Valentine’s Day 2023: Food Memories, Inspirations & More

I’ve always been surrounded by food or conversations about food. When we got days off in the summer, from school, I remember running from the kitchen to the balcony with steaming plates of rice papads, fresh out of the steamer, that my grandmother would hand me, to dry out on soft cloth in the harsh sun. We would then proceed to dry round, red chillies steeped in buttermilk to make piquant moru milagai, that was often relished with a plate of curd-rice, at dinner. Ever since my family deemed it safe for me to hold a knife, I was often handed over the responsibility of chopping vegetables for upma at breakfast or beans, to make poriyal for lunch.

The aromas of fresh curry leaf-mustard tadka on sambar, and poppadums lazily frying in oil were aromas my brother and I were often greeted with, when we returned from school. Over the years, as I got into the satisfying process of building my own kitchen bit by bit, I realised that my relationship with food ran deeper than I cared to give credit for. As Valentine’s Day crept around the corner, it made sense to speak to people who worked actively in the food space, as chefs, who cooked meals for people every single day and derived joy from their work, to understand what it was like growing up with food, their evolving tastes and their familiar comforts. After all, food was central to most happy or sad moments in our lives; an honour, only our closest ones might have had the chance to be privy to.

Anjali Ganapathy

Chef, Pig Out: A Coorgi Kitchen Story

Chef Anjali, who curates food experiences surrounding Kodava cuisine, through her cooking, fondly remembers travelling all over the country in her childhood, courtesy of her father being in the defence forces. She recalls being exposed to a wide variety of cultures, cuisines and indigenous ingredients and visiting Coorg during her vacations, where, depending on the time of year, menus changed on the basis of what was in season. “The meats would be similar but certain types of fish, spices, wild fruits and vegetables would change through the year. Everyone would come together and someone would bring a sack of rice, someone would bring pickles or preserves and everything was homegrown, which was exciting at that time for me as a kid,” she adds. On being quizzed about what shaped her approach towards food, she mentions that when she started off, her idea was to cultivate an awareness about Kodava food because unless you were born into the community or had family and friends living in the region, it was difficult to understand the intricacies of Kodava cuisine. She says, “I started off with just one dish – the pandi curry and it is a good conversation starter because although people may have heard of it, not many had a chance to taste it. It was interesting to see the response because I’ve spent years chipping away at the misconceptions surrounding the food.” She hoped to shed light on the food from her native land and create an education about why community consumed pork – thanks to their legacy as a hunting community, that would often source wild boars from the forest, for food. “One of the hooks that keeps me connected to my work is that I’m still learning about my culture, through food. What I ate as a child, wasn’t really documented as they were essentially recipes that got passed down or you saw someone making it in kitchens and picked it up. What’s exciting to me is to make a dish and make tweaks until it gets to a point where it tastes exactly like I remember it.” Choosing a line of work that allowed Anjali to further explore ingredients from Coorg went on to be a revelation as she discovered and grew to love kachampulli, or Coorg black vinegar – an ingredient used in marinades, fermentation and for preserving. Interestingly enough, she divulges that this black vinegar is the only homegrown vinegar without any external influences from the West. Another ingredient that she also writes home about is the maddu thoppu, an indigenous medicinal leaf that grows once a year, just before the monsoons. She describes that the extract from the leaf was often added to payasam, but hating it as a child because of its cough syrup-y flavour. For someone who was encouraged to spend her time outside the kitchen as a child, Anjali went on to follow recipes blindly with the intent of arriving at a place where she was satisfied with a dish and how it tasted. “The more familiar you get with ingredients, the more you get to play within the boundaries without taking away from the integrity of a dish,” she signs off.

Avinash Martins

Chef, Cavatina Goa 

For chef Avinash, food has always been deeply connected to story-telling. As a youngster, he was woken up with the sounds of the poder (local bakers in Goa) honking and bringing a batch of fresh poee bread for sale. Avinash would make a dash for the door, with a pat of butter in his pocket, so that he could enjoy the feeling of biting into warm bread, before anyone else could get their hands on it. One of his biggest culinary influences came from his grandmother, who was at the time, the key decision-maker about what meals were cooked for the family. “If we had any requests about what we wanted to eat, it would to granny first and then it would trickle down to the mothers, aunts and caretakers at home,” he adds. Avinash firmly believes that cooking and eating is a multi-sensory experience and that one of the things that keeps him connected to his roots is having a keen appreciation of this nostalgia. “My neighbour, who was Hindu, would make a lovely fish curry called humman, whenever there was an occasion like weddings or birthdays, food was never catered from outside. In fact, huge amounts of food were cooked in the backyards of homes.” Despite travelling all over the world, Avinash confesses to missing the food in Goa and having the desire to come back to it as soon as he could. That said, developing a love for avocados was something that happened during the course of his travels to the USA and Mexico. Like any other curious mind, Avinash mentions that he’s still in the process of researching hyperlocal ingredients and developing recipes that feature these roots, tubers, flowers and herbs on a fine-dining plane. Also, supporting local producers and artisans is a principle he has made an effort to follow through his work at Cavatina, his flagship restaurant in Benaulim. “When I decided to come back home and start my own restaurant, I started off with world cuisine. Over the years as I came into my own, I realised that there is only a certain fraction of the community that is represented through the vindaloos and cafreals. I celebrate people of the land, I celebrate the culture and heritage by buying produce and materials from local toddy tappers, farmers, fishermen, basket weavers and potters. I’m just bridging the gap between our lovely food traditions and the world,” he concludes.

Marina Balakrishnan

Chef, Oottupura

Chef Marina, the one-woman wizard behind Oottupura, a delivery and pop up service dishing quintessential Keralite meals, has the likes of Anushka Sharma as part of her regular clientele. Although she says that it is difficult to put a finger on one particular fond food memory, she tells us that she grew up in her grandmother’s home where food and cooking was an integral part of their everyday lives. Cooking 4-5 meals for 35 people in the house meant that the kitchen was always buzzing with activity and filling the air with aromas of cardamom and melting jaggery. For Marina, one of the most important characteristics that keeps her connected to cooking comes from the trust her clients place in her and wish for her food to be part of some of their life’s most special moments. “Important landmarks for the person who appointed me to cook for them and for me to be a part in some way in their journey gives me the biggest high. I am completely engaged in the process because I get very involved with the people who give me the opportunity to nourish them,” she says. For her, food memories are associated with the aroma of warm kanji being brewed on a rainy day, banana fritters (pazahmpori) being deep fried or the smell of ginger and curry leaves being tempered to be added to buttermilk in the summers, back home. “Until recently, I couldn’t point out that I associate my comfort and growth with the food I grew up eating. A plate of red rice topped off with sambar or moru curry, yoghurt, vegetables and some chamanthi (chutney-like condiment) on the side is all it takes to give me ultimate joy. Food has gotten deep into my skin and bones to make me understand that this is what gives me my identity,” Marina quips. She also raves about Andhra cuisine, with its robust flavours and spices, tamarind and jaggery, that she was exposed to during her travels. What fascinated her the most is the way the cuisine used spices, how different the flavours were and how the food was eaten with plenty of ghee, in order to diffuse heat levels. For Marina, food is a reflection of the self. She says that, “You have to completely believe and immerse yourself in the process; walk the talk. You have to be extremely careful of your energy because you are cooking and nourishing people. It’s such a beautiful space to be and that’s why curating this experience is something I take very personally. People don’t trust me for the work my assistants do, they trust what I bring to the table.”