Living in New Brunswick, it was a challenge for my mum to find all the requisite ingredients for our favourite Indian dishes. We would make an annual pilgrimage to Toronto (Kohinoor on Gerrard Street – it’s still there!) and stock up on basmati rice, vibrant orange and yellow lentils, aromatic spices, and other ingredients like besan (chick pea flour) and papadums. The other ingredients we would make at home; instead of buying ginger and garlic pastes, which I do so effortlessly now from any grocery store, I would sit for hours with my mother, peeling garlic and ginger then pureeing it our mini food processor. Mum would add lemon juice to preserve it, and we’d keep it in our fridge for a couple of weeks – using it to flavour our curries, pilaus and kebabs.
I still remember when the local grocery store across the border in Maine began carrying fresh coriander in its produce section. Mexican food went mainstream in the 80’s and coriander or cilantro as it’s known in Mexican cuisine, became readily available! What a treat for us to have fresh coriander for our cooking instead of only the powdered form.
The difficulty in attaining our ingredients had no impact on the outcome of my mum’s delicious cooking; her meals were impeccable and divine. Driving home from wherever I was and walking into the house – I was always greeted by the wafting smells of delicious, made-with-love food – curry with tender chunks of savoury beef, chicken biryani lightly scented with saffron, khadi – a fragrant sauce made from yogurt and besan, served with khichdi – a moist combination of rice and lentils cooked together…I could go on and on.
There’s nowhere in this world that serves those meals. They exist now only in my dear memories. I attempt to recreate them in my own humble way, but it’s not the same. Now, I live minutes away from a mega-Indian grocery store that has at least fifteen varieties of basmati rice, and endless aisles filled with spices. Frying onions and chopping coriander in my kitchen, I miss my mother’s voice and guidance as I throw things in the pot…
This is a spice container very much like my own:
Salt and pepper were the staples in my childhood! It was only when I ventured out on my own that I discovered all the wonderful flavours of spices. My best friend married an Indian man and at the Indian wedding reception (they had two receptions to respect two very different cultures), his parents had arranged for our little table of caucasions to have a roast beef & potatoes dinner instead of the (amazing) Indian buffet everyone else was having. I remember his father being both amazed and thrilled that we wanted to sample the buffet instead of the roast beef! Perhaps you could share some of your recipes over at the kitchen party some time?
i need to come to your house to learn how to eat indian food. my one experience with is was disastrous and i’ve been afraid of it ever since@
Amreen, I’m envious of your culinary heritage! I only discovered the amazing tapestry of Indian food about 15 years ago, and have been engaged in an on-again-off-again quest to learn more…regional variations, authentic ingredients, cooking methods…