Absolutely love this article! Growing up born and raised in LA, but have parents from India, I can relate to my heritage primarily pretty much through food as well. Such a wonderful read, thank you for sharing.
Fascinating reading about your family and your adventures. I was quite shocked when I’d finished reading and I was actually in my sitting room in Suffolk and not somewhere brightly colourful in your past. I don’t say this enough but I adore reading whatever you write … thank you 😘xxx
Oh yes. All lovely. Belgian food is completely underrated. It’s delicious. I wonder if you’ve heard the poet Imtiaz Dharker’s Desert Island Discs. It’s magical. She is of Pakistani origin, brought up in Glasgow, and eloped to India with her university tutor. Excellent poet, too.
I just love this post so much. It’s lovely to learn a bit about you and your food memories are just so nostalgic and mouthwatering. Paratha and egg will always be my favourite breakfast/supper and I must make some shammi kebabs as it’s been a while!
India, I think Pestle might have just changed my life - thank you so much for sharing. Also, have always wanted to go to Ghent for a mooch, would pay good money to get your recommendations. Also, my mum went to Paris when she was 16 and learnt to cook there, so I was bought up on foods like baked eggs, and she was insistent that we learn how to eat asparagus properly, so although we are very British, I feel like my childhood was half French. Also loved that poem, reminded me of cooking for myself as a single, slightly lonely 20 year old living on her own in a flat and working all hours and coming home and cooking something for the soul, for my soul, because even though I was drunk most of the time I still knew that cooking means love. Thanks as ever x
What a lovely comment, thank you and I love the cooking for yourself because cooking means love. Isn't Pestle genius? I will absolutely do Ghent. Your mother sounds wonderful.
Reading (on a boat/ship) in the harbour at St Malo, pi**ed off that the weather is too horrible and the tender too scary to get off for much-desired buckwheat pancakes.
But WHAT an interesting piece, especially about interpretation of heritage and Belgian food. I much prefer it to French. Rx
I am half American and half English and spent my childhood in London, the Arizona/Mexico border, a farm in Arkansas, an orchard in Picardy, a German farm village, and a Rhineland city. By then I was eleven and the Beatles burst forth and teen age began.
Like you, India, I relish the influence of every bit of it.
I think my fascination with food may come from early exposure to and recognition of all the contrasts and differences. What was bread? Baps, Mother's Pride, Chelsea Buns, Tortillas, cornbread, Southern biscuits, baguettes, pain au chocolat, Brötchen, Bismarcks, and more.
I look forward to all of your posts, and enjoy the food, the art, the books, the thoughts, the humour, the aesthetic, the dogs, the shopping, the universal truths, and the common sense. Thank you.
Wow, what a fabulous back story and what amazing experiences to have in your life. Thank you so much for your kind words but what I'd really like is to read about YOU!
I totally get the food as heritage thing. I’m half Tamil and grew up in Malaysia and Australia. I’m on holiday in Lisbon and have found home in the form of dosa - I manage to find it most places I visit! A visceral connection to my father and grandparents. Would love more family history and recipes 🙏🏽
Brilliant post. As someone not entirely British (with a not entirely British husband) this is something very significant to me. It’s a supremely important part of one’s cultural identity.
Wonderful post and so many things that resonate with me that I could comment on but limiting to 3 food ones -
My husband had to kill the goat. I think he was around 12/13 and it was seen as a rite of passage. He spent every summer of his childhood and teens in Karachi. Coincidentally it chimes with my childhood too. Smallholder parents kept goats. Female goats kept for breeding/dairy, male kids ended up in the freezer. But taken to the local abbatoir, not killed in situ, thank goodness. But I did not love the smell of billy goats and I didn’t like goat’s milk or the yogurt my mum made with it and it took me many years before I could appreciate goat’s cheese.
Shami kebabs! So delicious and the texture is so unexpected. Taught to me by my sister-in-law’s ex mother-in-law who lived around the corner from us when my son was a toddler. She was one of the best cooks I knew, an absolute wonder with flavour, but also took a lot of pleasure from it unlike my MIL who taught me a lot but saw it as a chore. And sadly towards the end of the time I was cooking with her, her tastebuds were being affected by the early stages of dementia so I had to temper quite a lot.
Everybody Eats Well in Belgium! I had the original and the Grub Street reissue from around a decade ago and currently can’t put my hands on either. I love that book. I love all the genever/gin recipes! and I would agree with the premise. One of the best cuisines, mainly because I love endive/witloof so much.
1) Oh I'm sorry for him having to kill the goat. We have five pet goats, completely useless, castrated wethers so not even milk, but I like them so much. It's only just occurred to me that this goat fondness may come from when I was six. I can't do goat you or milk but am here for goat cheese. I ate goat curry at carnival a few times but would not deliberately seek it out now.
2) Yes exactly re the texture, and underneath that little thin crispy exterior. Shami kebabs are just sublime. The SIL's ex MIL sounds wonderful. I remember your brilliant post about your mother in law.
3) I think you may be the only other person I know (or 'know') who loves endive as much as I do.
Lovely posting to wake up to on a Sunday morning. I’m from Liverpool, where the local dish is a meaty stew - usually lamb, beef, sometimes corned beef - called Scouse. (Blind Scouse is the vegetarian version). To elevate the offering, it’s occasionally served with a side order of pickled red cabbage from a jar. It originated from Scandinavian lobscouse, eaten by sailors throughout Northern Europe. Despite its maritime history, my mother steadfastly refused to make it because she thought it was common, which still amuses me to this day. On a different note, please do write a guide to Belgium. Given it’s so close, I’ve only ever bypassed it, en route to somewhere else, but would love to unpack its obvious selling points. Thank you !
I've had Scouse, it's delicious, and am now laughing at my laptop at Blind Scouse. How funny about your mother! I love the ideas of people randomly deciding that foods are common, maybe I'll do a post on that at some point. I mean, it's a stew, how or why would it be common? I will totally do Belgium. The issue is always up to date-ness - I feel like I should go and have a recce before writing anything. I will sort a trip out asap.
I’d love to read a piece about food snobbery. I spend a lot of time in Italy, and my Italian friends think it’s funny that cucina povera has become a thing. My mother has an inherent dislike of the word Scouse, which I’m sure has prompted her hostility towards the humble stew. Call it a spin on goulash and she’d probably eat it! I was at our local restaurant in Manchester recently, and a woman on the next table found it necessary to tell the waiter she was from Wilmslow, then proceeded to discuss the merits of the hand-dived scallops on the menu, which she hoped were local. In Manchester!! I’m looking forward to the mussels in Belgium, wherever they’re from!
You’ve just taken me back in time, Paula. I had two great-aunts who lived in Birkenhead and I regularly went to stay with them. They cooked me Scouse very regularly; funny how I’d forgotten. I loved them both beyond reason, far more than my grandparents, and this demonstrates India’s point about food being about home. 🙏
How funny about the mussels. Yes, cucina povera thing is quite bizarre. There used to be a restaurant in London called Paesano which used to make me laugh for the same reason.
I need to quickly hop over to make sure my info is up to date - will do a post as soon as I have. Until then what you should do is go to Ghent (I can tell you where to stay) where there is an absolutely GIGANTIC brocante/flea every Friday, Saturday and possibly Sunday too, can't remember - but ideally Friday. There are a fair few UK dealers sniffling about but not too many and my God, it is such rich pickings. Also vvvvvv good vintage shops. I think you'd love it. Plus the dinners, obviously. Also, it's beautiful.
A wonderful narrative India and love the poem about cooking for someone you fancy. My own mother I am afraid could not cook and used food as a weapon to deprive and separate. I’m sure she could have cooked nice things had she not so resented life and us. I have taught myself and find much joy in feeding others and just making something delicious. Funny old world isn’t it? Your mother looks absolutely beautiful.
I'm so sorry to hear that - food as a weapon is a terrible thing. But how nice that you've grabbed it back. Very pleased you like the poem, and thanks re my ma!
Such an interesting perspective, India, one I’d not thought of. My mum was an excellent cook of the British variety; pies with homemade pastry, roasts, cakes and bread. I don’t see it as bland at all, I see it as comfort and from a time when life was blissfully uncomplicated, made by someone with love, and that must be because of what you discuss. We did have the odd foray into seventies packet stuff, we got so excited by those Vesta noodle things. You wouldn’t let children anywhere near a chip pan now 😱
That sounds wonderful. Your mother's cooking sounds wonderful. So much of it is to do with the associations you make - tastebuds aside, for me that a terrible version of very English food = boarding school, i.e. the opposite of comfort or family or warmth. Children and chip pans, can you imagine!
I love this post. My father was born in India -Kerala - and came back here when he was 3. I went to India many moons ago, and getting off the plane in Delhi, I had this extraordinary sense of being Home. How weird is that? It’s on my Bucket List to go and see where he lived on the Tea plantation - so you must go to Pakistan!
Absolutely love this article! Growing up born and raised in LA, but have parents from India, I can relate to my heritage primarily pretty much through food as well. Such a wonderful read, thank you for sharing.
Fascinating reading about your family and your adventures. I was quite shocked when I’d finished reading and I was actually in my sitting room in Suffolk and not somewhere brightly colourful in your past. I don’t say this enough but I adore reading whatever you write … thank you 😘xxx
Oh yes. All lovely. Belgian food is completely underrated. It’s delicious. I wonder if you’ve heard the poet Imtiaz Dharker’s Desert Island Discs. It’s magical. She is of Pakistani origin, brought up in Glasgow, and eloped to India with her university tutor. Excellent poet, too.
I just love this post so much. It’s lovely to learn a bit about you and your food memories are just so nostalgic and mouthwatering. Paratha and egg will always be my favourite breakfast/supper and I must make some shammi kebabs as it’s been a while!
India, I think Pestle might have just changed my life - thank you so much for sharing. Also, have always wanted to go to Ghent for a mooch, would pay good money to get your recommendations. Also, my mum went to Paris when she was 16 and learnt to cook there, so I was bought up on foods like baked eggs, and she was insistent that we learn how to eat asparagus properly, so although we are very British, I feel like my childhood was half French. Also loved that poem, reminded me of cooking for myself as a single, slightly lonely 20 year old living on her own in a flat and working all hours and coming home and cooking something for the soul, for my soul, because even though I was drunk most of the time I still knew that cooking means love. Thanks as ever x
What a lovely comment, thank you and I love the cooking for yourself because cooking means love. Isn't Pestle genius? I will absolutely do Ghent. Your mother sounds wonderful.
Reading (on a boat/ship) in the harbour at St Malo, pi**ed off that the weather is too horrible and the tender too scary to get off for much-desired buckwheat pancakes.
But WHAT an interesting piece, especially about interpretation of heritage and Belgian food. I much prefer it to French. Rx
Ugh, I hope it perked up and that you got your pancakes. I do too re. Belgian food. X
I am half American and half English and spent my childhood in London, the Arizona/Mexico border, a farm in Arkansas, an orchard in Picardy, a German farm village, and a Rhineland city. By then I was eleven and the Beatles burst forth and teen age began.
Like you, India, I relish the influence of every bit of it.
I think my fascination with food may come from early exposure to and recognition of all the contrasts and differences. What was bread? Baps, Mother's Pride, Chelsea Buns, Tortillas, cornbread, Southern biscuits, baguettes, pain au chocolat, Brötchen, Bismarcks, and more.
I look forward to all of your posts, and enjoy the food, the art, the books, the thoughts, the humour, the aesthetic, the dogs, the shopping, the universal truths, and the common sense. Thank you.
Wow, what a fabulous back story and what amazing experiences to have in your life. Thank you so much for your kind words but what I'd really like is to read about YOU!
I totally get the food as heritage thing. I’m half Tamil and grew up in Malaysia and Australia. I’m on holiday in Lisbon and have found home in the form of dosa - I manage to find it most places I visit! A visceral connection to my father and grandparents. Would love more family history and recipes 🙏🏽
I love that, about always finding the dosa!
Love reading about your life, India!
Ha, thank you very much!
Brilliant post. As someone not entirely British (with a not entirely British husband) this is something very significant to me. It’s a supremely important part of one’s cultural identity.
And the poem!
Thank you and isn't it the poem of bliss?
It really is.
Wonderful post and so many things that resonate with me that I could comment on but limiting to 3 food ones -
My husband had to kill the goat. I think he was around 12/13 and it was seen as a rite of passage. He spent every summer of his childhood and teens in Karachi. Coincidentally it chimes with my childhood too. Smallholder parents kept goats. Female goats kept for breeding/dairy, male kids ended up in the freezer. But taken to the local abbatoir, not killed in situ, thank goodness. But I did not love the smell of billy goats and I didn’t like goat’s milk or the yogurt my mum made with it and it took me many years before I could appreciate goat’s cheese.
Shami kebabs! So delicious and the texture is so unexpected. Taught to me by my sister-in-law’s ex mother-in-law who lived around the corner from us when my son was a toddler. She was one of the best cooks I knew, an absolute wonder with flavour, but also took a lot of pleasure from it unlike my MIL who taught me a lot but saw it as a chore. And sadly towards the end of the time I was cooking with her, her tastebuds were being affected by the early stages of dementia so I had to temper quite a lot.
Everybody Eats Well in Belgium! I had the original and the Grub Street reissue from around a decade ago and currently can’t put my hands on either. I love that book. I love all the genever/gin recipes! and I would agree with the premise. One of the best cuisines, mainly because I love endive/witloof so much.
1) Oh I'm sorry for him having to kill the goat. We have five pet goats, completely useless, castrated wethers so not even milk, but I like them so much. It's only just occurred to me that this goat fondness may come from when I was six. I can't do goat you or milk but am here for goat cheese. I ate goat curry at carnival a few times but would not deliberately seek it out now.
2) Yes exactly re the texture, and underneath that little thin crispy exterior. Shami kebabs are just sublime. The SIL's ex MIL sounds wonderful. I remember your brilliant post about your mother in law.
3) I think you may be the only other person I know (or 'know') who loves endive as much as I do.
Lovely posting to wake up to on a Sunday morning. I’m from Liverpool, where the local dish is a meaty stew - usually lamb, beef, sometimes corned beef - called Scouse. (Blind Scouse is the vegetarian version). To elevate the offering, it’s occasionally served with a side order of pickled red cabbage from a jar. It originated from Scandinavian lobscouse, eaten by sailors throughout Northern Europe. Despite its maritime history, my mother steadfastly refused to make it because she thought it was common, which still amuses me to this day. On a different note, please do write a guide to Belgium. Given it’s so close, I’ve only ever bypassed it, en route to somewhere else, but would love to unpack its obvious selling points. Thank you !
Absolutely, Moira. Food is the language of love in so many ways. You should make it again for old times sake. Nice to connect.
I've had Scouse, it's delicious, and am now laughing at my laptop at Blind Scouse. How funny about your mother! I love the ideas of people randomly deciding that foods are common, maybe I'll do a post on that at some point. I mean, it's a stew, how or why would it be common? I will totally do Belgium. The issue is always up to date-ness - I feel like I should go and have a recce before writing anything. I will sort a trip out asap.
I’d love to read a piece about food snobbery. I spend a lot of time in Italy, and my Italian friends think it’s funny that cucina povera has become a thing. My mother has an inherent dislike of the word Scouse, which I’m sure has prompted her hostility towards the humble stew. Call it a spin on goulash and she’d probably eat it! I was at our local restaurant in Manchester recently, and a woman on the next table found it necessary to tell the waiter she was from Wilmslow, then proceeded to discuss the merits of the hand-dived scallops on the menu, which she hoped were local. In Manchester!! I’m looking forward to the mussels in Belgium, wherever they’re from!
You’ve just taken me back in time, Paula. I had two great-aunts who lived in Birkenhead and I regularly went to stay with them. They cooked me Scouse very regularly; funny how I’d forgotten. I loved them both beyond reason, far more than my grandparents, and this demonstrates India’s point about food being about home. 🙏
How funny about the mussels. Yes, cucina povera thing is quite bizarre. There used to be a restaurant in London called Paesano which used to make me laugh for the same reason.
Oh yes please to the Belgium flea markets, art and sitting in cafes post! And am going to Iook for the soon to be published book right now.
I need to quickly hop over to make sure my info is up to date - will do a post as soon as I have. Until then what you should do is go to Ghent (I can tell you where to stay) where there is an absolutely GIGANTIC brocante/flea every Friday, Saturday and possibly Sunday too, can't remember - but ideally Friday. There are a fair few UK dealers sniffling about but not too many and my God, it is such rich pickings. Also vvvvvv good vintage shops. I think you'd love it. Plus the dinners, obviously. Also, it's beautiful.
Oh I am going to google right now thank you, this sounds like something I would love.
PS I would consider staying here, but there are loads of good options. https://www.theverhaegen.com/the-house/
This looks absolutely lovely! So pretty. Thanks India
👍🏼👍🏼
I really think you would.
A wonderful narrative India and love the poem about cooking for someone you fancy. My own mother I am afraid could not cook and used food as a weapon to deprive and separate. I’m sure she could have cooked nice things had she not so resented life and us. I have taught myself and find much joy in feeding others and just making something delicious. Funny old world isn’t it? Your mother looks absolutely beautiful.
I'm so sorry to hear that - food as a weapon is a terrible thing. But how nice that you've grabbed it back. Very pleased you like the poem, and thanks re my ma!
Such an interesting perspective, India, one I’d not thought of. My mum was an excellent cook of the British variety; pies with homemade pastry, roasts, cakes and bread. I don’t see it as bland at all, I see it as comfort and from a time when life was blissfully uncomplicated, made by someone with love, and that must be because of what you discuss. We did have the odd foray into seventies packet stuff, we got so excited by those Vesta noodle things. You wouldn’t let children anywhere near a chip pan now 😱
That sounds wonderful. Your mother's cooking sounds wonderful. So much of it is to do with the associations you make - tastebuds aside, for me that a terrible version of very English food = boarding school, i.e. the opposite of comfort or family or warmth. Children and chip pans, can you imagine!
I love this post. My father was born in India -Kerala - and came back here when he was 3. I went to India many moons ago, and getting off the plane in Delhi, I had this extraordinary sense of being Home. How weird is that? It’s on my Bucket List to go and see where he lived on the Tea plantation - so you must go to Pakistan!
I don't think it IS that weird, or if it is it's weirdly wonderful. I will go to Pakistan!