Personal Journeys and Sentimental Possessions

The warmth of a beautiful home is defined by its heart – the kitchen. Across so many cultures spanning so many continents, the one thing that remains constant is the kitchen, and the various types of education occurring in that space. Be it the womenfolk of a community gathering there to cook and share tales, or a mother handing down a precious, generations-old recipe to her young daughter, the kitchen continues to remain the domain of the femme de foyer – the lady of the house. Even the most recognized chefs will readily admit that the kitchens in their homes are designed and organized according to the preference of the lady of the house – the height at which certain things must be kept, or the categorization of cooking utensils and their arrangement.

"No matter where life takes us, the kitchen is where we all come back to." ~ Unknown

This space has an ecosystem of its own, hidden from the profit-making ways of the world. Many people from labor-intensive economies will admit to seeing their mothers discreetly handing an unopened box of sweets to the hired help, or hiding some paper money in the jar of rice, to be saved for a rainy day. Big or small, the kitchen has an untold power that can be harnessed only through memories. The mere thought of kitchen evokes the smells of home, or favored places, with the senses almost practically able to feel the physicality of being there. To cite an example, the aroma of freshly-roasted besan (chickpea flour) makes us think of… besan laddus (balls of chickpea flour sweetened with sugar, bound with ghee, and made aromatic with crushed cardamom). What about the sound of plates being stacked? To those already taking a stroll along the memory lane, do you hear the distinct sound of your mother’s, aunt’s, or grandmother’s thick steel spatula banging lightly against the edge of the kadhai (Indian wok), as they try to clear that one stubborn piece of potato from it? Maybe a few paces down, you’ll even smell the aroma of freshly cooked rotis (unleavened wheat bread). There, those very memories are the most treasured, especially on momentous occasions.

Any happiness or sorrow finds its outlet in cooking. No matter the type of occasion, it always finds its solace in the kitchen. Stress-eating, welcome casseroles, birthday cakes, condolence casseroles, farewell potlucks, all find their source in the kitchen. Minimalism in the kitchen is a challenging, but interesting path to navigate, especially since most of us have fond memories associated with every single item that lives in our kitchen cabinets.

Since we are talking about personal journeys, I thought you would enjoy reading about some of my prized and sentimental possessions in the kitchen. I have an engraved spoon which once belonged to my maternal grandfather, an avid reader and traveler like myself. He told me a funny tale about how the spoon came to be in his possession. After he passed away, I felt honored to inherit that spoon along with a few of his favorite books. Likewise, my maternal grandmother owned a giant rice-serving scoop. My extended family generously allowed me to bring it to the USA with me. It is used daily, with much fondness. My paternal grandmother owned two beautiful containers of stainless, with her full name and date inscribed on them. I use one of them to store jaggery (unrefined cane sugar), and the other is a spare used to store anything that needs to be stored. Since I use jaggery in most of my Indian cooking, the container gets my admiration every day. My paternal grandfather owned a measuring glass, which, much to my surprise, comes very handy to measure rice. It was a scientific glass, but I use it in the kitchen, thinking lovingly of him each time I use it. My mother-in-law owned a beautiful serving bowl, with her name inscribed on it. I use it every day, thinking of her, thanking her for raising the wonderful gentleman I married. No matter how much I downsize, I cannot imagine parting with these items, which, to me are a part of the legacy left by my ancestors.

Speaking of ancestry and lineage, I am fascinated by vintage kitchens, and often wonder about the stories they would tell us if only they could speak. The rusty cooktop, or the dent on the refrigerator, to my mind, they don’t damage or tarnish the product, they simply add character. I do, however, also enjoy a good modern kitchen. The responsibility of maintaining and visibly displaying hygiene is magnified in modern spaces, for they tend to highlight even the slightest imperfection, a huge gaffe in today’s superhuman perfectionist world. The charm of vintage kitchens, combined with the efficiency of modern ones is the balance I strive for in my home and in each of my projects.