I knew instantly that the air would be filled with an aroma that only my mom knew exactly. After the curiosity reached its peek, whatever was in the oven or on the stove would start to take its form. No matter what was being cooked fried pork with basil leaves, chili with hot peppers, or catfish my mother would watch over the kitchen like special . Meat preparation would always seem to take a long while. I can remember sometimes the smell of chicken being fried stuck on your clothes. Or the smell green curry chicken in coconut milk down the block just to make its way up my nose.