When I spoke to my mother again, she tempted me to visit my aunt in the village for a bowl of creamy white kiri kos cooked over a woodfire and enjoyed with a plate of hot rice and lemongrass-scented freshwater fish curry. I can’t recreate my aunt’s authentic flavours in my Colombo kitchen with a gas stove, but I can visit her and then see my father for a token of love that comes with his teatime kos ata aggala.