The first time my mother taught me to make her tomato stew, she told me the recipe wrong on purpose. The second time, on a Sunday, she told me the truth.

The truth

• Two onions, never one. "One onion is for sadness."
• Garlic, smashed with the flat of a knife — never minced.
• Tomatoes blistered until the skin lifts on its own.
• A spoon of sugar. She will deny this.

A recipe is a story your grandmother told you twice. The second time was the real one.

I cook it now in a kitchen she has never seen. It still tastes like her.