It was my first job offer. It was a glossy new city. It was all a bit of a muddle–pride vying with humility, happiness mitigated by nervousness, the sense of adventure deflated a bit by the inability to share the enormity of it all with one’s near and dear. The unfamiliarity of it all was a bit unsettling.

So I walked, then hopped onto the subway, then pondered some more. Now introspection can be a healthy, well meaning exercise that tingles your spine and lights up your brain cells or it could get you a bit lost. You might have intended to go home to the East Village and instead, end up on a bummel in Brooklyn.

That afternoon, in an unfamiliar part of Brooklyn, in a cozy Jamaican restaurant, I had my first Rasta Pasta–a dish where the hearty tomato stew stole the show. Full of okra and beans and carrots, the broth was light yet filling, spicy yet mellow.

The restaurant and its people were likewise, different yet somehow familiar. It felt like I had stumbled into someone’s warm kitchen. Well worn copper pots and pans adorned the walls, rustic wooden furniture gleamed, tall tropical looking plants invited me in.

That afternoon, in that warm oasis, I put down my jagged thoughts for a moment. Instead, I scarfed down my Rasta Pasta and learnt about Jamaican All Spice, Callaloo greens, and the Ackee fruit. I laughed and shared a beer with the restaurant’s staff, I swapped “away from my homeland” stories. That afternoon, I learnt to find familiarity and comfort in the unfamiliar.