Chapter 1 - You Are Where You Eat
Discover the inspiring stories of expatriates featured on @WeAreXpats through this article series, written by our dedicated PR volunteer, Aleksandra. Through these narratives, Aleksandra aims to capture the voices of those who generously shared their experiences as part of the @WeAreXpats initiative. Click here to explore the initiative further.
Living abroad, I often miss my grandmother's kitchen. Her warm, inviting apartment on the outskirts of Warsaw is always ready for unexpected guests. With the uncanny instinct of all Polish Babcias, she somehow knows when someone will drop by unannounced, especially around lunchtime. Almost always, whenever I decide to surprise her with a visit, she’s already cooking something delicious, saying she had a feeling I would show up.
While she sticks to traditional Polish dishes, I’d describe her cuisine as a fusion of regional classics and her grandchildren's innovative ideas. She also enjoys looking up new recipes and ideas online. During my recent visit, she welcomed me with her newest discovery, a coffee with cinnamon and cloves. She makes pierogi with buckwheat and mint, served with sour cream, and she always mixes some vegetables into the meat. That’s how she creates her delicious shredded courgette meatloaf. I like to think that these comforting meals are more than just food; they are a taste of home that I deeply miss and, frankly, cannot fully recreate.
Whenever I try one of her recipes in the Netherlands, it rarely turns out the same. I tell myself it’s because I lack the original ingredients, time, or cooking skills, but more often, I believe that the secret ingredient in my grandma's cuisine is love.
As I go through the posts on the @WeAreXpats account, I find food to be a theme that connects all cultures. For many expatriates, traditional dishes possess the power to transcend time and space, unravelling forgotten memories and people. For others, food is a gateway to new places.
In this chapter of the @WeAreXpats article series, rather than exploring food's effect on one's taste buds, I try to unravel what it does to people's hearts, (in a metaphorical sense!).
History of refried beans, tamales, and potatoes
As an expatriate, I see how exposure to foreign dishes forces me to open up to seemingly unusual combinations. Most often, trying new things hasn’t been scary. Living in Texas, I quickly fell in love with Mexican cuisine, which is neither popular nor even accessible in Poland, where I’m originally from. I learned how to make refried bean tacos, and thanks to my American host family, I even started liking corn. It didn’t take long for me to add some Tex-Mex dishes to my weekly dinner rotation. I would argue that getting to know other cultures through something as simple as food changes you and your way of doing things. Now I add cumin to the Polish vegetable soup my mom has been making the same way for as long as I can remember.
Planes make the distance between my hometown and Austin seem small. It takes roughly thirteen hours to find yourself across the ocean, on another continent so distinct with its history, traditions, and culture.
I like to think about how it must have been in the old times, during the colonial spice and food trade: how many popular European dishes have their roots in the colonial history of the Americas? For example, the first potatoes arrived in Europe from South America and then specifically in Poland from France as a gift for the Polish queen. Before they became accessible and cheap food for the peasants, potatoes first landed on the plates of royalty as a gift from foreign places. If not for South American potatoes, we wouldn’t have my favourite traditional Polish pierogi with farmer's cheese, onions, and potato stuffing!
Food, currency, and glue
Looking at the threads of @WeAreXpats curators, I find something fascinating about humans and the way we derive satisfaction from comparing and finding connections with each other. Going through the posts is like sorting through cookbook pages—full of recipes that rarely taste the same when you’re homesick. Food often serves as a currency, a tool to honour guests or foster appreciation for one's culture. And if it’s not quite right to view it transactionally, then perhaps I can say that food acts as a glue, helping us stick together, adapt, bond, and feel at home in foreign spaces. This is how tortellini becomes Italian gyoza and Korean pancakes turn into pizza.
Writing about such fusions, I can’t help but think about my dear half-Greek boyfriend. Born in the Netherlands, he has mastered his recipe for kapsalon with roasted pumpkin fries instead of regular fries and homemade tzatziki as the sauce. Sometimes, I do think that just as I miss my grandmother's kitchen and my time in the United States, he must miss summers in Greece—the taste of fresh vegetables from his dad's garden, and late-night dinners. It leads me to believe that traditional food holds much more than just the flavours we grow accustomed to. It becomes part of our identity, rituals, and celebrations—a part of us that, despite all differences and stubbornness, many are happily willing to share.
All images used in this article are screenshots from the @WeAreXpats account on X (former Twitter) which started as an experiment in digital archiving by the EAC.