Why Cold Days Stir Our Cravings for Comfort and a Bowl of Melkkos

Hubby and I start each morning early, just as the first light appears in the distance.

We head out for our walk no matter how winter decides to greet us. The air feels cleaner in the cold and the ground gives off that deep, earthy scent you only get after a night of drizzle. The forest becomes quieter. More intimate. We take in the stillness and let the day settle around us. By the time we reach the front door again, the comfort of a warm house feels like an extension of the walk. We pull off wet jackets and muddy shoes, light candles, make coffee, and ease into the morning. Usually hubby turns to sport while I drift toward the kitchen, already drawn to something warm and reassuring.

Moments like these always leave me craving something warm and grounding. Cold, rainy mornings activate a very old response in us, and that response explains why comfort food feels so right in winter. None of it is accidental.

Biologically, comfort food cravings make perfect sense. The body seeks warmth when temperatures drop. A hot dish raises core temperature, calms the nervous system, and steadies the heart rate. Creamy textures feel soothing because they echo early feeding experiences. Carbohydrates increase serotonin, which lifts mood and reduces tension. Rich flavours like chocolate, caramel, and brown sugar add an additional reward response. Warm food creates a state of physical ease long before you finish the bowl.

Psychologically, cold weather drives us toward structure and routine. Less daylight slows energy. Outdoor activity becomes limited. People instinctively lean into rituals that stabilise mood. Comfort dishes often carry childhood associations. The first scent of cinnamon or the warmth of a familiar pudding can pull you back into a memory you did not realise you missed. Spices like nutmeg, ginger, cardamom, and vanilla trigger powerful emotional responses because scent connects directly to memory. One scent can settle you instantly.

Culturally, winter comfort flavours form a map of belonging. Europe draws from centuries of seasonal living, trade routes, and festive traditions. Mulled wine with cloves and citrus peel. Dark chocolate drinks. Gingerbread spices. Slow-cooked apples and pears. These flavours whisper warmth because they belonged to the darkest months of the year. South Africa carries a different rhythm. Milk-based dishes. Brown sugar. Cinnamon dusted over everything from porridges to baked puddings. Citrus used with a kind of devotion. Melkkos sits inside this world of quiet, familiar comfort.

When I think about comforting flavours, I inevitably think about scent. Scent always takes me back to the simple joy of pressing a naartjie peel between my fingers as a child. The tiny mist of oils would rise up and settle on my skin with a bright, lively sharpness that lifted my mood in an instant. The moment I think of naartjies or cinnamon, my mind goes straight to Sproeireën by

D. J. Opperman. His nod to both slips so naturally into this moment that it feels right to include it here.

Sproeireën - D.J. Opperman

My nooi is in 'n nartjie,

my ouma in kaneel,

daar's iemand ... iemand in anys,

daar's 'n vrou in elke geur!

As ek 'n stukkie nartjieskil

tussen my vingers buig of knak,

breek uit die klein sproeireën

wat geurend om my hand uitsak

die boorde weer van Swartfoloos

en met die nartjies om my heen

weet ek hoe dat 'n vrou kan troos.

O my nooi is in 'n nartjie,

my ouma in kaneel,

daar's iemand ... iemand in anys,

daar's 'n vrou in elke geur!

Behaviourally, seasonal eating patterns show that cold weather shifts appetite toward warm, soft, carbohydrate-rich dishes. Rainy days reduce movement and sunlight. Mood dips slightly. The brain responds by seeking sensory comfort. Food delivers this quickly through heat, smell, texture, and nostalgia.

Comfort food also shapes the memories children carry into adulthood. Winter offers an ideal opportunity to create those anchors. A simple stew made with inexpensive cuts of meat and fresh vegetables builds more than a meal. It creates a sense of safety. A smell that becomes part of their emotional landscape. A memory strong enough to follow them for years. Home cooking in winter leaves a lasting imprint.

No matter where South Africans end up in the world, there are certain flavours that pull us home in an instant. Melkkos is one of them. It carries the scent of warm milk and cinnamon, the quiet comfort of childhood kitchens, and the feeling of belonging that sits deeper than geography. It reminds you of cold evenings, grandparents, family tables, and the kind of simplicity that holds the soul steady. Even far from home, one spoonful brings back a world you never lose.

Melkkos

Serves 2 generous portions or 4 smaller bowls

Ingredients

• 1 liter full-cream milk

• 40 g cold butter, cut into small cubes

• 130 g cake flour or plain flour

• 1 teaspoon baking powder

• ½ teaspoon salt

• 4 tablespoons sugar

• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

  
  

Method

1. Use a little of the butter to coat the inside of a medium pot. This helps keep the milk from catching as it cooks.

2. Pour in the milk and warm it slowly over medium heat until it is hot but still calm. You want it heated through, not boiling.

3. In a separate bowl, mix the flour with the remaining butter, the baking powder and the salt. Work the butter into the flour with your fingertips until the mixture feels sandy.

4. Lower the heat. Add the crumb mixture to the warm milk in small portions, stirring steadily so everything blends into a smooth base.

5. Let the melkkos cook gently for about ten minutes, stirring occasionally. Once it reaches a soft, creamy texture, remove it from the heat and let it rest for two to three minutes.

6. Stir the cinnamon and sugar together in a small bowl.

7. Spoon the warm melkkos into bowls. Add a curl of butter to each portion and watch it melt into the surface. And yes… real butter. I judge margarine users quietly but consistently.

   
   

Notes

• If the mixture becomes too thick, loosen it with a splash of milk as it warms.

• Leftovers reheat gently on the stove with a little extra milk.

• For extra winter comfort, try a few of these variations:

  
  

  • Warm persimmon (fresh slices or lightly heated until soft)

  • Stewed apple or pear

  • Brown sugar instead of white for a caramel note 

  • A pinch of nutmeg or cardamom 

  • A dusting of cocoa mixed with cinnamon sugar 

  • A drop of vanilla added during cooking

Cold Belgian days ask for warmth, steadiness, and familiar flavours. Melkkos answers with simplicity that lingers long after the bowl is empty.