To some, food is fuel. To others, it’s art. But to everyone, it’s a story.

At first glance, it may sound bizarre to think of food as anything more than the thing that keeps us alive. Isn’t food just food? Isn’t it just calories in, energy out? And technically, you would be right. Food is a collection of molecules we consume to survive. Carbohydrates give us energy, proteins build our muscles, fats keep us insulated, and vitamins and minerals keep our systems running. But the very fact that chemistry can be transformed into taste is in of itself so interesting. Our bodies convert molecules into meaning, and our tongues can read chemistry as flavor. Sweet, salty, sour, bitter, umami. Every taste lights up our brains in a different way.

What makes food even more special, though, is how those same building blocks are combined into entirely different expressions of culture. One ingredient, one grain, one spice can take on dozens of identities depending on where you are in the world. Take rice, for example. In Japan, it becomes sticky rice which can be tucked neatly and made into sushi rolls. In China, it’s fried in a hot wok with vegetables and soy sauce. Travel further south, and you’ll find chicken and vegetable biryani or pulao layered with spices. In West Africa, rice simmers with tomatoes, peppers, and onions to become the flavorful and beloved jollof. In Spain, saffron transforms it into paella. Each dish tells a different story. A different story of geography, of history, of migration, of creativity. And even within each dish, no two plates are exactly alike. Every cook, household, and region leaves its own mark.

That’s why, when someone asks me, “What’s your favorite food?” I never think only about taste. My favorite foods come from the memories and people they are connected to. Mango habanero chicken wings, for example, will always be at the top my list. On the surface, it’s because I love the balance of sweet, spicy, and crispy. But the real reason is the Friday nights in high school when my friends and I would order a massive platter of them and watch horror movies until 4 in the morning. The wings weren’t just food. They were friendship, painful laughter, and a ritual that made those nights unforgettable.

Barbecue holds a similar place in my heart. I’m a barbecue lover because my family became closer during Covid through family barbecues. Some of my happiest memories are summer evenings when my dad would fire up the grill, my mom would bring out homemade potato salad, and my siblings and I would set the picnic table in the backyard. The smell of those scrumptious burgers and juicy chicken permeated the air as stories and jokes flew around the table. Food wasn’t the main event. The flavor of barbecue is delicious, but what I taste most vividly is family.

Because of experiences like these, I’ve come to believe that food is one of the most personal ways people tell their stories. When someone shares their favorite dish with me, I don’t just hear the name of the dish. I get transported into their world. Maybe their answer takes me into their grandmother’s kitchen, where the smell of freshly baked bread fills the air every Sunday. Maybe it takes me to the first dish they ever cooked on their own. Maybe it’s tied to a country they miss, a childhood they cherish, or a person they love.

This is why I believe the question “What’s your favorite food?” is one of the most meaningful questions we can ask someone. On the surface, it seems like a very simple and quite basic question. But in reality, it opens a window into memory, culture, and identity. It’s rarely just about the food. It’s about the emotions wrapped in each dish, the places that shaped us, and the people we’ve shared meals with. To me, that’s what makes food extraordinary, its ability to carry stories across time and place.

So yes, food is fuel. Yes, food is art. But food is also a memory you can taste, a story you can smell, and a culture you can bite into. The next time someone asks me about my favorite food, I won’t just be telling them about chicken wings or barbecue. I’ll be telling them about who I am, where I’ve been, and the people who matter most. And if I’m lucky, maybe they’ll share their story back. After all, food is best enjoyed when it’s shared.