What Are Your Favorite Types of Foods?

If you ask me what my favorite foods are, I won’t just name dishes—I’ll tell you about the stories they carry.

Food, for me, has never been just about eating. It’s about memory, comfort, rebellion, and sometimes, survival.

Take soup, for instance. After moving back to India, I found myself in a sea of masala—everywhere I turned, there were fiery curries, rich gravies, and spice-laden thalis. Delicious, yes, but sometimes overwhelming for a new vegetarian like me. And then, one day, tucked away in a quiet corner restaurant, I discovered a simple bowl of clear soup. The steam fogged my glasses, the broth was perfectly salted, and bok choy floated lazily beside tofu cubes. It wasn’t just food—it was peace in a bowl. It reminded me that amidst chaos, you can still find simplicity if you know how to look.

Then there’s vada pav, the humble Mumbai street food that needs no introduction to anyone who’s ever been pushed out of a local train at rush hour. It’s not a delicacy—it’s breakfast, lunch, and sometimes dinner for countless people in this city. To me, the spicy chutney, the fried potato patty, the soft bun dusted with city grit—all of it tastes like resilience. It’s the flavor of middle-class Mumbai, of people who survive not by excess but by grit and humor.

And of course, weddings have their own food memories. Imagine me, saree draped crookedly, hair undone by the monsoon, clutching a karah at the gate while battling a migraine. There were monkeys gate-crashing, cousins forgetting their sherwanis, and aunties trying to marry me off to my ex (yes, really). In the middle of it all, someone handed me a hot cup of chai. Rain poured outside, guests chattered inside, and for one small moment, that chai tasted like a reminder: you’re still here, you’re still standing, you can still sip joy between catastrophes.

Food, in that way, has been the quiet thread running through my potholes—literal and figurative. Whether it was a shady Chinese takeout in New York after a missed exit that ended a relationship, or a thali in Gujarat after a long train ride by the Narmada, food has always been the grounding force. It fills more than the stomach—it fills the spaces in between life’s chaos.

So when you ask me what my favorite foods are, I’ll say this: the ones that remind me who I am and where I’ve been. The ones that smell like home, taste like resilience, and linger like love.

That’s why in my memoir, Life Decisions and Potholes, food isn’t a side note—it’s a character. Because sometimes, the perfect bowl of soup or the humblest vada pav teaches you more about life than any self-help book ever could.