My love affair with food started with a small hole-in-the-wall momo joint in Pokhara. It has been years since I have eaten there and the place has long since closed but whenever I think of Pokhara, my mind automatically skips past Machapuchre or the Phewa Lake and goes towards the delicious momo and the blisteringly hot soup from that place. It is just one of the many examples, along with the saccharine sweet tea from my village, chola samosa from Nepalganj, machha fry from Malekhu, of the way I remember and understand places through their food.