Who This Book Was For

Everyone thinks the food cooked by their mom is the best in the world. I am no exception.

I have always been more than ready to relish my mom's cooking, both in India and when she visited us in the United States several times over the years. The story here takes a different turn. On one of her visits, my wife, Padmini, suggested she write down all her recipes so we could bring the fervor and the flavor to life whenever we tried to make them ourselves.

My mother sat down and penned about 200 recipes — with all the proportions, directions, and the number of people each one could serve. Except for a few, all the recipes she wrote down were unique; neither I nor my siblings ever remember tasting most of them. All 200 recipes were written in a matter of a few months, and remarkably, there are no mistakes to correct, no strikethroughs, and no second thoughts on any of them.

My mom passed away in 2011. Suddenly I woke up to the thought of publishing these recipes for the benefit of my siblings, and for the children of the next generation. She had written everything in Tamil, and I needed to translate it appropriately into English. I grouped the recipes by genre — Breakfast Items, Chutneys, Curry & Koottu, Kuzhambu & Sambars, Pickles, Rasam, Rice Varieties, Snacks, Spice Powders & Podis, and Sweets & Desserts. This took almost three to four years to complete.

Padmini had the idea to make each recipe ourselves — not only to authenticate it and taste the food, but to photograph every dish for the book. Suddenly the task became a monumental one; living in California, ingredients like Arunellikkaai (a variant of gooseberry), Manithakkaali, and raw Sundaikkaai were nearly impossible to find. We enlisted my sister, Usha Sukumar, to make the dishes that could only be made in India. Padmini cooked most of the rest during our "spare" time, with able help from Usha. My daughter Priyadharshini helped with copyright issues, and Subhashini proofread every page for clarity.

I hope that when you try any of these dishes, you get the same pleasure we did, savoring something unique and, for most of us, entirely new.

— Dr. K. S. Ravindhran, Pacific Palisades, CA

About My Mom

Jambagalakshmi at birth. Suguna after her marriage. My mother, in every way that mattered.

Always curious, my mom's adventurous and motivated demeanor kept her youthful and experimental in her cooking style throughout her life. Born the eldest into a large family of eight, she went on to raise a large family of her own — myself, my four brothers, and my sister. Her passion for learning never slowed, even into her later years. She spoke every South Indian language fluently, a result of my father's frequent transfers to new postings every three years.

Early in her marriage, she took up photography — developing negatives and printing photos in an improvised darkroom at home — along with traveling and discovering new local cuisines and handicrafts. She excelled at knitting sweaters, scarves, and embroidered bedspreads. When my father passed away in 2002, she found new avenues for travel, going on pilgrimages across India with large groups of people she befriended and stayed close to for years. But her strongest passion, always, was cooking — making new recipes from scratch.

A typical day in our house began with my mom waking around five in the morning. She'd prepare breakfast for the family, then lunch, all completed by ten — leaving her the rest of the day to explore other interests. Her visits to the United States starting in 1980 exposed her to pasta, pizza, and Mexican food. Whenever she returned home, she reinvented those dishes with indigenous Indian ingredients, from scratch, and served them to our entire extended family.

At the age of 74, over just two months, she documented the recipes reflected in the pages of this book. Some of the regional dishes from Kerala, Karnataka, and Andhra that she made bore her own unique stamp, in both taste and flavor. She loved reading and watching movies — traits she generously passed on to me and my daughters, neither of whom ever tired of her pickles. They say the store-bought variety still isn't the same.

We fondly remember her last trip to the US in 2006, for my second daughter's wedding. Her influence and moral support kept family traditions alive, with in-laws frequently asking, "What does Paati say?" At 76, she rejoiced in the wedding festivities, dancing in the Kummi Aattam alongside everyone else. Her vibrant, lively spirit shined onto our family and friends — memories we cherish to this day.

My mom passed away in 2011, due to complications with her heart. In her honor, my granddaughter Laila — born after my mom's passing — bears one of her maiden names, "Lakshmi."