive oil, and toasted Friday evenings with carafes of house wine. Kam’s Place, an eclectic Singaporean eatery where the owner welcomed each guest with a big smile, Hello Kitty dolls peeked from bamboo buckets over the bar, and the steaming hot-and-sour soup nurtured us through colds and sniffles and rainy nights. There was the neighborhood coffee shop by English Bay beach where a lazy Sunday morning could be passed with a book and mugs of rich mocha; the miniscule Lebanese joint with rickety sidewalk tables and the best falafel in town; and the Romanian bakery, fragrant with caramelized sugar and vanilla where sweet treats waited to be picked out during an evening walk.

There is my parents’ hometown of Richmond, smells of soy sauce and fish from the local Asian market, and the quaint historic fishing village of Steveston, docked boats piled with freshly-caught seafood and stalls of piping hot, crispy fish and chips. Brioche, a homey, rustic Italian cafe with mismatched furniture where the garlicky Tuscan bread soup and slices of fresh-baked sourdough sustained me before evening classes on cold winter nights. There is La Bodega, a forty-year-old Spanish tapas spot, where our families gathered over plates of spicy patatas bravas, salty jamon, and a pitcher of sangria I couldn’t drink, everyone examining a black-and-white sonogram with the fuzzy outline of a tiny profile.

There is fantastic sushi, and the local donut shop. My dad’s barbecuing on warm summer evenings, and my mother-in-law’s elaborate and mouth-watering Christmas dinners. There are bites and scents and textures, chain cafes and fancy restaurants and home-cooked meals, each carrying with it an experience, a recollection, however special or mundane. I don’t know where else life may take me, and how many more homes I will have. But no matter where I am, these tastes and stories will line the way to my past, a permanent link to that elusive yet unfailingly comforting presence called home.

Kate Missine is a domestic diva, shopping addict, and worshiper of all things delicious. When she’s not chasing  after her toddler son, Kate can be found stirring things up in the kitchen, scouring grocery aisles for strange ingredients, or indulging in much-needed retail therapy. She holds a B.A. in Communications and Publishing and accepts pastries and shoes as currency.

Kate Missine