Blessed to have learnt her skills.

 "Her simple varan-bhaat (Plain yellow dal and rice), is tasty too", my husband said.

I was trying my Aaji's (grandmother's) recipe of making Shakkarpare for diwali, a few years ago.

And my husband was hovering over the kitchen counter, just hovering, not helping. When I told him that I'm making shakkarpare this time with my Aajis recipe he recalled my Aaji's varan-bhaat. 

And it is true, whatever she cooked used to be yummy. Now that she isn't with us anymore, we only have the reminisce of the tastes.

Whole family must eat together, sitting down on the floor, legs folded, was what she insisted on. A woman cooks food for the entire family, she takes efforts and puts in all her love and care, so the meal has to be cherished by one and all, was what she believed.

Nobody should watch TV or dilly-dally while having food, was the unsaid rule in her house.

She used to get ready early in the morning, a big dot of pinjar (pink coloured kumkum) on her forehead, her favourite aboli (Crossandra) flowers gajra around her hairbun, crisp, yet soft cotton saari was her dress code for years. Not a single day, I had seen her dull or not up-to-date, while in the kitchen. She said, "If the woman of the house is gloomy and cooks food in a bad mood, the food won't be healthy enough".

Her bright image, standing at the kitchen counter was nothing short of  a woman in a corporate meeting, giving presentations on PPT.

Her English may not be good but the food she cooked would beat any renowned chef from a prestigious hotel.

She didn't have any magical potions nor did she have special/secret recipes. Yet, her meals were wholesome and sumptuous.

The kitchen wear, containers, utensils everything had a fixed place. All the above were organised according to height, size and shape, like a display in some museum. The oldest of all the containers, would also shine as if brand new. Her kitchen wasn't a hitech though, but you would find anything easily, no treasure hunt required.

The tur dal with tadka which we call amti, that she made would leave a fragrant trail even after hours of adding tadka. "Use a lot of curry patta", she said, "It's healthy and aromatic".

Her parents were from Karnataka and she was married to my Maharashtrian Ajoba (grandfather), which gave her cooking, a mixed variety.

Chutneys, chiwda, laddoos, you name it and she had tiffins full. Any huge steel container you would open, there would be some yummy homemade snack in there.

When I used to visit her place with my kids, she used to say, "I cannot bake those colourful cakes for my grandsons, but they can certainly have laddoos or shakkarpares with evening tea".

She used to make fresh ghee and store it in a separate tiffin, only to open when we visited, as my husband especially, loved, the granular and fragrant ghee that she made. Just before he would take a bite of dal-rice, she would hurriedly open the tiffin and serve him dollops of ghee. And this grand-jamai would enjoy all the attention.

Cooking isn't rocket science they say and that's what my aaji said too. "Even if you make anything in proper measurements and putting all your concentration and dedication, the dish definitely turns out to be delicious", aaji said.

Thanks to her, this girl who was never interested in cooking, started to experiment and in the process, grew into a woman who cooks happily for her family. Whenever I'm making something that she taught me, I still recall her voice telling me to add this, then add that, step by step, and I'm confident that with this aptitude my cooking will slowly excel.

PC: Better.net

AUTHOR'S NOTE: A recipe has no soul, you, as the cook, must bring soul to the recipe ~ Thomas Keller.

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