The Day Amma Lost Me and Found Me Over Lemon Rice 💛

Lemon rice is probably my second favorite rice dish. Or maybe third. Honestly, tamarind rice comfortably sits at number one, and then lemon rice and mango rice keep fighting among themselves for the next position. Mango rice would probably win if taste alone was the deciding factor, but then mango rice comes with the responsibility of grating mangoes and doing a little more work. So on most days, lemon rice happily takes the crown.

Mango rice deserves a post of its own because that one belongs more to my mother-in-law than to my childhood. At my parents' place, it was almost always tamarind rice or lemon rice. Mango rice wasn't a regular thing. At my in-laws' place, however, my mother-in-law makes it during one of the festivals, and that memory deserves its own little corner here. But today is about lemon rice, and whenever I think about lemon rice, my mind immediately travels to Medak.

Back then, Medak was still a part of Andhra Pradesh. Telangana had not yet been formed. My father worked in a bank and, believe it or not, he used to intentionally skip promotional exams. Most people work hard to get promoted. My father worked hard to avoid being transferred too far away from us. He was already living away from the family for most of the week and only came home on weekends. Friday evening was when we got our father back, and Monday morning before sunrise he would leave again with breakfast and lunch packed by Amma.

Looking back now, I understand what a sacrifice that was. At that time, I obviously didn't. I was too busy creating trouble.

One summer vacation, Amma decided that all of us would go and spend some time with Nanna in Medak. My sister and I travelled with her and stayed in the small rented place where my father lived. My father's cousin also worked in the same bank and stayed nearby. Those summer vacations gave Amma a chance to spend some time with Nanna, although I don't think teachers ever truly get holidays. Even during vacations, there was always cooking, cleaning, planning and taking care of us.

Well, mostly taking care of me.

My sister was the kind of child who could probably sit with a book even during holidays. I was the exact opposite. If there was an opportunity to disappear somewhere, I would find it. If there was sand nearby, I would be in it. If there was a road nearby, I would somehow end up on it. I honestly don't remember most of these incidents because I was very small, but my mother has narrated them so many times over the years that I can almost see them happening in front of my eyes.

Near the place where we stayed was a lawyer's office that was always crowded. Some people came with land disputes, some with family disputes, and there was almost always a crowd around the place. My mother says that her biggest job during that trip was not cooking or managing the house. It was making sure I didn't vanish.

Apparently, I used to disappear every few hours.

She would call my name from upstairs and hear nothing. Then she would come downstairs only to discover that I was nowhere to be found. Imagine her panic. There were strangers everywhere, people constantly moving around, and her tiny daughter happily wandering wherever her curiosity took her.

One day, one of my father's colleagues brought a basket full of lemons from the tree in his backyard. For most people, that's just a basket of lemons. For my mother, that was enough reason to plan an entire meal around them. She decided to make lemon rice. Not the leftover-rice version that many people make, but freshly cooked rice.

Now let me confess something. I know people may disagree with me, but I have a weakness when it comes to rice. Curries can survive till the next day. Dal can survive till the next day. But rice? Rice has to be freshly cooked. I simply cannot enjoy reheated rice. So the fact that Amma cooked fresh rice that day somehow feels important in this memory.

The rice was ready. The lemon rice was ready. Thick homemade curd was ready.

Everything was ready.

Except me.

Somehow, while my mother was busy preparing lunch, I had disappeared again.

She called me.

Nothing.

She searched around the building.

Nothing.

She started walking around the roads looking for me.

Nothing.

At this point, she was genuinely terrified.

Thankfully, one of the assistants from the nearby lawyer's office happened to spot me. There I was, sitting happily near the road, playing in the sand as though I had absolutely no responsibilities in life and certainly no worried mother searching for me.

He brought me back home.

Now, depending on who tells the story, what happened next changes slightly. According to Amma, she thoroughly thrashed me. According to me, I have no memory of that whatsoever. Maybe that's a blessing.

What I do remember is the part that always comes next whenever she tells this story. She was scared. Really scared. She had already imagined a hundred horrible possibilities in her head. She cried. I cried. She called my father. My father rushed home. Everybody was emotional.

And then, like every mother eventually does, she shifted from being angry to being worried and from being worried to being caring.

She sat down beside me with a plate of hot lemon rice and a bowl of thick curd.

Spoon by spoon, she fed me.

The funny thing is that I don't actually remember Medak. I was too young then. Most of my memories of that place are borrowed memories—stories my parents have told me so many times over the years that they eventually became my own. I may not remember the moments themselves, but I remember the way they were narrated, the laughter that followed, and the little details that somehow stayed behind.

I can almost picture that small rented house, the bank where my father worked, the basket of lemons someone brought home, the sand that seemed far more interesting to me than staying indoors, my mother's panic when she couldn't find me, and the hot lemon rice that eventually brought the entire day to a close.

Maybe that is why lemon rice feels so comforting to me even today. It isn't just rice mixed with lemon and spices. It carries an entire story within it. A story of a father who chose being close to his family over career growth, a mother who spent half her time cooking and the other half searching for her mischievous daughter, and that daughter who somehow managed to turn every ordinary day into an adventure.

And perhaps that is what I love most about food. Long after the recipes are forgotten, the memories remain. The people remain. The emotions remain.

So whenever I take a spoonful of lemon rice mixed with thick curd, I don't just taste lemon rice.

I taste Medak.

I taste childhood.

And somewhere in between, I taste a little bit of Amma's love too. 💛

Ingredients:

• 2 cups cooked rice (preferably cooled slightly but not cold)
• Juice of 1–2 lemons (adjust to your taste)
• 1 tbsp oil
• 1 tsp mustard seeds
• 1 tsp cumin seeds
• 1–2 dried red chillies
• 2–3 green chillies, slit
• A handful of curry leaves
• 2 tbsp peanuts
• ¼ tsp turmeric powder
• Salt to taste

Instructions:

1. Cook the rice and allow it to cool slightly so that the grains remain separate.
2. Heat oil in a pan and add mustard seeds, cumin seeds, peanuts, dried red chillies, green chillies, and curry leaves.
3. Once the peanuts are lightly roasted and the tempering becomes fragrant, add turmeric powder and give it a quick stir.
4. Turn off the flame and allow the mixture to cool for a minute. This helps preserve the fresh flavour of the lemon.
5. Add lemon juice and salt to the tempering.
6. Pour the mixture over the rice and gently mix until every grain is coated.
7. Let it rest for 5 minutes before serving.
8. Serve with thick curd, papad, pickle, or simply enjoy it as it is.

Srishti's Secret Tip for the Perfect Plate:

I know many people make lemon rice using leftover rice, and that's perfectly fine. But if you ask me, lemon rice tastes best when made with freshly cooked rice that has cooled just enough to handle. The grains stay soft, fluffy, and absorb the lemon flavour beautifully.

And if you really want to eat it my way, serve it with thick homemade curd. That's non-negotiable. 😄

Srishti's Healing Tip for the Perfect Plate:

Some foods are comfort foods because of their ingredients.

Some foods are comfort foods because of their memories.

Lemon rice belongs to the second category for me.

Whenever life feels rushed, make a simple meal, sit down without distractions, and eat slowly. Sometimes healing isn't in adding more to your plate. It's in remembering the people who once fed you from theirs.

Why You'll Love This:

• Ready in under 20 minutes.
• Uses simple pantry ingredients.
• Light, tangy, and incredibly comforting.
• Perfect for lunch boxes, travel, or lazy afternoons.
• Pairs beautifully with curd, pickle, or papad.
• One of those dishes that tastes like home, no matter where you are.