Indian kitchen,
American table.
I grew up watching my mother cook without a single measuring spoon in sight. The spices went in by smell. The dal was ready when it looked right. The roti was done when it puffed up and told you so.
Now I cook for my own family — a mix of dal nights and pancake Sundays, of masala pasta and buddha bowls. I write it all down so you don't have to guess.



