Pizza, Tajine, and English Grammar: What They Have in Common

Discover how English grammar can be as tasty as Moroccan tajine and Italian Pizza Abdelhafid shares a humorous, creative, and emotional way to learn grammar — one that blends culture, flavor, and laughter.
I’m sitting next to our old 25-year-old round table — the same one we used to serve our food on — waiting for my mother’s tajine. I hereby confess that my mother possesses a certain power that many lack ; the power to make the most tasty, mouth- watering, and finger-licking dishes you can ever imagine.After we finished dinner, I asked my older sister,

.

 

Are not you using the same ingredients, the same kitchen, and the same equipment? So why can’t you make it taste like Mother’s?

I was wondering why that tajine and any dish my mother prepared was so unique , why every bite makes you want more, even though others use the same recipe. Certainly I was not just thinking of her ; you might have a particular person in your life who is like that : maybe your mother, father, wife, husband , sister , brother or the nearby returtant’s chef. I, myself, is a perfect cook according to my friends who cannot prepare an omlette . But the question stayed with me:
Why does my mother’s tajine taste different?
Why does a pizza from an Italian restaurant often taste better than the same pizza made anywhere else?
And then it hit me ; this is exactly what happens with English grammar.
Every dish ends, but the taste stays, and every grammar lesson ends, but the feeling stays too.You can give ten teachers the same grammar book, the same whiteboard, and the same topic — “the difference between will and going to,” for example ,
but only a few will make it taste like understanding. Some will teach the rule like a traffic sign:

“Use will for decisions. Use going to for plans.”
Simple, clear… and cold. But others — the ones who teach with the mother’s touch , turn the same rule into a story, a smile, and a memory that sticks. For example;
“I will eat pizza,” : you are planning for later.
“I’m going to eat pizza,” :it is in the oven and you are already smelling it.
“I will marry you” : sounds like a plan for the future. Still thinking,
still saving, and there is no intention.
“I’m going to marry you”: oh, that’s serious! Families know, ring is ready, and he already booked the place for your wedding .
grammar doesn’t come with fear , it comes with laughter, rhythm, and flavor that stays long after class ends. When cooked with passion, humor, and story , it
isn’t just something you learn. It’s something you remember, feel, and use.
When my students leave class, I don’t just want them to remember the definition or rule of “future tense.”

Jojo

I want them to remember how it felt when the rule finally made sense, how they laughed when they confused “bored” and “boring,”
and how their confidence grew one sentence at a time. Because that’s what real learning tastes like —not memorization, but satisfaction. That’s why I tell my students: Don’t study grammar, taste grammar.
Mistakes are like salt ; sometimes they sting, but without them, you never learn the taste of progress.Grammar is not a cage — it’s a kitchen. You cook, you taste, you burn a little, you laugh, and you try again. That’s how you learn the recipe of communication. So next time someone says grammar is boring, just smile and tell them, “You’ve never tried enfloow.com’s receipe of grammar.”
You can’t rush flavor, and you can’t rush fluency. You have to let it cook — slowly, patiently, with mistakes as your seasoning. Some days your sentences will burn; other days, they’ll taste perfect. That’s how you know you’re learning — when the kitchen smells alive.
I know that you do not have the chance to taste my mother’s tasty Tajin , but you certainly can taste my grammar.Because the best grammar isn’t taught — it’s tasted.