How cooking has helped my wellbeing during the war

The weekend after the September 11 attacks in 2001, my mother retreated to her kitchen and cooked. It was her way of gaining some semblance of stability in a world gone mad. Mum made soup and baked biscuits, seeking comfort in the familiar, meditative action of stirring onions with garlic and ginger; rolling balls of cookie dough and flattening them into circles. Since the horrific events of October 7, I have similarly been finding sanctuary in my kitchen.

In the days after Hamas terrorists massacred and kidnapped Israeli civilians, I was constantly on my phone – watching news updates, messaging Israeli family and friends, scrolling through social media. I saw images I wish I’d never seen, that I cannot now unsee. Photos and videos that made me sob and rage, that appalled and frightened and completely overwhelmed me.

By the end of the first week, I was exhausted. I knew I had to consume less news – which meant replacing my screen addiction with a different activity. Something I could focus on that would help me feel calmer.

Usually, I turn to writing to focus my attention and to make sense of the world. But I couldn’t concentrate on writing. And how could I possibly make sense of this catastrophe? The hatred and cruelty and suffering left me mute. I needed an activity which didn’t require too much thinking, which would engage my senses, and allow me to move my body. I switched my phone to silent, called my Bombay-born mother for some comfort-food recipes, and headed to Coles.

In between reading Noa Tishby and keeping up with the onslaught of WhatsApp messages and Zoom info sessions, I’ve been cooking marag (Indian-Jewish chicken soup), khichri (lentils and rice) and chai (Indian spiced tea); I’ve roasted potatoes and baked chocolate cake and made pizza from scratch.

These small acts of preparing and sharing food with my loved ones – mostly my husband and two children, plus occasional leftovers for my ageing parents – have lifted my spirits.