I like to call myself a “1.5 generation” Indian american. My dad was born in India, Punjab, and his family came to the US when he was 8 years old. My mom’s family came much earlier, in fact her mom, my Nani (maternal grandmother), came to the US from Burma (now Myanmar) when she was 19. She married my grandfather and raised my mom and 2 aunts in Southern California. I grew up around a massive extended family, over 150 local aunts, uncles and cousins. This came with the added perk of many family get-togethers with buffets full of Indian food, however I did not usually get to enjoy this food. I grew up with severe food allergies to dairy, peanuts, tree nuts, and sesame seeds. It was always too dangerous for me to risk trying the food at these events, as any accident could send me into anaphylactic shock. I always had to (and still have to) bring my own food wherever I go. This meant that I got to enjoy home cooked food from my grandmothers, who always offered to help by making food and sending it for me when we went to any family events. My Dadi, my paternal grandmother, is notorious in our family for always making delicious food and always making sure everyone is well fed. Her warm aloo parathas (potato-stuffed flatbread) wrapped first in a paper towel, then in foil to keep it warm, sustained me through many many family parties where I otherwise wouldn’t have been able to safely eat anything. My Nani, my maternal grandmother, was one of the only other people we trusted when I was a kid to keep me safe from my food allergens. She often made Atho, a Burmese noodle dish that she learned from her own mother before she came to the US to marry my grandfather. Atho uses crushed peanuts in the dish which are a no-go for me, but my Nani was creative and instead substituted with toasted besan (chickpea flour). This still provided the nutty flavor, but was safe for me. Growing up as the “food-allergy kid”, it was rare that I got safe food outside of my own home, but my grandmothers always took special effort to keep me safe and fed. Many of our leftover containers at home were labeled with Post-it notes reading “Serene-safe” or “NOT Serene-safe!!”.

Food is one of the easiest and most common ways people interface with other cultures. Even if you don’t know much of the history of countries like Japan, Mexico, or Italy, many people eat sushi, burritos, pizza, and pasta all the time. Similarly, many people are vaguely familiar with Indian food, but many people write it off as too spicy for them. I find that non-Indian people who haven’t tried Indian food are often scared to, and the people who do enjoy Indian food only really know the most basic of dishes. With my upbringing, I had a pretty narrow view about the type of food that constitutes “Indian food”. I was very familiar with the Punjabi food my Dadi would make. Pooris with aloo (fried bread and potatoes), gobi sabzi (stewed cauliflower), and chole (chickpea stew) were very common things she made for us when we came over. On occasion she would make South Indian food like dosa or uttapam, however for the most part I was mostly exposed to North Indian cooking.

When we moved to Arizona away from my grandmothers, my mom took the opportunity to learn how to cook Indian food at home. Family dinners became leftovers, which then usually got sent with me to school for lunch the next day. I can’t recall if it ever bothered me that I wasn’t eating the same food as everyone else. I think having food allergies meant I was used to not eating the same thing as everyone, but food allergies didn’t ever prepare me to answer questions from well-meaning peers curious about what I was eating. My predominantly white peers at a small high school in Scottsdale, Arizona had usually never heard of kitchdi, and I could tell they were not used to the fact that I usually ate with my hands. I remember that I always loved explaining and educating my friends about what I was eating and all the stories and associations I share with the food. How kitchdi was one of the only things that I wanted to eat when I was a baby, and how my Nana, my grandfather, taught me the right way to eat vegetable sabjis with roti with my hands when I was a baby.

When I got to ASU, I instantly gravitated towards the Indian community I met when I was on the bollywood dance team. It was exciting for the first time in my life to have people who weren’t family, but who I could still relate to about my culture. Through this community, I got to make friends with lots of Indian people, whose families were all from different parts of India. As I got to know these new friends, I started noticing what kinds of similarities and differences existed between the Punjabi family I was familiar with, and my friend’s families.

My parents immigrated from India to the US in 1996. They left India to achieve the American dream in hopes to bring a better future for their family. I grew up eating Gujarati food almost every day. I never realized that I was eating such flavorful meals at a young age. I wanted to restrain from eating Indian food because my friends around me did not eat those meals. Everyone would talk about the very American meals they had for dinner the previous night and as everyone would speak, I would be thinking about the American interpretations of what I was eating. “It’s like a tortilla” as my roti. “It’s like a vegetable medley with spices” as my sabji. I would make myself pasta, burritos, quesadillas, anything to avoid my mother’s Indian meals until I went to college so I could be like other people. My mother often told me “you will miss Indian food when you go to college” and she was right. I missed the complex flavors that intertwined so perfectly. I never realized how much I would look forward to my mother’s homemade meals until I left home for the first time. I took on cooking my second year of college when I got my first apartment and had access to a kitchen. That’s when I started making my own chai to start my mornings. I then started diving into kitchari, pani puri, pav bhaji, vada pav, and many dals. It was my first step into Indian cooking. My mother and I enjoyed this time we spent together making new recipes and having everyone around me try them. I wanted to step further outside my comfort zone with this project by researching other regional delicacies and informing myself about the cultural regions in India.

My mom and I cooked a variety of things but her vagharela bhath was my favorite. It was a very simple dish made from leftover rice, onion, spices, green chilis, and cilantro. You begin by simmering oil, mustard seeds, chilies, onions, and fennel seeds. In a separate pot, reheat the leftover rice. Once warm, pour in the oil and mix well. Add turmeric, red chili powder, garam masala, pinch of sugar, and salt to taste. Mix well and then you’re done. It is something my mom taught me so I can whip something up when I am running low on groceries. It is one of my favorites and something I make often.

Serene and I wanted to create this cookbook because we ourselves wanted to jump outside of our comfort zones with the Indian cooking we know and explore other delicious recipes in the 10 cultural regions of India. Serene and I met through the Indian community at Arizona State University. Serene is from Punjab and knows her way around a good Punjabi thali. I am from Gujarat and I also know a thing or two about dholka and khandvi. We met a lot of different people from different cultural backgrounds in India and began our interest in learning more about the rest of India.