Mom’s Fried Rice & a Spoonful of Bravery

Fried rice was a word I learnt way before I actually ate what the world calls fried rice. For me, fried rice meant only one thing—my mom’s version. Her version was everything. It was colourful, comforting, and cooked with a kind of love that quietly filled the whole house. I would mix it with curd and happily eat it for all three meals. Breakfast? Fried rice. Lunch? Fried rice. Dinner? Fried rice again. No complaints, ever.

This dish holds so many memories for me. It was there during school days, lazy Sundays, post-exam hunger pangs, and sometimes, just because Amma felt like making something warm and filling. But there is one memory I always come back to, one that still makes me smile without even realizing it.

It was sometime during third year of engineering. I had taken a mini break from the chaos of classes and decided to stay home (Bunk :)). My plan? Watch cartoons. No guilt, just full joy. And yes, I still watch cartoons. Oswald is my forever favorite—something about that calm blue octopus with his little doggie (weenie) just makes everything feel okay.

While I was lost in that slow, soothing world, I got a call. Phones weren’t technically allowed in college, but we all knew how that rule went. It was a close friend on the line; sounding all nervous, excited, and slightly breathless. He told me he was going to propose to his crush. Like, today. Right now. But the poor guy was so full of nerves, he hadn’t eaten anything all day. It was nearly 3 PM, and his stomach was full of butterflies, not biryani -_- (Bad joke!)

And I don’t know, something about the way he sounded made me jump up and head straight to the kitchen. I had some leftover rice from lunch, and I instantly knew what I was going to make—mom’s fried rice. I chopped up some veggies, added her special tadka, and stirred it all up the way I would seen her do multiple times before. That familiar smell filled the kitchen, and I smiled. It wasn’t just food—it was comfort in a box.

I packed it up, met him halfway, and handed it over like I was giving him a secret weapon. He laughed, thanked me, and ate it right there on the way to her place. A few hours later, I got a message—she said yes.

They were super kyutus together, and for that little window in time, it was a sweet beginning. (Small plot twist: they are both happily married now... just to different people. But hey, that moment was golden.)

And me? I will always remember that day—not just for the proposal or the cartoons, but for how a simple plate of leftover rice became something bigger. A silent cheer, a warm boost, a spoonful of strength when it mattered most.

Even now, when I make that fried rice, it takes me back. To that exact afternoon. Oswald in the background. Amma’s recipe in my hands. And a little story tucked inside every bite.

Food remembers. And I do too. 

Ingredients:

• 1 cup cooked rice (basmati or normal rice, anything works great)

• 1 small carrot – diced into tiny cubes

• A handful of green beans – chopped finely

• 1 small capsicum – diced

• 1 small potato – peeled and cubed

• 2 tsp oil (for sautéing)

• 1 tsp mustard seeds

• 1 tsp cumin seeds

• A pinch of hing (asafoetida)

• 1 tsp urad dal

• 1 tsp split Bengal gram (chana dal)

• A small handful of raw groundnuts

• A few curry leaves

• Salt to taste

• A squeeze of lemon juice (to finish)

For the masala (to roast and grind):

• 2 tsp urad dal

• 2 tsp split Bengal gram

• 1 tsp coriander seeds

• 4–5 dry red chillies (adjust to taste)

• 1 tsp mustard seeds

• A few pieces of dry coconut (optional but lovely!)

Instructions:

1. Make the magic masala – In a small pan, heat a tiny bit of oil and roast the urad dal, chana dal, coriander seeds, mustard seeds, and red chillies. If you're adding dry coconut pieces, toss them in too. Roast till fragrant and golden. Let the mixture cool down completely, then grind it to a coarse powder. Set aside.

2. The base tadka – In a large pan, heat 2 tsp oil. Add mustard seeds, cumin, hing, urad dal, chana dal, groundnuts, and curry leaves. Let everything roast gently till the dals turn golden and the groundnuts are nicely crisped up.

3. Time for veggies – Add your chopped carrots, beans, capsicum, and potato. Let them cook down until they’re soft and just starting to brown slightly at the edges.

4. Bring it all together – Add the cooked rice and gently toss so everything gets coated in all that tadka goodness. Then sprinkle the ground masala over the top and mix gently. Add salt to taste.

5. Low and slow – Let it sit on low heat for about 5 minutes to absorb all the flavors. Then turn off the heat, cover, and let it rest for another 10 minutes.

6. The final touch – Just before serving, squeeze in a bit of lemon juice for that little extra zing.

Srishti’s Secret Tip for the Perfect Rice:

The real magic is in the little details—the slow roasting of the spices, the gentle cooking of the veggies, and the patience you give the dish to come together. Take your time with the tadka and masala; let their aromas fill your kitchen before mixing. Cooking with care is what turns simple ingredients into something unforgettable.

Srishti’s Healing Tip for the Perfect Plate:

Food is more than fuel—it is a way to slow down and nourish your soul. When you make this fried rice, remember to pause and enjoy the simple moments: the aroma rising from the pan, the colors coming together, the quiet satisfaction of something homemade. Healing happens not just in what you eat, but in how you experience it.

Why You’ll Love This:

Because it’s more than fried rice.
It’s a memory. A small celebration. A quick lunch turned into a quiet kind of magic.
It doesn’t shout for attention, but it stays with you.
This is that kind of recipe—the one you make when your heart needs a little comfort, or when someone else’s does.