From Mumbai to Maple Leafs: Finding Home Through Food

My First Taste of Home in Canada

My First Canadian Winter:

From Tea in Mumbai to Snow in Toronto. When I arrived for the first time, Toronto greeted me with a cool gale wind and subzero air. Winter back in India had been a soft sweater and a respite from Mumbai’s brutal heat, but here in Toronto, the world has turned white. As the founder of Big Burp — a food brand built around warmth and comfort — I can still remember jumping off the plane with excitement mixed with a touch of trepidation. Would a boy from the tropics even get used to -20°C? So, as a writer and foodie, I began documenting everything: from the bite of the cold wind to the warmth of my first Tim Hortons chai latte in my hand. Even so, I view my mission in Big Burp more completely — preparing meals that can get rid of the chill.

Mumbai Mornings:

Tea, Vada Pav, & Forever Memories. Growing up in crowded Mumbai, my mornings started with cutting chai from a street stall — that spicy, half-pint of milk tea called Mumbaikar. There I’d sip it on bustling footpaths as the local dabbawallas raced past, and it’s definitely no way to start the day without the warmth. With chai, I’d grab a vada pav (pronounced vada pao), a potato fritter hugging a soft bun and layered with garlicky chutney, by the road. In fact, the vada pav is Mumbai’s signature vegetarian street food: a “spicy potato filling… sandwich” that came onto the scene as economical quick food in the city.

I miss that tangy punch and the ability to pop into a stall between classes. I do this at Big Burp and daydream of me taking those flavors to the north – a hot masala chai and a vada pav sandwich in battle against the winter morning blues! For this moment, though, they linger in my memories: the hiss of frying oil on a Mumbai street, the clinking glass of steel, the shared smiles when we were all fed something satisfying “burp” or joyous moment after moment.

Home in the Pink City:

Jaipur’s Warm Flavors Located in India’s northwest in the desert, Jaipur — the “Pink City” — was my childhood home. Its rose-colored palaces and winding bazaars were sensory treats. Courtyard temples, rangoli-patterned windows, and stalls swarmed with fragrant spices. Winters in Jaipur were cool though not harsh, and home cooks handed out platters of warming Rajasthani food every day. I still recall sitting cross-legged with my family on the floor, eating dal baati churma — a comforting blend of spiced lentil curry and baked wheat balls — that “carb fix” for the cold evenings.

Street vendors sold fiery chaat and creamy masala lassi in juxtaposition to towers of sugary mithai (Indian sweets), each a reflection of Jaipur’s kaleidoscope of flavours. There was always a festival vibe: the smell of cinnamon in the air, the clang of temple bells, friends greeting “Ram Ram” in the golden sunset. But even now, shutting my eyes brings to mind the smell of ginger in my morning tea and the kaleidoscopic carpets of Gypsy Bazaar. Those warm Rajasthani memories help pull me through these freezing Canadian mornings.

The new home Canada:

Through (and Ingraining) the Winter. Breaking into my first Toronto winter was a jolt to the system. Monsoon rains and sun-baked pavements were gone; I was met with dark days by 5pm and surprise flurries in early December. I’ve learned quickly — every New Canadian tells you: buy thermal underwear, buy a down jacket and hold snow brushes at the ready for your windshield. It can be tough, but I look for beauty wherever I go. Others say to fellow immigrants, “the world all around us is turning white, but we’re ready for it” That line — with words from a fellow Indian-Canadian blogger — haunted me.

Today I shovel my driveway with purpose, grateful for the workout and for the neighbours who smile and say “Have a nice day” in the frosty air. I even find joy in the small things: the quiet streets after a snowfall, the joy of building a snowman with new friends, the steam in my hands for a mug of ginger tea. As writer Piyushi Dhir puts it, there are millions of Canadians living this life, and we too “will learn and adapt” if we embrace it with open arms.

This winter, my survival kit has turned into:

Wet coats and jackets — wool sweaters and mittens and a heavy goose-down parka. Hot beverages — large glasses of spice-laced chai and cocoa to chase the chill. Community: friendly neighbors, Canadian hospitality and Indian friends for potlucks. Some Big Burp — that even at -15°C, a lovely meal is going to make you beaming as you roll right out (and maybe belching a happy burp over a buttery naan). Every little victory — shifting to a winter coat, learning how to sip tea without freezing my fingers — brings a piece of pride. Actually, watching the city hang twinkling Christmas lights and listening to carolers makes my heart warm again. As it happens the holiday vibes here can melt the cold, just like at winter festivals back home.

Getting Lush and Inspiring. I have come to understand that this the winter is not just about bearing cold; it’s an opportunity to integrate my old life into my new one. Every flavor I miss and every experience I accrue is one part of my Big Burp story. Whenever I take a hot scoop of masala chai here or prepare to accompany a snowy walk, I’m dragging a piece of Mumbai and Jaipur along with me. For anyone bifurcating between two worlds, keep in mind: Home is home — it is the people and the traditions in your heart. Even under swaths of sweaters, a little nostalgia warms the soul.

At the fireplaces, at the dinner table: The things I’ve left — from chai cut on a street corner to dal baati dinners shared with family — remain, I tell myself. They live on in the food I feed at Big Burp and the legends I tell our community. As tough as this winter has been, it’s also been inspiring. And as Big Burp developed out of a simple taste for food, I know welcoming these Canadian winters will make us all stronger and richer.

It’s hopeful for me looking out at the city skyline. I’m hoping to see Mumbai again — and, when I’m there, I’ll have Toronto’s winter memories in my pocket. Until that time comes, I will be stirring my chai, keeping my spirits burning with pride, and burping with pride after every Big Burp meal. After all, each crisp morning here is another reason to take that thankful moment: for adventures in the snow, for every heartwarming cup of tea, and for the journey an Indian boy made from chai-stained streets to a snowy Canadian winter.