Habu's preserves, celebrating Independence and some feelings as a brown woman
Upcoming supperclub events and partnerships - a new menu coming up really soon too!
I started making condiments ever since I started to cook. Majority of my fridge contains condiments. In summary, I’m obsessed with condiments of all sorts, including my own. I have launched three of our family favourite versions using carefully sourced ingredients and spices and keeping everything zero waste.
chilli preserve (which is now sold out!!!)
tamarind preserve
date preserve (kul - Indian red jujube)
They are exclusively sold »
Habu was my grandfather (dadu - father’s side) and despite the norm during his generation of men, he was a creative. He was a phenomenal clay artist, painter, sketcher and creative cook. He made the aachars (preserves) in our family. The art of aachar making is a mastery in its own right. Families across India all have their own variations and there are guidelines to this art but there are no strict rules. Aachars are made to preserve seasonal ingredients in oil - as the summer heat scorches down across most regions of India, aachars adorn rooftops and balconies and the aromas fill the neighbourhoods. An art that is slightly getting lost in the fast lifestyle and blocks of flats with little space. Most Bengali home aachars are preserved in mustard oil or the combination of jaggery and salt. The reason I wanted to call my jars preserves and not ‘pickles’ is because most people, including myself, think of vinegar preservation when we think of pickles. Our home aachars don’t have any vinegar!
I have always thought these aachars I have stacks of at home - made by artisans in Kolkata, made by my grandma, some nearly 7-8 year old jars from what my habu made before he passed away are all treasures in my kitchen. I have always known their versatility and lip smacking tastiness but finally I have decided it is time to properly share these jars of joy with you all. I am not saying this because I want to show off, but I am confident eating these will change how you think of condiments. Not only can my aachars be eaten by the spoonful with rice and daal but they can be the focal point in a charcuterie board, sandwich, salad dressing but also used to spruce up a dish in the frying pan!
Kul: a Bengali speciality
VERY seasonal and has a beautiful tart taste. Kul’er aachar is super nostalgic for Bengalis as it reminds us of a season change. I cook the dehydrated dates found in certain shops in Bethnal Green in with liquid jaggery and fried spices like fennel and coriander. It has the most incredible aroma and results in a sticky (almost chutney-like) end product. Only a very limited release of this - when it’s gone, it’s gone.
Shadinota & Azaadi with Empress Market
Both of the above words mean Independence in Bengali and Urdu respectively.
Two incredible evenings celebrating a safe space, delicious foods passed down generations of people, hosting both our mothers and encouraging happy and difficult conversations about the world we live in currently.
This was the first supperclub collab between Numra and I. As she describes it, we both have a modern day romance from stalking each other on instagram to becoming almost sisters in real life. Last summer, I worked as a chef in Numra’s wedding catering team, so we already knew we worked together incredibly smoothly.
Both of our fully booked supperclubs took place in a rather difficult week. The days leading up to it saw some horrendous outward expression of racism in the UK, an absolute animalistic rape and murder case that took place in my home city, Kolkata, and the continuation of the massacre in Gaza. We both felt it was strange time to celebrate but all the more reason to bring our people together. Our supperclub community has always been an incredible source of safety and people showing up to eat on our tables is testament that food has the power to connect in despair and celebration. The events had two beautiful readings to acknowledge the horrors of partition and colonial rule and we both spoke spoke about the importance of taking actions (no matter how small) to hope for change in the world around us.
Of course there were many plates of potato, rice, our phenomenal desi cheesecake that followed. The highlight for me as I reflect on the two amazing days is how calm it felt working with Numra. There was a silent comfort as we both created our dishes in the kitchen. No raised voices, no stress and no hastiness. This supperclub collab is hopefully THE START of many celebration events that will not just bring our cuisines together but show off a friendship that is so much more than a border created by the powers beyond us.
Kolkata is somewhere I have always felt safe. London is somewhere I have always felt safe. Both of those feelings were challenged in the last few weeks. I feel overwhelmed.
The horrific rape and murder of Dr. Moumita in in RGKAR left me feeling beyond hollow inside. Not simply because of what happened was something I still cannot fathom, but because of how it was dealt with by the people who run the city. A female CM who it seems is adamant on ruining Kolkata’s spirit, history and future with NO regards to the basic safety and right to life for women. It makes me feel ashamed. It makes me immensely fearful for the future of my home city. But within that came a tiny, tiny glimmer of hope. In people coming together. Women coming out of their homes for days, to protest at all day and all night. The city’s people that the powers are trying to drown out coming together to raise their voices.
Being so far away had left me feeling extremely helpless, but as I write - this evening I will be attending a protest in Parliament Square to raise my voice too. She could have been a sister, a friend and she could have been me. A scary realisation that the entire country and a city where Maa Durga and powerful Goddesses like Kali, Lakshmi, Saraswati are worshipped and we are counting down to the festivals - the women that build that society are NOT SAFE.
What can we do? What can we change?
It overwhelms me to think this and every night my sleep has been disturbed by this.
I just hope that we all don’t just overlook and forget Moumita and the hundreds like her as we move on to the next piece of news and the upcoming festival of Durga Pujo. If anything, the festival should be more the reason to celebrate our feminine strength, power and voice our opinions more.
#MAMATAMUSTRESIGN
HOPE one day it becomes the norm that we do not get stared at regardless of what we are wearing, what time we are out, where we work, how we work, how we speak, how we think because most men think that not all men are the same.