With Mother’s Day just around the corner, it’s important to pause and reflect on the significance of our matriarchs who have been feeding us since the day we were born. We celebrate our mom’s role in shaping us not just through food, but through values like generosity and resilience, passed down with every meal shared.
In honoring mothers, we pay tribute to the guardians of tradition, the architects of comfort, and the unsung heroes of the kitchen. Let us raise our glasses, not just in indulgence, but in gratitude for the remarkable women who flavor our lives with boundless love and endless inspiration.
We’ve reached out to renowned chefs and celebrated food authors to uncover the dishes that hold a special place in their hearts—ones lovingly made by their mothers. These epicurean icons tell us that behind every great recipe lies a story of maternal love, tradition, and the enduring bond between parent and child.
I was raised by my maternal grandparents. My grandmother and her husband inspired us to try and cook well… or know where to order from.
Grandmother’s food was dear to me, gifting me with a litany of culinary memories.
Brigida Yulo Garcia baked bread buns, not pan de sal. Her recipe disappeared. Then one morning at breakfast before a writers’ conference in Guadalajara, Mexico, at the Holiday Inn, it was as if Lola had given me her bread again… Straight from the oven, soft, ready for pats of butter that would immediately melt and dribble down my hands and wrist. While the buns were still on the pan, I’d attempt to touch one. And then, with cautious anticipation, I’d break one open, marveling at the billowing steam as I spread the butter within. In that moment, I found childhood bliss and gratitude, knowing that someone cared for me deeply by baking me fresh bread. —Felice Prudente Sta. Maria, author, heritage advocate, and culinary historian
An unforgettable dish my mother makes would be her roast pork marinated in pineapple and served with apple chutney, garlic mashed potatoes, and gravy. Our Sunday lunches are never complete without it and without her making me taste the marinade before popping it in the oven. It is always fun watching her make it. One of the most memorable dishes that my mom has ever cooked for me is this seafood pasta composed of a lot of local seafood. It was studded with the bounty of the sea, from scallops and seared tuna to mussels and even a perfectly shucked oyster.
To me, this is truly unforgettable as it is one of the dishes that lead me to cooking. It just feels very nostalgic now, especially since we’re so focused on seafood in the restaurant. It feels like it went full circle from learning to cook this seafood to now trying to showcase the bounty of our waters here in the Philippines. —Don Baldosano, Linamnam chef
It’s a somehow gumboish-gooey (thanks to the okra) vegetable stew tinged with guinamos, usually with squash, string beans, okra, dried and fresh shrimp (optional), tomatoes, eggplant, alugbati, and amaranth leaves.
At first glance, it didn’t look appealing to me at all, just a hodgepodge of veggies in a gooey stock! But upon tasting it, I immediately fell in love with this dish so much so that I would have it as the main event, with a side of rice and usually fried or grilled fish. —Aaron Isip, Kasa Palma chef
I come from a line of family that loves to cook and get together over good food. Sunday family lunches are our thing. Back when she still could, my mom usually prepared an array of dishes, which I have included in my cookbooks to give tribute to her. But the one item she has become quite known for not just to the family but also to friends and relatives is her leche flan.
It’s something she gets asked to bring in reunions or what my brothers would ask her to do as a gift for someone they were courting. I love it because her version incorporates dayap (Philippine native lime) rind, which cuts through the richness of the dessert. —Angelo Comsti, food journalist and author of multiple cookbooks
specialty of Betina Kahn Legarda; and mommy Betina with daughter Tina (right)
I have this very vivid memory of going home devastated after losing our football semifinals. I missed a very important penalty shot. My mom gave me a long hug by the door and proceeded to serve me her cocido.
I guess it was that moment when I gradually discovered the healing power of food. I think it is the “uncomplicatedness” of the whole meal that makes me love the bowl of boiled meat, chicken, and lots of different vegetables in this piping hot broth that you get to enjoy with condiments like eggplant puree, tomato concasse, and cups of rice!
I feel like my mom and her cocido have truly seen me at my best and worst days. It’s a meal that I grew up running to for comfort all my life. And for this I am grateful. —Tina Legarda, Bamba Bistro chef
Among my most cherished memories is cooking patola ginisa with hipon and misua (sautéed silk squash with shrimp and wheat vermicelli noodles) with my mom.
As a kid, I had a small garden where I grew my favorite veggies, including ampalaya (bitter melon), patani (lima beans), kangkong (water spinach), kamatis (tomato), and patola (silk squash).
Patola was a good crop for kids. It grew fast and bore fruits ready to harvest in just a few weeks. Nanay’s patola with misua was rich with pork broth and the juices from shrimp heads and shells extracted by pounding them in a stone mortar-and-pestle.
The sliced patola and broken misua should be added last, the pot covered, and the heat turned off.
Nobody cooks patola like my Nanay did. —Sol Vanzi, Timpla’t Tikim author
To be perfectly honest, my mom was never much of a cook. When we were kids, she was very hands-on with us, always busy running businesses with my dad, so she left the daily cooking to the kusineras—back then my Lola (her mother-in-law) made sure we always had to keep her son (my dad) well-fed.
My mom did prepare two things well—sandwiches and her famous lasagna. In fact, when I was pregnant I had pretty bad nausea and certain smells made me gag. Her lasagna, though, I could more than tolerate and so I asked her to make me a tray that I can just slice up and heat. I happily ate her lasagna—nothing else—for an entire week. Now that she’s older it’s harder to convince her to cook lasagna for us, so we just try to copy her recipe which I feel she tweaked here and there because we could never get it exactly the same. But, I also kind of like that my mom’s lasagna will always be unique to her. —Jaclyn Clemente-Koppe, Tatler Dining author