Before Preservatives.. There was the Bharni

Think back to your childhood.

Maybe you remember visiting your grandparents’ home during the summer holidays. Or spending time in a hometown where the kitchen always seemed to have something waiting to be opened.

Those huge bharnis of achar. Papads and wadis drying in the sun. Spices carefully stored away. So many things made at home and kept for the months ahead.

And if you think about it, you rarely saw packets of ready made masalas sitting in those kitchens.

Food was preserved, of course. Just differently.

Pickles were preserved with oil and salt. Vegetables, papads and wadis were dried in the sun. Spices were roasted and stored carefully, away from moisture.

These were simple things our grandmothers knew almost instinctively.

But there is something else about that food culture that I find beautiful.

Nothing was really meant to be eaten in excess.

Achar, for instance, was never the main part of the meal. You took a little bit on the side of your plate - just enough to bring that tangy, spicy burst of flavour.

And that mattered because oil and salt were used in larger quantities for preservation. They made the food last, but they also meant that the pickle was something to be enjoyed in small amounts.

I think spices were treated with the same understanding.

They weren’t there to overpower the food.

They were there to make the food taste better.

A little mustard. A little cumin. A little fennel. Just enough to make a simple sabzi memorable.

That is something I have carried with me while building Iya.

I don’t believe flavour means adding more and more spices. For me, it is about finding that little bit of balance where you can still taste the actual food.

Of course, the way we make and consume food has changed. Food today travels much further and is often made on a much larger scale, so preservation becomes an important part of manufacturing.

But when food is made in smaller batches, there is an opportunity to keep things simpler.

That is the way I wanted Iya to be.

Whole spices. Small batches. Thoughtful blends.

Nothing added just for the sake of adding it.

Because when I think about those old bharnis in my grandparents’ homes, I don’t remember complicated ingredient lists.

I remember food that was made with care.

And perhaps that is what I want to bring back, in my own little way.