It is a late January afternoon, breezy and comfortable. Karachi is passing through its transient phase of pleasant weather before summer heat barges in unannounced any week. It is a good day to attempt impossible things. Mama and I are sitting together, slightly out of sync. I have just begun lunch while she is ahead of me, her plate licked clean and pushed aside to make room for a notebook and pen. She adjusts the reading glasses perched at the tip of her nose and scrolls through the contact list on her phone.
Beautiful Saniya! The intersection of food, history and identity holds a soft spot in my heart, to say the least. When people ask me why I am so curious about my family’s history, its often hard to explain that it’s not an expectation of drawing a status/station/pride from the past, but just curiosity about how those before us, sharing the same genes, lived in different times. What did they eat? How did they talk? What did they read?
My friend sent me this article a year ago and I read it to my family over dinner. We laughed and found much to relate to. Our attempts to reconstruct family recipes is very similar and your writing is zesty and nostalgic. That's a hard combination to master but you do it so well. I have scoured the internet for more stuff from you but haven't found anything. But this article was bookmarked and I returned to it many times over the last year. I fell down various rabbit holes, each time I returned. Once into Zaib-un-Nissa's history and then into lives of women in colonial Hyderabad. I always find some new line in the article to fixate on and marvel at. I suppose as a woman with family on both sides of the border, I am also intrigued by the shared cultural history of our two countries and how odd the constant fighting can sometimes feel. The point of my long soliloquy is to ask - Have you written anything else?
Almost brought tears to my eyes. So beautifully narrated. The biryani is another story. Will have one of my chef daughters give it a shot. We’re Lahoris, so biryani is, I’m sure too fusioned to be the real thing.
Hi, this is the one the most beautiful essays I have read in a while. I consume always thought that there was something missing in the way Desis wrote about food and culture. Turned out it was you! I am in tears, I miss my dados and my nanos. Thank you for capturing everything sweet and painful about their lives. I cannot wait to read more of your writing.
Also khubani ka meetha is one of my favorite meethas. I hope you guys made it eventually.
Lovely writing. I could see myself in your mamma and see my mother in your nano. Yes, even though khatti daal is a near daily staple in my household, other recipes are either forgotten or being cooked only on special occasions. Here I would like to mention tomatar ka cut. It was a staple in every wedding in the 60s and 70s. But has disappeared now simply because the Hyderabadi chefs have died.
This bought such a huge smile on my face. I love my Nano so much but growing in a brown household, it’s v hard to express so I make do by just holding her hand. This was an adorable, intricate and detailed piece of writing and I loved it. ❤️
This was a joy to read. Thank you ♥️🌸
Beautiful Saniya! The intersection of food, history and identity holds a soft spot in my heart, to say the least. When people ask me why I am so curious about my family’s history, its often hard to explain that it’s not an expectation of drawing a status/station/pride from the past, but just curiosity about how those before us, sharing the same genes, lived in different times. What did they eat? How did they talk? What did they read?
Thank you for an amazing piece!
My friend sent me this article a year ago and I read it to my family over dinner. We laughed and found much to relate to. Our attempts to reconstruct family recipes is very similar and your writing is zesty and nostalgic. That's a hard combination to master but you do it so well. I have scoured the internet for more stuff from you but haven't found anything. But this article was bookmarked and I returned to it many times over the last year. I fell down various rabbit holes, each time I returned. Once into Zaib-un-Nissa's history and then into lives of women in colonial Hyderabad. I always find some new line in the article to fixate on and marvel at. I suppose as a woman with family on both sides of the border, I am also intrigued by the shared cultural history of our two countries and how odd the constant fighting can sometimes feel. The point of my long soliloquy is to ask - Have you written anything else?
This is so profoundly beautiful, I am still basking in the afterglow of your writing. Looking forward to reading more!
Yes,beautifully written, thank you 🙏🌹
Beyond beautiful how you mingled food with family history.
Almost brought tears to my eyes. So beautifully narrated. The biryani is another story. Will have one of my chef daughters give it a shot. We’re Lahoris, so biryani is, I’m sure too fusioned to be the real thing.
The essence seeped through and led me to weave in my own culinary history. A lovely story,like the biryani layered.
Thank you so much for this. I am left longing for my mother and her pulao. You've captured something elusive and essential. Thank you.
Such a delightful read, bringing back memories of food which was more of a celebration that a routine..
my mouth started watering...tenacious memories..enjoyed reading this
Loved reading this! What a joy. I teared up at the end. Thank you
Hi, this is the one the most beautiful essays I have read in a while. I consume always thought that there was something missing in the way Desis wrote about food and culture. Turned out it was you! I am in tears, I miss my dados and my nanos. Thank you for capturing everything sweet and painful about their lives. I cannot wait to read more of your writing.
Also khubani ka meetha is one of my favorite meethas. I hope you guys made it eventually.
This is incredible! I am crying..
Lovely writing. I could see myself in your mamma and see my mother in your nano. Yes, even though khatti daal is a near daily staple in my household, other recipes are either forgotten or being cooked only on special occasions. Here I would like to mention tomatar ka cut. It was a staple in every wedding in the 60s and 70s. But has disappeared now simply because the Hyderabadi chefs have died.
This bought such a huge smile on my face. I love my Nano so much but growing in a brown household, it’s v hard to express so I make do by just holding her hand. This was an adorable, intricate and detailed piece of writing and I loved it. ❤️