You know how there’s some things you see and they immediately remind you of somebody or a time or place in your life? I’ve always been fascinated by how powerful food is in that respect. And more often than not, our food memories are associated with a certain special somebody, our near and dear ones. This story isn’t very different, but it hold a very special place in my heart. Every scorching Indian Summer, we, just like billions of other Indians across the country celebrate. We celebrate not the heat, but the arrival of mangoes. Mango season is all about juicy, sweet orange hues and pulpy, messy deliciousness. And for my family, Grandma’s mango chutney is proof of the summer and of a good mango season.

My memories of and associations with Grandma’s mango chutney are rather vivid. At the end of the school year and the onset of the summer holidays, there would be several glass jars of this sticky, translucent mix lined up on the window sill. The sunlight penetrating through the orange hues creates a magnificent warm rainbow effect. This light and shadow play with food fascinated me long before my food-architecture love affair.

Looking Back

I remember my mum and grandma meticulously sealing the caps with duct tape, to prevent any accidental spills or leakages. They would then wrap each jar in layers of newspaper and into the suitcase they’d go. Grandma’s mango chutney would travel every year with us to our family in the English countryside. There it would be savored by my Grandma’s brother, and wife, their daughters and their husbands; and all their grandchildren. Last year, something must have gone wrong because I opened my suitcase on arrival to find a sticky mess. It was delicious, that mess.

This year, we didn’t get to visit our family in Surrey. But Grandma got down to work. And for the first time ever, I was able to be a part of the magical, meticulous process from the very beginning. She starts with firm, fragrant raw mangoes, ‘kairi‘ we call them. After peeling them (mind you, this takes a solid while), she slices them lengthwise (almost like mango wedges). These are then salted and refrigerated overnight to allow them to get soft. Sugar and water are boiled together before the mango wedges are added in. These are boiled until soft. An array of spices are added in including nutmeg, turmeric, red pepper, chilli flakes, black raisins, whole peppercorns and cumin seeds. White vinegar is added to finish the mix which has by now attained its magical orange-yellow color. Once cool, bottling begins.

Looking Ahead

For the first summer in 22 years, I stayed home. While it was initially hard to digest that I wouldn’t see my friends and family or a new city this summer, I look back and appreciate it. I appreciate the time I got to spend with my Grandma. Next summer, I’ll try and recreate her mango chutney. I will most definitely do something with the mango skins though.

Written by Jashan Sippy.

‘Food, the Feeling of Home’: A series of stories exploring nostalgia, the power of food, our memories and stories of ‘home’. Want to share your story? Send it to us at info@sugarandspace.in