When I got married, my culinary skills were limited to brewing tea and coffee – and not very well at that. It helped that I went into a plantation house with an army of household help or R and I would have starved for sure 🙂
My mother worried endlessly, not so much for R’s welfare as about what people would say about a girl who couldn’t cook! So every letter brought with it a treasured family recipe.
In English – except for the names of a few spices that she didn’t know the right term for – because I wasn’t comfortable with the Kannada script. And with exact quantities, although her cooking was instinctive and she had never ever measured her ingredients before.
I have come a long way since of course, and have singlehandedly catered to parties of more than a hundred people at a time (have to admit I have gotten
rather very lazy of late), but try as I might, these recipes even when followed to a T, never turn out quite like Mom’s.
Jake’s Sunday Post: Sentimental Value