Kitchen scoop for the soul

A newfound enthusiasm for cooking led PRITIKA RAO to examine the relationship between her family matriarchs and their kitchens, revealing a valuable legacy of identity and self-discovery

- PRITIKA RAO

KARAN JOHAR'S ROCKY Aur Rani Kii Prem Kahani concludes with the matriarch, Dhanalakshmi, offering her granddaughter-in-law the secret recipe to her laddoos, the heart of the family business. The future of the company is of central importance to Dhanalakshmi, so passing on the recipe is an expression of her trust and acceptance. Recipes are symbolic of many things: affection, attachment, nostalgia, history, support and friendship. They're also cultural treasure chests. A sleight of hand or a twist of pepper and a dish can change entirely. If a family tree tells you who your ancestors were, their recipe book tells you what they were like.

This culinary legacy is usually bequeathed to the next generation by the matriarch. In the '90s, grandmothers around me were masters of the edible arts, relegated to the kitchen on the back of a combination of talent, necessity and cultural conditioning. Back then, it was still acceptable for prospective grooms to insist on cooking as a necessary skill on a wife's resume. My grandmother was defined by her cooking. When she first married my grandfather, she felt overshadowed in more ways than one. Ammama was short and stout with a quiet demeanour, unsure of herself and her place in the world. Thatha was a towering man with an imposing presence and an intimidating moustache. Ammama spoke fluent Tamil and struggled to match the Received Pronunciation of English that Thatha effortlessly rattled off. Thatha was also several years older than Ammama and had a job that required him to host and attend many grand parties.