'Orange juice for breakfast, five almonds, a fruit smoothie and protein. C'mon, mum - what's wrong with waffles and maple syrup?'

Oh dear, here we go again.

'Almonds are brain food.'

'Even during sleepovers?'

'I should think that sleepovers require you to have a greater presence of mind than you do on regular nights.'

'Huh?' He shrugs.

'My mother gave me five almonds each morning and then increased the number to seven when I had exams. As far as the smoothies go, well, they kick-start your digestion in the morning.'

Arya looks at me suspiciously.

'So being weird was passed down from grandma?'

I cross my arms, vexed.

'You find my nutritional choice weird, yet when your friends come for sleepovers, they devour the almonds and smoothies and ask for top-ups. How weird is that?'

Arya realises that I am not about to back down and the episode comes to an end. But only temporarily. Welcome to my world.

As an Ayurveda clinician, I have always abided by the simple notion that the health of your immune system is directly proportional to what you were fed as a child; and what you were fed as a child will become the comfort food that you turn to during your adult years. Many of my Ayurveda clients suffered childhood obesity and a slew of other illnesses in their adult years.

Is it any wonder that what I am looking at is a cross-section of a society raised on hot dogs, burgers and canned soup?

Yet the immune system of the average Asian holds up even today despite an onslaught of toxins brought on by environmental and industrial decay in cities such as Mumbai and Beijing.

True to Ayurvedic foundations, my grandmother insisted that strength could only be built by food prepared to maximise the flavour of its ingredients.

Each year, when my parents sent me to spend the winter months at my grandparents' home in New Delhi, she would painstakingly prepare for me sarson ka saag, a thick curry of bitter mustard greens slow-cooked overnight on an open fire.

Comfort food is a conditioned reflex. Much like the dinner bell that causes a dog to salivate, comfort food brings forth the rush of sensations that make us feel safe, calm and cared for.

It's a complex interplay of memory, history and brain chemistry, and while some basics apply - most of us being soothed by sweet, salty or oily - the specifics are highly personal.

Sarson ka saag accompanied by makki ki roti (corn flatbread) became my ultimate comfort food: the friend that never disappoints.

Throughout my years of parenting, I have tried in vain to explain to my children the importance of forming good comfort food habits during their childhood. In the years to come, it will soothe them in ways similar to wearing favourite clothes or watching favourite television shows.

'Well, if that's the case, then I'd like to go for a popsicle,' Arya said, suddenly beaming at the thought.

'Too much of a good thing ends up being your enemy, Arya.'

'Let's be consistent, mum. Is comfort food a friend or enemy?'

'All I am saying is that if you turn to popsicles every time you are down in the dumps, then you will definitely end up with diabetes.'

'Hmm, what about Mami instant noodles?'

I cringe at the thought of my son's favourite processed food snack from 7-Eleven, loaded with toxins and reeking of preservatives, becoming his go-to snack at the age of 40.

'When you are away from home, you will seek the foods of home. Tell me honestly, do Mami noodles remind you of those who love you?'

He looks pensive. 'Well, that counter lady loves it when I show up to spend my allowance on those noodles every Saturday.'

I rest my case. Perhaps it is better to ditch the idea of comfort food in favour of staying comfortably numb.

Reenita Malhotra Hora is the author of Ayurveda: The Ancient Medicine of India and producer/presenter of Money For Nothing, RTHK's morning business and finance show