Kombdi, Jira Ghalun (Cumin-Scented Chicken)

AS A CHILD, I had no interest in cooking. My head was always in a book, I dreamed of being a writer, and I later trained to be a journalist. But food was circling in the air above me. After all, I had grown up with great cooks who were always throwing parties and discussing food.

My parents came from India, from a generation that made everything from scratch. Mom was the speediest, most inventive cook I knew. If she lacked equipment or ingredients, she

found innovative solutions. Her food was experimental but delicious. Her mother, Aji, by contrast, was precise and deliberate. Aji’s recipes tasted the same every time: familiar and comforting. When I was working as a reporter in Bombay, Aji generously taught