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Hello Reader
Accidents can sometimes be fortuitous. Earlier this week, I replied to a friend's message after they sent me an Instagram reel of finger limes. The video was from a store in L.A. called Sasoun Produce, a small, family-owned market I think most people in L.A. know and that is well known for its wide variety of fruit. I replied, “I have some growing in my backyard that I need to share with you.”
Now, little did I know I hadn’t replied to my friend but to the store, which then surprised me with a box of fruit. There were mamey, dragon fruits, feijoas (pineapple guavas), tamarillos, and many other fruits that I had to look up online. I even have a cacao pod that a friend of mine wants me to attempt fermenting the beans from to make cocoa. That will be an experiment, and you know what, I might just try it out.
As I went through the box, I realized that this is one of the things I love most about cooking. There is always something I haven’t seen before or don’t know much about, and I want to learn more. I want to taste it, figure out how people use it, and maybe even cook with it.
When I publish a cookbook, a question that comes up every time is: Is it Indian?
It’s a difficult and, honestly, uncomfortable question to answer. Even though this question is now familiar to me, I haven’t really come up with an answer that’s succinct. Each of my books has some Indian recipes people might have heard of or eaten before, and some dishes might be influenced by ingredients or techniques used in Indian cooking. But there are also large chunks of recipes that have nothing to do with Indian cuisine. I’ve included them because I know they’re delicious, and they are a fun way to showcase a technique or ingredient you might or might not be familiar with.
There’s a part of me that also doesn’t want people to feel disappointed when they ask me this question. So, I respond awkwardly that the book has some Indian recipes, but it’s also a general cookbook. It’s happened a few times. But at the same time, I also want them to not walk away, to flip through the pages of the book themselves, and give my work a chance. Inside, I feel like a little kid, crushed, while on the outside I’m doing my best not to show it.
When I was closing the deal for my first cookbook, Season, both my editor and literary agent felt it was better to position the book around the topic I am most passionate about: flavor. This way, I wouldn’t be tossed into a bucket because of my name and identity. Chronicle Books was the only publisher that had thought about this, which made me realize they were truly looking into my capabilities and had spent time trying to understand who I really was.
Let me be clear, I am proud of my heritage and culture. Without them, I’m not sure what my outlook on cooking would be. Many of the choices I make and the way I approach cooking are rooted in Indian cooking techniques, but much of it also comes from trying to understand the world and how people approach flavor in their own ways.
But just because I grew up in India doesn’t mean I need to cook only Indian food and I certainly, don't cook Indian food all the time at home.
I see myself as a general cookery book author who uses science to understand and explain flavor. The number of diverse authors writing general cookbooks is very limited. The number of authors writing science-themed cookbooks, even smaller. In fact, several years ago, cookbook author Samin Nosrat once told me after a book talk that I should feel proud because when The Flavor Equation came out, she and Kenji López-Alt were the only other people she could immediately think of in that category of books.
I got goosebumps when I heard that. I’d never paid attention to this.
It also made me wonder what we consider a “general” cookbook in the first place. Every cookbook is influenced by the person writing it, what they grew up eating, where they live, what ingredients they have access to, and what they’ve learned along the way. But some authors seem to be allowed to write about food without their identity defining what their book is about. For others, their identity becomes the first thing people use to understand and categorize their work.
Who gets to write about vegetables, baking, grilling, or flavor without having to explain why? Who gets to simply be curious about food?
Fundamentals of Flavor contains Indian recipes from West Bengal that I wanted to share because I love them and think you will too. But it also includes recipes inspired by my love for ingredients like gochujang, miso, calabrian chile paste, and chestnut purée that I use in my home cooking. They are all part of the way I cook.
And who knows, things can change. Tomorrow I might wake up and have a completely different outlook on the type of cookbook I want to write. But more than anything, I want to be able to make that choice myself.
Do I want to write an Indian cookbook? I’d love to, but for now, I simply want to cook and share recipes without having to think about this.
xx
Nik
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Pre-order Fundamentals of Flavor before 8/31 for a chance to get a second book for FREE (perfect to gift) as well as a Zwilling Fresh & Save. US only.
Ketchup fried rice feels particularly fitting for today’s newsletter. Indo-Chinese food is a product of cultures meeting and changing, with Chinese cooking techniques and ingredients adapted over generations in India and taking on their own place. In fact, it is so popular that several restaurants in India have a separate menu section devoted to it.
Here, I use basmati rice instead of the more traditional jasmine. Its long grains and relatively low moisture content help it stay separate rather than clump during stir-frying. Ketchup might seem like an unusual addition to fried rice, but it brings acidity, savory depth, and a fruity sweetness that works beautifully with soy sauce. A splash of rice vinegar keeps that sweetness in check.
Maybe that’s why I love recipes like this so much. Food doesn’t always stay within the categories we create for it. Neither should cooks.
Roast Chicken with Chorizo
Crispy chicken, spicy chorizo, and potatoes roast together in one pan, soaking up all that flavorful rendered fat as they cook. A final scattering of cool, salty feta balances the richness and brings everything together. It’s an easy, deeply savory dinner with minimal cleanup and maximum payoff.
