On the Meaning of Comfort Food as an Expat
The soothing dishes we come back for and what shaped them
Nostalgic food is the one that takes you back to your childhood years, when supposedly you had a happier life with very few worries. It is the food your grandma cooked you when you had an upset stomach, the snacks you ate when you went to the park on Sundays, the dishes shared with your cousins in important family days. It’s not only tasty but also comforting, that’s why it’s also known as comfort food.
For most people comfort food just means that. But for some others, for the ones that are living abroad, far from where all these memories took place, it means something more. It’s a warm embrace, a certain feeling of safety. A sense of soothing.
Writer Ruby Saha shared a beautiful essay in
’s The Desk Dispatch on the rooting sense food can have when you are displaced.Diasporic identities are built upon remembered and re-enacted practices of food, tradition, community, and faith. […] For displaced peoples, there’s something almost otherworldly about being rooted to a place. Not just the idea of it conjured up in memories and old photos, but living roots buried in sun-warmed earth you can grasp with your fingers. When identity is defined by survival—of genocide, colonization, displacement—lineage is more than just a tree. It’s blood that still runs, in defiance of the oppressor. It’s a smuggled sapling with trace evidence of the homeland clasped within its roots.
I have not been displaced. I have chosen to leave my country. And yet, I understand this search for tradition and meaning through food. But my comfort food is not all Spanish, it has developed its shape, not yet final, through all the countries I have lived in. Each of them leaving an imprint on me.
Asking friends that live or have lived in other countries, I found similar and also unique responses about what is the meaning of comfort food for them. It seems the link is the emotion the food evoques. Always happy.
I met Kevin when I was living in Bangkok. He is an Argentinian from the region of Jujuy, bordering Chile and Bolivia. He doesn’t miss any of the mental images we have of what Argentinian food is, because it was not his food growing up. He says sometimes he longs for a Bolivian sopa de maní (peanut soup) but admits that if he had to choose between his childhood food and Thai, he would always choose Thai. He has been happy in Thailand and South East Asia in general. There’s where his joyful memories reside.
It’s also where mine do as well. I lived in Thailand for 4 years, visiting it 6 times on solo trips before finally moving there. On one of those trips I met Ross, now my husband. He is an Englishman that was also living in Bangkok at the time and that trapped me as much as the country did. Its food was like nothing I had experienced before and my curiosity took me on a decade long journey of exploring the history of ingredients and dishes from all around the world and the connections that link them all.
Kevin mentioned khaw niaw ma muang ข้าวเหนียวมะม่วง (mango and sticky rice), as one of the dishes he misses the most. Mine is pad kapraw ผัดกะเพรา (holy basil stir fry). I used to eat it all the time in Bangkok without giving it a second thought. It was nothing special, but always delicious. Perhaps it’s the carefree times what I miss the most about it. I still eat it here in Boston, almost once a week, and sometimes I think my sweaty eyes are not due to the chilies but to raw nostalgia.
In Bangkok I didn’t cook much. Our kitchen was tiny and I couldn’t find ingredients typically Mediterranean. But I didn’t mind. Food there was so delicious that I was happy to prepare easy salads at home and eat out as much as possible. My friend Mariana felt something similar when she was living in Barcelona during her university years. There’s where I met her. She is originally from Cancún, Mexico, but now lives in Mexico City with her husband and her two children. Funny enough, before moving to DF she spent a couple of years in Boston, where I live now. I missed her only for some months.
When I lived in Barcelona I never missed any of the Mexican street food, perhaps because local food was already soo good! But I did miss my mum’s signature dishes. I would dream of a bowl of carne en su jugo (a thick broth with meat and vegetables that is served with lime, cilantro and onions)!
She told me when she moved to the United States this changed. She started preparing typical Mexican food, listening to music in Spanish and trying to connect with her country in a wider sense.
It’s strange because I normally listen to songs in English and cook very simple food, but there all I wanted to eat was spicy food, specially pineapple with chile piquín.
Luz is from Cali, Colombia, and I met her in China. She is now my closest friend even if she lives in France, on an entirely different continent. She mentioned something similar to Mariana. Her comfort food is connected with the memories of her mum preparing dishes that would soothe her, specially when she was feeling unwell. She specially craves a simple caldo con papas y pollo (broth with potatoes and chicken) and changua (a soup made with milk, eggs and onion). Often, when I call her she is cooking lunch or dinner, as we are on a 6 hours time difference. Most days it’s something with rice, or rice and beans. That’s her base. And thankfully that was also the staple in China where she spent several years working as an International teacher.
For Marta, my childhood friend that now lives in Switzerland, it’s also about the ingredients and some simple preparations that remind her of home. She loves cooking and feels a deep connection with her Catalan roots when she does. “Sofregit i oli d’oliva”, she said proudly. The sofregit (Catalan) or sofrito (Spanish) is a technique to start many stews and soups in Spain. The ingredients my vary but basically it means stir-frying onion, tomato, garlic and sometimes peppers (or carrot and celery if you are in Italy). You stir-fry it with olive oil, obviously.
Not too long ago (before I became truly interested in knowing food in a deeper sense), I thought there was only one kind of oil. My mum would always say “pass me the oil” or “add a good drizzle of oil to the salad”. Which other oil could there be but olive? When I first travelled to Asia I noticed there were other kinds, and actually olive oil was not used at all!
My cousin Mar complains about the disregard of olive oil usage in England, where she now lives with her local boyfriend. “I made a tortilla de patatas the other day to a family gathering here, and they all loved it! The only problem is that now my sister in law just called me saying she tried to make it herself but substituted the olive oil for butter as she didn’t have any!”. I share the shock.
There are things that should be honoured. Because they are part of someone’s tradition, of someone’s heritage. This is why on the whole rage about Jamie Oliver’s chorizo paella I was not upset about it having chorizo (at the end of the day, chefs should experiment, and there are rice dishes in Spain that incorporate meat as well), I was annoyed that a chef with his influence wouldn’t make a paella on a paella! (He has now added an apologetic note and suggested to use a paella pan for the recipe).
I also got unsettled the other day when passing the pages of a recipe book in my local bookstore I found a recipe for tortilla de patatas. I got curious, yet cautious, and I was right to be when I read the first line: “turn the oven on”. Tortilla de patatas is always made on a pan. The oven allows you to cheat a bit because you don’t need to turn the omelette around, but even that step is not that difficult if you use a plate as an aid. By changing the technique you are disregarding its importance. I believe recipe creation should always be linked to respect for the dish’s tradition, specially if you are introducing a twist on a classic.
Tortilla de patatas is another one of my comfort dishes as it’s for most Spaniards, in and out of the country. It’s pure simplicity: eggs, potatoes, olive oil, salt and perhaps onion (if you are one of mine). I always make a full meal out of it, adding an easy salad, some fried peppers and maybe a couple of slices of cheese. Vegetarian perfection.
Kata is Hungarian and now lives in Montreal after spending some years in Boston. For her, comfort food also means memories of home.
For me, comfort food is like a warm hug from home, filled with memories, family moments, and just enjoying life. One dish that really hits home is Hungarian chicken soup. It’s a weekend favorite from my childhood, and now, I love making it for my own family. And of course, there are other classics like Hungarian stuffed peppers (töltött paprika), plum-filled dumplings (szilvásgombóc), stuffed cabbage (töltött káposzta), and fermented pickles (kovászos uborka). They’re not just dishes; they’re bursts of nostalgia and happiness, especially since they’re so seasonal with their fresh ingredients. Because of my life journey through different countries, I feel the blend of cultures has added a rich variety to my comfort food experiences. I also enjoy dishes like lobster rolls and clam chowder from Boston, and here in Montreal, poutine is a must, especially during winter sports events!
I haven’t yet incorporated New England dishes to my sense of comfort food, though a burger and a craft beer on a Friday night is always a good plan, but I did steal something from Hungary. I lived in Budapest from the 14th December 2020 to the 29th of April 2023. It was not the most perfect time to move to a new country, but that last year was actually very nice. Ross and I got to explore the region and I hold beautiful memories from our trips. I also appreciated that Hungary has a very distinct gastronomy. Dishes aren’t precisely light, but they are no doubt comforting. My favorite was marha pörkölt, a beef stew that everyone confuses with goulash outside of the country. Both are delicious, though. This stew is not what I have incorporated to my repertoire of loved food but the use of pickles.
In any Hungarian grocery market you will have at least one pickle stand. Fermented and soured vegetables are adored in the country and eaten with most dishes to break out the heartiness of the meat and starches. I love them. Ross was obsessed with the pickled apple peppers, that were both spicy and sour. I now incorporate some kind of pickled pepper to another beloved Catalan tradition.
Bikinis are supposed to be triangular, but mine are not. They are also supposed to be made with soft sandwich bread, but at home I use sourdough slices. Maybe this is what I have incorporated from the States so far, my love for sourdough. If you travel to Spain you should order a sandwich mixto, unless you are in Catalonia and you want to fit in like a local. Whichever term you use, you’ll be ordering a ham and cheese grilled sandwich. It’s so special for us it won “best sandwich” in the Gastronomic Forum of Barcelona last year. For me it also has a deeper meaning as I used to eat it with my family when we wanted a no-fuss evening. No cooking, just putting some slices together and in the sandwich maker. I even didn’t mind being in charge of making all the bikinis for the family as it meant eating the leftover melted cheese off the grill!
I still make them often for an easygoing meal. I use sourdough slices because I love the crunch and the presence. I also have incorporated different fillings. The traditional ham-cheese has become turkey-cheese-hot sauce, and I make a pickled japaleño-cheese version as well. You can actually make whichever filling you wish. A great one is roquefort (or another blue cheese) and ham. Or sobrassada (a kind of spreadable chorizo from Mallorca) with honey.
Actually my last bikini version incorporates my most special comfort food. Pà amb tomàquet (bread with tomato). It’s as simple as it sounds, but don’t confuse it with a bruschetta. The tomato is smashed onto the bread, not eaten raw. Here you can see a video I made of my typical breakfast. It’s the quintessential Catalan food. Just a good slice of bread (maybe toasted), plum tomatoes spread on top of it, a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil and a touch of salt. You don’t need much else (try it!), but for us is a base. The base for an amazing sandwich, toast, or appetiser.
My friend Delia, from Bolivia living in Valencia, Spain, gets back to her gastronomical roots when her brother comes visit. She loves sopa de maní and empanadas especially. And for Paula, a Finn living in Budapest, comfort food is also linked to certain people.
My comfort food is anything Iranian, for example lamb kebab with grilled tomatoes and raw onions, sweet and sour pomegranate walnut stew Fesenjān; and when rice is served, crispy, golden butter and saffron crust is a must! As much as I enjoy familiar childhood dishes while visiting home in Finland, if I feel down, no food is as comforting as Persian food. I think it’s also because of my ex boyfriend’s love towards Iranian food and cooking, sometimes just talking about ingredients and cooking and his food-related memories made me love and appreciate the food even more. And it made me feel loved also when he was cooking that food he loved for me, and it was always a lovely moment to share.
Even if it’s not your own traditions, comfort food can be just an appreciation for heritage, for knowing that what you are eating has a deep history behind and it has been made by loving hands. My childhood friend Mariona, now living in Dubai, told me for her it’s about menjar de tota la vida (“food that has always been there”). In a city where you can find pasta, pizza, brunch, avocado toasts and lattes everywhere, she values tradition. “It doesn’t have to be super elaborated, just be homemade, with love. Something that will fill you up and not only your stomach”.
My last comfort food I want to share today is no doubt simple, it can’t get less elaborated than this. Vermut is a drink, but in Spain is also the tradition of eating before lunch. Aperitif, or snacking, as you wish. Hacer un vermut actually doesn’t have to involve to drink vermut, though many people like to do it. For me it’s linked to Sundays’ afternoons. You want something fun, uncomplicated and tasty so you open a bunch of seafood tins and have a feast!
Whatever comfort food may mean to you, it’s obvious it evoques a strong emotion. Often linked with happy memories or with a feeling of being taken care of. Mariona’s longing for stews, even if she has never eaten them before, speaks of a yearning for tradition. Luz’s preparation of modest soups link her to her mum’s protective embrace. Kevin’s youth leads to itch for exiting flavours. While Kata takes her food memories wherever she goes to pass them to her children.
Comfort food can also mean creating new spaces of love and happiness for yourself. Mariana told me that after coming back to her country now her comfort food is pizza and sushi, fun and easy meals she enjoys with her husband Marco, after the children have gone to sleep. A moment of connection, a gastronomical intimate experience. Comfort that maybe with time, will also become nostalgia.
Coming up
I hope you liked this essay, don’t forget to comment and share it if you think other people may enjoy it!
Also, I will be posting my recipe for tortilla de patatas (no oven involved…) on May’s recipe newsletter. I will also give you ideas of side dishes to eat it with.
I created all the above photos especially for this article, I hope you liked them. They involved various days of planning, shooting in my home studio and quite some mess Ross had to deal with… So if you enjoyed them, I’ll be sharing the Behind the Scenes of the photo of the vermut spread, this way you can peek into my creative process. Stay tuned!
Finally, I want to thank all my friends from around the world that send me their insights and involved in very interesting conversations about the meaning of comfort food as an expat. I appreciate you all so much!
I enjoyed reading this! It made me think of plantain. You're right about staying true to the traditional method of cooking. When I made plantain in the air fryer it removed all the flavor and soul from it. There is nothing like pan fried plantain.
This was a fantastic read Elisabet, and your photos and food styling are incredible!!! I’m Middle Eastern/Armenian also living in Boston and I’ve noticed I never really crave Arab food unless I’m really sad or really sick -- that’s when the instinct kicks in for me to go back to what I know from my childhood. Last year while travelling in Thailand, I got sick with a stomach virus and I remember I had Thai krapow and it was the first thing I’d eaten in days. It instantly became a comfort food for me even though that was the first time I had that dish! PS, what are your favourite Thai places in Boston? Mine is Dakzen at the moment.