Once, when he was a young man, it happened that Mullah Nasruddin got married, and his new wife, may she be blessed, wanted to have a harmonious home and make her husband happy. Therefore she put all her efforts into cooking food that Nasruddin would enjoy.

No matter how she tried, though, the reaction was always the same. When she asked Nasruddin how his meal was, he would say, “Yes, it is good… but not the same as my mother’s cooking.”

As Nasruddin’s mother was no more, the poor wife could not consult with her, so she tried everything she could think of – more spice, less, unusual combinations, different ingredients. It didn’t matter – always Nasruddin would say, “Good. But not the same as my mother’s cooking.”

Then one day, for some reason the wife was late, and in her hurry to put food on the table she burnt everything. All was scorched. But she had no choice, she had to serve what there was.

And when he finished his meal, Nasruddin sat back with a satisfied sigh, and said, “Now that is like my mother’s cooking.”