1994 was a year of change. In South Africa, Nelson Mandela became the country’s first Black president, marking the end of the apartheid. In America, Jeff Bezos founded Amazon.com, which would later become one of the world's largest online retailers. In India, Sushmita Sen became the first woman from the country to win the Miss Universe pageant. And in Bangalore, the Ganesh family procured a high end, state of the art, LG microwave with convection mode.
To my utter delight, the device came with a hardbound cookbook, featuring many highly produced photos of very aspirational looking recipes. There was an eggless raisin cake and a creme brulee and a pizza roll. There was an au gratin and, well, a paneer kofta biryani. This was pre late-stage capitalism, so there wasn't a lot of cohesion. And frankly, I didn't know and didn't mind.
I’ve always loved cookbooks. They strike me as the type of small thing that people who have their shit together and live well own.
The pandemic, coupled with the rise of short-form video, has catalyzed an under-acknowledged food renaissance. Eating meals has become a central event, with people devoting more effort to cooking and eating. What was once a rushed, survivalist necessity has transformed into a meaningful daily sacrament. Mealtimes are the moment.

This revolution coincided neatly with a period of nesting in my own life. A week before the pandemic began, my husband and I, then still boyfriend and girlfriend, signed the lease to the home in which we currently live. We didn’t know it then, but in the years to follow, we would live and work almost entirely from home - and it would be the beginning of a whole new way of going about our days.
This was a thrilling period for me. Finally, my life was matching the vision I had as a 13-year-old. I had a boyfriend, and we were doing this cool, progressive thing of living together as a type of pre-marriage experiment. It seemed as if our subconscious minds were collaborating to create an environment that felt warm and comely.
Mealtimes are an observance, and the table is its site. A great deal of beauty and life unfolds across a table. There is silence and comfort, and a sharing and witnessing and warmth. I tell him why I cried at therapy and what bothered me at work. He says a dumb teasing thing and sings it a second time for emphasis. We both laugh.
I love tables.
I don’t own any cookbooks. But the internet has brought cookbooks and recipes alive. I cant say I’m the type of person that stays away from my phone. My screentime is a categorical abomination. I’m on my phone a lot, and am now a type of purveyor of extremely yum, easy to make recipes.
The success of my mealtimes, if I come to think of it, are the result of the coming together of many forces. Talented creatives make up cool recipes and post them on the internet. Global economic forces and food ingredient supply chains have arranged themselves such that you can now get all sorts of condiments and milks and cheeses and groceries at the click of a button. Kitchen implements are now more effective than ever. You can air fry and froth and sieve and slice and juice more easily. And then if you live in India, you have the somewhat rankling privilege of hiring an able person to help prepare these meals.
It feels like the golden age of lunch.
Here are some meals I’ve really enjoyed making over the last few years:
This DELICIOUS tofu Noodle Stir Fry, by Minimalist Baker. Everything on that site is made from a handful of ingredients that are easy to substitute.
This also very delicious, totally subversive non traditional recipe comprising of roasted pumpkin, wild rice (I use dalia), lobia and a tofu + tahini base sauce. Credit to Sophie’s Plant Based Kitchen.
This recipe that I can no longer trace. It’s a tahini +tofu + cashew sauce, roasted veggies and some pesto.
Thank you for reading. Have a lovely week!
That last one looks FANTASTIC!
Me four years back: "These feel like animal fodder. I need something fun to eat!"
Me today: "These looks so delicious!" 😀