Selina
My family story hails from the richness of Arabia, through India and then to East Africa. We travelled across the seas in search of opportunity and security and found ourselves in English suburbia.
I am an Ismaili Muslim. One thousand years ago, the Ismailis ruled the Fatimid Empire, now modern day Egypt, promoting academia, art and religious tolerance. Falling to wars and invasions, the Ismailis turned to an underground life. Renamed as the Hassassins they became warriors with a formidable reputation. The Hassassins travelled through Asia, and in Gujarat they converted my ancestors and many others, to Islam.
My ancestors were Gujurati Indians, who left their Hindu faith to follow Ismaili teachings. As misfortune would have it, my great grandfather was forced to leave Gujarat for eyeing up his best friend’s bride. On a small dhow, he stole away into the night, across the spice route to Zanzibar. In one lifetime, he cavorted with the British, made a fortune in the spice trade, lost it all overnight and died the very next day leaving nine children and a penniless wife.
In spite of his humble beginnings, my unschooled grandfather worked as a janitor then progressed to an office clerk and eventually bought his own small farm in Moshi, at the foothills of Kilimanjaro. He was an entrepreneur who brought homogenised milk to East Africa and soon became one of the most influential men in Moshi.
I am an Ismaili Muslim. One thousand years ago, the Ismailis ruled the Fatimid Empire, now modern day Egypt, promoting academia, art and religious tolerance. Falling to wars and invasions, the Ismailis turned to an underground life. Renamed as the Hassassins they became warriors with a formidable reputation. The Hassassins travelled through Asia, and in Gujarat they converted my ancestors and many others, to Islam.
My ancestors were Gujurati Indians, who left their Hindu faith to follow Ismaili teachings. As misfortune would have it, my great grandfather was forced to leave Gujarat for eyeing up his best friend’s bride. On a small dhow, he stole away into the night, across the spice route to Zanzibar. In one lifetime, he cavorted with the British, made a fortune in the spice trade, lost it all overnight and died the very next day leaving nine children and a penniless wife.
In spite of his humble beginnings, my unschooled grandfather worked as a janitor then progressed to an office clerk and eventually bought his own small farm in Moshi, at the foothills of Kilimanjaro. He was an entrepreneur who brought homogenised milk to East Africa and soon became one of the most influential men in Moshi.
Both my parents were born in Tanzania. Following independence and a popular resentment of the Indo-African monopoly that had developed, they came to England in search of prosperity. There they met George Walker, a betting industry shark who sold them shares to a small failing restaurant in London. Their food was a weave of their Gujarati roots and the Swahili coast that they had left behind. They welcomed the swinging sixties with their second restaurant, next to the Playboy club in Mayfair and within months they entertained the Jackson Five and were paid regular visits by Anthony Hopkins.
My childhood playground was an industrial kitchen and on rare occasions my special treat was to fire the naan in the tandoor. My brother and I used to play in the walk-in fridges, lined with legs of lamb and setting paneer. Our food was Indo-African, wholesome and humble. For many years we shared this varied cuisine with the privileged clientele of South Kensington.
Sharing food was an integral part of my upbringing. So, I would like to invite you and your friends to my home to celebrate the migrants' stories. Each supper club we will follow a different community, recreating their journey on the dinner table.
Welcome :)
My childhood playground was an industrial kitchen and on rare occasions my special treat was to fire the naan in the tandoor. My brother and I used to play in the walk-in fridges, lined with legs of lamb and setting paneer. Our food was Indo-African, wholesome and humble. For many years we shared this varied cuisine with the privileged clientele of South Kensington.
Sharing food was an integral part of my upbringing. So, I would like to invite you and your friends to my home to celebrate the migrants' stories. Each supper club we will follow a different community, recreating their journey on the dinner table.
Welcome :)
Aniket
Food has always been a big part of my life. My parents and I immigrated from India in the early 90's and from Mumbai to rural Yorkshire good food has always at the constant heart of family.
I was born in South India into a Hindu-Brahmin family whose culture of food is as colourful as the rituals of my faith. Every season brought with it new delicacies, new vegetables and fresh produce. Rice was valued as precious as gold and our house was always full of chatter, cooking, people and spices. Every deity demanded a different cuisine; golden ladoos and sweetmeats for the elephant Lord Ganesh, beaten rice flatbreads and spicy chutneys for the lamps of Diwali and honey coloured rolls stuffed with jaggery for the new year and weddings. My grandmother hailed from an agricultural dynasty that grew almost everything. The courtyard of her family farmhouse would overflow each harvest with peanuts, cardamom, sugar cane, betel and rice but to name a few. To her food was a way of life, the transformation of these raw ingredients to the fare of her family's table was nothing short of alchemy. The way she would grind the spices, concoct chutneys and roll soft white chappatis was magical. As our matriarch she laid the law. The kitchen was revered, the living heart of the home, sacred and respected. I grew up loving the food of my family and desperate to learn the secrets of their craft.
We travelled from India to Saudi Arabia while my father worked as a doctor during the Gulf War and then back again. Finally we settled in the wild North Yorkshire countryside where I was raised on a mixture of hearty home cooking of my Indian heritage and the great country food of the UK. This cultivated a love of good flavour, simple cooking and a joy in entertaining.
I was born in South India into a Hindu-Brahmin family whose culture of food is as colourful as the rituals of my faith. Every season brought with it new delicacies, new vegetables and fresh produce. Rice was valued as precious as gold and our house was always full of chatter, cooking, people and spices. Every deity demanded a different cuisine; golden ladoos and sweetmeats for the elephant Lord Ganesh, beaten rice flatbreads and spicy chutneys for the lamps of Diwali and honey coloured rolls stuffed with jaggery for the new year and weddings. My grandmother hailed from an agricultural dynasty that grew almost everything. The courtyard of her family farmhouse would overflow each harvest with peanuts, cardamom, sugar cane, betel and rice but to name a few. To her food was a way of life, the transformation of these raw ingredients to the fare of her family's table was nothing short of alchemy. The way she would grind the spices, concoct chutneys and roll soft white chappatis was magical. As our matriarch she laid the law. The kitchen was revered, the living heart of the home, sacred and respected. I grew up loving the food of my family and desperate to learn the secrets of their craft.
We travelled from India to Saudi Arabia while my father worked as a doctor during the Gulf War and then back again. Finally we settled in the wild North Yorkshire countryside where I was raised on a mixture of hearty home cooking of my Indian heritage and the great country food of the UK. This cultivated a love of good flavour, simple cooking and a joy in entertaining.
London has been my home for the last 8 years while I have been studying. However my culinary pursuits have far outstripped my academic ones. I have loved having my own kitchen, experimenting and creating new dishes for friends and family. My travels abroad and experiences of eating in the capital have better informed my sense of cuisine and this has had a huge impact on my cooking. I have loved the discovery of new cultures and have loved even more learning the value of food to people and communities no matter their origin.
It is in this spirit that Kuhama was born. To showcase the way that food and people are crafted by each other. That stories of generations can be told and experienced not just by the history books but by the flavours at the table.
Come join us and we look forward to eating with you soon ...
It is in this spirit that Kuhama was born. To showcase the way that food and people are crafted by each other. That stories of generations can be told and experienced not just by the history books but by the flavours at the table.
Come join us and we look forward to eating with you soon ...