Wednesday, April 3, 2024

Amma’s love language was not food but the way she fed us.

 Amma was very progressive and liberal in her own way. She cooked to feed everyone, but she didn’t love it. However, she was a diligent daughter-in-law, sister-in-law, and mother. She did everything with love and care for the people she loved.

She didn’t enjoy everyday cooking, but she was great at a few of her dishes. My childhood memories are not of fabulous meals. She cooked everyday dishes like dal (lentil soup), rice, roti, and one veggie. They were just regular dishes, not cooked with love or passion, but her pickles, anarasa, dahrories, chiwada, badi, bijories ( traditional sweets and snacks) were off the charts great. I remember all my friends going gaga over her pickles. Even Mr. Husband, a critic, loved her pickles.

I would bring her pickle masala (spices) in powder form and use it for chicken, steaks, and paneer. Last year, my sister asked her to write down all her recipes, and she did so for us. I never took it seriously, thinking she would make some for me forever. I guess it’s time to go back to those messages. Amma wasn’t the greatest cook, but she sure fed everyone with love.



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