But between the folds of those I began to follow (on insta) for all the food and stories they shared, @a_madteaparty, as she is better known, stood out. I signed up to one of her online workshops making pizza and cookies with my little brother, and while the workshop came to an end, a friendship started. We discovered common friends, our roots in Kashmir along with a training in architecture, our wish for slow times, and the practice of little choices for a better place for all.

As with everyone I speak to for the Khhat, I asked Anita about when she started cooking and how her relationship to it has changed. Her response made me reflect deeply on the way food gets entwined in our lives, how our perception of time and the way in which we utilise it evolves. From the first time Anita found herself cooking up a storm as an 11 year old to now, curiosity has been a mainstay, however, the subject of delight and discovery is different.

She says, “As a young girl I was more interested in exotic foods but now I am excited about cooking with ordinary/everyday ingredients. Earlier, speed was an important aspect of how I cooked. Lately, I have slowed down and enjoy taking the longer (more scenic) route - enjoying the lower-heat stirring and frying - to get to a tastier end result with simple ingredients.”

Preservation has piqued her interest and demanded her time even more over the years. Anita tells me that she’s always enjoyed eating and making pickles, but now the pickles, jams, and vinegars are almost a necessity to ensure she uses her garden's bounty to its fullest. Parallels between the ways that bring abundance to her small city garden in the heart of Delhi, and the making of her home fermentary, are uncanny. To me it seems the work of the landscape architect in her, who knows how to craft life a plenty, be it in soil or in a bottle.

Photo(L): Hyacinth beans from Anita’s productive terrace garden (Photo by Anita Tikoo)

Photo(R): A tiny view of her fermentary after a workshop day (Photo by Anita Tikoo)

A Mad Tea Party workshops are an excuse for Anita to try new, untested recipes often with a crowd of unsuspecting strangers. Unusual, don’t you think? She often picks first recipe trials or what she may not know too well, for grand meals where her reputation is at stake, and sails through unscathed. This fearlessness and curiosity is what I love most about her! 

As we speak of firsts, her love for good bacteria led her to sourdough (back in 2010) much before the rest of us got on to that bandwagon. When we met, I told her about my feeble attempt and the halfway dump of sourdough starter that refused to live (oops!), which resurfaced memories of my dead Pokémon (the early versions as ‘pocket monsters’) that I forgot to feed! Nevertheless, Anita assures me that even with my low level of patience and possible forgetfulness, she’s going to get me to bake the perfect loaf. Which means I’m going to be there in her next workshop, I’d suggest you come along :) 

*If you have no idea what I'm talking about when I say 'pocket monsters'  here is a little history nugget!

Photo(L): One of those untested, unexpected show stopper dish - Slow Simmer Tomatoes. Recipe here.

Photo(R): A favourite breakfast after a late night party- Tsir Tchot (kashmiri rice flour crepe) Recipe here.

We often speak of the joys of eating, and not often enough of the ways in which food brings us together in sorrow. I think for the first time in many years, each one of us found ourselves at either the giving or receiving end of a plate that said, we care. This year to all those that I speak to for the Khhat, I’ve chosen to ask them- what does grief taste of. Not to induce a sense of gloom, but just to remind ourselves that communities (much like families) are built not just when the sails run smooth, but when the winds are tearing through them. Anita was kind enough to share -

“Strangely, it tastes of comfort food. We lost our father last year. I, my sister and her family, and some close relatives were with my mother for a couple of weeks. Everyday we cooked as if there was a celebration - we might ourselves cook just one dish and rice (always rice) but my aunt would arrive by midday loaded with large steel dabbas filled with paneer, dum aloo and such, and mujj chetin (white radish chutney) and we would, invariably, sit down together to a sumptuous lunch, remember my father, and remember to laugh. I suppose we seek the same foods we celebrate with to comfort ourselves through a loss.”

This gives me another reason to justify my obsession with making you not just eat, but cook! It’s the same reason why mom’s cooking is always the best, but Anita puts it perfectly - “I try to cook, summoning good vibes and love for the people I cook for and for myself.” You bring forth not just food when you cook, but all that you wish for, immersed within the steam of your curry. 

So as you get into full on celebration mode, remember to always spice up your dips and butter up your bread with love, and let it fill the room from your grazing platters.

Happy Diwali.

We hope this year brings you and your loved ones, abundance of joy, love, luck and good health. Remember to dine and shine, but without burning any twine that makes a smoky cloud nine :)

* The KHHAT is a medium to share our ideas, explorations and discoveries, while connecting you to mysterious experiences, obscure places, and gifted people, in the form of a letter that reaches your inbox once a month. You can simply respond back to this email telling me what you liked or not in The Khhat, ask a question you wouldn't ask google or bing, or just to say no more khhats please. 

With love and curiosity,

*Khhat or ख़त means a letter, in urdu. 

 Listen to the poem- Deewali written by Nazeer Akbarabadi

*Remember to mask up, sanitize often and celebrate, but carefully. Eat well, stay healthy.