Before I moved to Cyprus in 2006, the kitchen was foreign territory to me.The first time I tried my hand at cooking there, the rice turned out mushy, and the eggs were a disaster. I remember calling my Ammu in tears, frustrated that I couldn’t even manage the simplest of Bangla dishes.

Those first few months were a series of culinary misadventures—cut fingers, burnt dinners, and countless do-overs. But with time, I began to get the hang of it.

Cyprus became my classroom, teaching me the art of slicing, dicing, and simmering. Christos, my teacher in that small kitchen, became my culinary hero.

Now, cooking has become second nature. I often prepare healthy meals for myself or whip up something special when friends come over for a weekend lunch or dinner. I get it right 97% of the time. But on those rare occasions when I cook without heart, the results remind me that passion is the most important ingredient of all.