Why Food Made by Nani Always Tastes Like Love
Manika | Jul 30, 2025, 22:00 IST
( Image credit : Timeslife )
Highlight of the story: Because sometimes, love comes wrapped in parathas, kachoris and extra ghee. Your favorite childhood dish wasn’t from a 5-star kitchen. It came from a woman in a cotton saree /cotton suit, humming bhajans, stirring dal slowly with love in her eyes-your nani. Somehow, even the simplest paratha she made had more flavor than anything you’ve tasted since. But why does nani’s food feel like an embrace we crave even as adults? Let’s unravel the beautiful mystery of nani ke haath ka jadoo.
When you think of the most delicious meal you've ever had, chances are it wasn’t from a Michelin-starred restaurant. It was probably from a small kitchen with steel utensils clanging, a radio playing old Lata Mangeshkar songs in the background, and a woman in a faded cotton saree telling you, “Aur sabzi le le, beta, sirf roti mat kha.”
Yes, we’re talking about nani, your maternal grandmother. And more specifically, her food. The one taste you’ve been chasing your entire adult life.
But what is it about nani ke haath ka khana that hits different? Why does a simple dal-roti made by her taste better than anything fancy you’ve ever eaten? Let’s explore.
To your nani, love isn’t a feeling. It’s action. It’s visible. And one of her biggest love languages? Feeding.
Your plate was her canvas, and love was that extra dollop of homemade ghee she’d sneak on top of your paratha when she thought you weren’t looking.
“Bas ek aur roti, phir meetha milega,” she’d say, knowing full well she’d give you both, anyway.
Where the world counted calories, she counted the sparkle in your eyes.
Modern chefs talk about “flavor profiles” and “techniques.” But nani had one unbeatable trick: she cooked for you, not just for the recipe.
She remembered your favorite sabzi, how much sugar you liked in your kheer, and whether you preferred your poha soft or crispy. She adjusted the flame, the salt, even the frying time not based on any cookbook, but on you.
Her recipes weren’t written down. They were felt. Passed from heart to hand, with every tadka whispering: “This is for my little one.”
Let’s not forget the legendary kachori from the stall near the temple, or that kulfiwala you once mentioned. She remembered.
You didn’t even need to ask. She’d casually say, “Kal tere liye woh wali kachori laayi thi,” like it was no big deal.
But it was.
She noticed the smallest things. That little spark in your eyes when you talked about a snack. The way your face lit up after a meal. Nani was not just a grandmother—she was your first food memory collector.
Today, we talk about “slow food” like it’s a trend. For nani, it was her rhythm.
She began prepping early soaking daal, sun-drying masalas, kneading dough without a machine. She didn’t multitask or rush. Every step had intention.
And because she wasn’t just feeding your hunger she was nourishing your soul.
There was no pressure cooker involved when she made your favorite rajma. It was simmered on a low flame until the aroma filled every corner of the house… and your heart.
Did you pass an exam? Come home from hostel? Visit after months?
Nani would act all casual but there would be halwa, kheer, gulab jamun—maybe all three waiting for you.
She didn’t say “I’m proud of you” or “I missed you” in words. She showed it through the extra dessert after lunch, the chatni she remembered you loved, or the surprise snack at 4 PM.
Her food was a love letter written in sugar, spice, and everything nice.
Even when you grew older and left for college or work, nani found ways to stay connected.
“Woh achaar le jaana, maine tere liye banaya hai.”
“Tere hostel ke liye mathri aur namakpare rakh diye hain.”
my nani always says "subah-subah ek pinni kha liya kar, bhook nahi lagegi"
Even from miles away, she made sure you had a piece of home in a tiffin. The food lasted days, sometimes weeks. But the emotion in it? That lingered for years.
One bite of her alu puri, and you’re back in that summer vacation. Watching cartoons. Waiting for lunch. Feeling safe.
Her food was more than sustenance. It was ritual. It was comfort. It was consistency in a changing world.
And now that you’re older, maybe even cooking your own meals, you realize no recipe can recreate her magic. Because what made it magical… was her.
Nani was the only one who could scold you for being careless and still say, “Khaana toh khake jaa.”
You might’ve made mistakes. You might’ve upset her. But the kitchen remained your sacred ground.
She made sure you never left hungry, not from the table and not from her heart.
You never saw her rush while cooking. For her, the kitchen was her mandir, and every meal was an offering of gratitude and care.
Before festivals, before fasts, before big family gatherings, she woke up before everyone, humming bhajans, grinding masalas, setting up the kitchen with the kind of devotion you rarely see anymore.
Maybe that’s why her food felt sacred.
Try as you might, you’ll never make the kadhi exactly like her.
You’ll add the same haldi, mirchi, and hing. You’ll follow the same steps. And still, something will be missing.
Because what made nani’s food special wasn’t just what she put in it. It was what she put around it her presence, her love, her memories, her voice saying, “Aur le na beta, tu toh kuch khata hi nahi.”
Nani didn’t just feed us. She taught us:
That love is action, not words.
That slowing down is worth it.
That listening matters, even to taste preferences.
That joy can be made in small kitchens.
And that food becomes memory when it's made with heart.
So the next time you eat something that feels like home, pause. Smile. Because somewhere, somehow, your nani’s love still lingers; in your habits, in your tastes and in the way you now make food for someone else.
Explore the latest trends and tips in Health & Fitness, Spiritual, Travel, Life Hacks, Trending, Fashion & Beauty, and Relationships at Times Life!
Yes, we’re talking about nani, your maternal grandmother. And more specifically, her food. The one taste you’ve been chasing your entire adult life.
But what is it about nani ke haath ka khana that hits different? Why does a simple dal-roti made by her taste better than anything fancy you’ve ever eaten? Let’s explore.
1. Her Love Measures in Extra Ghee, Not Calories
Your plate was her canvas, and love was that extra dollop of homemade ghee she’d sneak on top of your paratha when she thought you weren’t looking.
“Bas ek aur roti, phir meetha milega,” she’d say, knowing full well she’d give you both, anyway.
Where the world counted calories, she counted the sparkle in your eyes.
2. The “Secret” Ingredient Was Always You
She remembered your favorite sabzi, how much sugar you liked in your kheer, and whether you preferred your poha soft or crispy. She adjusted the flame, the salt, even the frying time not based on any cookbook, but on you.
Her recipes weren’t written down. They were felt. Passed from heart to hand, with every tadka whispering: “This is for my little one.”
3. That Famous Kachori Stall? She Remembered It.
You didn’t even need to ask. She’d casually say, “Kal tere liye woh wali kachori laayi thi,” like it was no big deal.
But it was.
She noticed the smallest things. That little spark in your eyes when you talked about a snack. The way your face lit up after a meal. Nani was not just a grandmother—she was your first food memory collector.
4. Slow Cooking Meant Something Else for Her
She began prepping early soaking daal, sun-drying masalas, kneading dough without a machine. She didn’t multitask or rush. Every step had intention.
And because she wasn’t just feeding your hunger she was nourishing your soul.
There was no pressure cooker involved when she made your favorite rajma. It was simmered on a low flame until the aroma filled every corner of the house… and your heart.
5. That Extra Sweet Dish Was Her Way of Saying ‘I’m Proud of You’
Nani would act all casual but there would be halwa, kheer, gulab jamun—maybe all three waiting for you.
She didn’t say “I’m proud of you” or “I missed you” in words. She showed it through the extra dessert after lunch, the chatni she remembered you loved, or the surprise snack at 4 PM.
Her food was a love letter written in sugar, spice, and everything nice.
6. Food Was Her Way of Staying in Your Life
“Woh achaar le jaana, maine tere liye banaya hai.”
“Tere hostel ke liye mathri aur namakpare rakh diye hain.”
my nani always says "subah-subah ek pinni kha liya kar, bhook nahi lagegi"
Even from miles away, she made sure you had a piece of home in a tiffin. The food lasted days, sometimes weeks. But the emotion in it? That lingered for years.
7. She Taught Us That Food Is Memory
Her food was more than sustenance. It was ritual. It was comfort. It was consistency in a changing world.
And now that you’re older, maybe even cooking your own meals, you realize no recipe can recreate her magic. Because what made it magical… was her.
8. Even Her Scoldings Came With a Hot Paratha
You might’ve made mistakes. You might’ve upset her. But the kitchen remained your sacred ground.
She made sure you never left hungry, not from the table and not from her heart.
9. Her Rasoi Was Her Temple
Before festivals, before fasts, before big family gatherings, she woke up before everyone, humming bhajans, grinding masalas, setting up the kitchen with the kind of devotion you rarely see anymore.
Maybe that’s why her food felt sacred.
10. The Taste You Can’t Recreate… Is Her Presence
You’ll add the same haldi, mirchi, and hing. You’ll follow the same steps. And still, something will be missing.
Because what made nani’s food special wasn’t just what she put in it. It was what she put around it her presence, her love, her memories, her voice saying, “Aur le na beta, tu toh kuch khata hi nahi.”
In the End, Her Recipes Were Really Just Lessons
That love is action, not words.
That slowing down is worth it.
That listening matters, even to taste preferences.
That joy can be made in small kitchens.
And that food becomes memory when it's made with heart.
So the next time you eat something that feels like home, pause. Smile. Because somewhere, somehow, your nani’s love still lingers; in your habits, in your tastes and in the way you now make food for someone else.
Explore the latest trends and tips in Health & Fitness, Spiritual, Travel, Life Hacks, Trending, Fashion & Beauty, and Relationships at Times Life!