Berkeley’s been colder recently. For some, this is just a normal change of weather, signaling the addition of another layer before stepping out. But for me, it conjured up a new feeling–I think I’m homesick.
Cold days have always been my favorite; they remind me of sleeping in and being begrudgingly woken up by my mom. She’s telling me I’m going to be late for school, and that she’d gone right ahead and made me a cup of Atole, telling me that it would wake me up. She’s right, as she always is.
Now I’m almost four hundred miles away, and I’m woken up by blaring alarms yelling at me because I’m already running ten minutes late to my lecture. It’s freezing, and I walk to class wishing I had something warm to wake me up.
I miss home.
But rather than bury myself in self-pity, why not try to bring home to Berkeley? I could at least bring the taste of it here. I decided I’d make Atole de Elote, hoping that the flavor would evoke an abstract feeling.
For the uninitiated, Atole de elote is a thick, corn-and-dairy-based drink, usually served warm.
The process itself wasn’t particularly difficult, but with a tight budget, I substituted condensed milk for simple sugar and, instead of using starch to thicken the drink, I used flour. Compared to my kitchen back home, the dorms provide a sterile and unfamiliar environment, one with an aversion to any sense of the definition of “home.”
Yet, any physical surroundings seemed not to have mattered when I began to cook; it was like muscle memory. It felt like I was back home, and as the sweet scent of cinnamon began to spread throughout the room, I began to think that maybe this place wasn’t so bad.
As I poured in the milk-corn mixture into my pot, the scent of cinnamon dissipated and was replaced by a scent of rich cream. It was like going back home for the break and the unfamiliarity of an old friend, but the utter joy of seeing them again.
After some time, I was finally done. Of course, the taste was a bit off, and the consistency was thinner than it should have been. But it made me feel better, closer to home.
I don’t miss the physical space of home. I miss the little things that make home what it is, the small habits that built up comfort. I miss the things that make home what it is, the company of family.
Being in the kitchen, with the smell of cinnamon and the taste of home, brought me back to my childhood. But as the overhead fluorescent light takes me back to reality, I’m still in my dorm kitchen, and the heaviness I once felt comes back around.
I’m still homesick
But for a moment, it brought me closer to home, and for now, that’s enough.
Recipe that inspired this essay: Atole De Elote: Quick and Easy