My Peculiar Preoccupation With Pickles
Picklessssss ... .gulp! That was my mouth watering. That is the kind of effect that even the mere thought of pickles have on me. If you ask me when my love affair with pickles began, I would probably say way back when I was in school when I was about about 10 to 12 years old. As my body was preparing to deal with teenage hormones my tastebuds were crushing over pickles and how?! I would seek out pickles of every variety - spicy, sweet, sweet and spicy, mango, amla, tendli, garlic to accompany my meals. It was a peculiar preoccupation but wasn’t harmful in any way, so explore? I did! The fact that pickles were given importance within my family added to my curiosity as well as quenched it at the same time.
Making pickles, especially mango pickle, was a ritual at home in Bombay. Today, on an unusually hot summer day in the UK, I am transported back to my grandmother‘s kitchen in the midst of all those flavours, smells and sounds.
It is the middle of May, the peak of summer in Bombay. I am five again. The atmosphere in my house, is abuzz with the annual ritual of making mango pickle. My grandmother, mother and aunt are sitting in a circle with all the ingredients interspersed among them. Wicker baskets filled with dozens of raw mangoes, roasted fenugreek seeds, glass jars of yellow turmeric and fiery red chilli powder, a ceramic pot filled to the brim with cooking salt and a vat of golden glistening oil.
The smell of raw mango and chilli powder is exacerbated in this unbearable heat. However, there is no delaying of this almost sacred ritual. The best raw mangoes are carefully assessed and selected by my grandmother's expert hand. She judges its texture by how it feels to her hands. She also smells the mangoes to ensure that they are nowhere near becoming ripe. The raw mangoes need to feel taut to the touch, possess a certain shade of green which is some between the light and dark shade of green and smell just right to ensure that they do NOT smell remotely sweet.
Even at her age my grandmother is seated comfortably on a low lying cutting board which has a sickle at one end. She picks a raw mango, holds it against the sickle blade and slices it neatly into two equal halves. Every time she slices the mango into half the friction created by the raw mango against the blade lets out a slick slick slick sound. The halves are then chopped into smaller pieces. It is amazing to see how uniform these pieces are. The pieces are collected and kept aside on a huge steel plate.
The remaining ingredients are then mixed with this chopped mountain of tangy goodness. The order of ingredients is extremely important. Consequently, my aunt and mum are in charge of ingredients as agreed upon at the beginning of the process. In go the salt and chilli powder measured carefully by my aunt. The oil and roasted fenugreek seeds duly follow with mum’s experienced approximation which is always perfect. Her able hand mixes all the ingredients ensuring all of the raw mango pieces are equally coated.
Once the mixture is given a nod of approval by my grandma, it is transferred into glass bottles or ceramic ones and carefully sealed. Gossip is exchanged, jokes are cracked and the feminine energy is almost electric. It is not to be disturbed at any cost. I sit by my mother trying to contribute to this beautiful family ritual but feel entirely overwhelmed by my senses.
The ceramic jars have a particular name - bharni. These bharnis come in various shapes and sizes and the most popular pickles are stored in the biggest ones. Apart from mango pickle other family favourites are lime, garlic and a mixed vegetable one - including carrots, cauliflower and tendli - all raw of course.
Pickles have always been associated with longevity and preservation. However, it is tantalising for the taste buds to notice that there are some pickles that are specially made to be eaten fresh. The main difference being that the amount of oil that you use in the long-term preservation method is not applicable to this one, so essentially you make the pickle on the day and you eat it immediately. The flavours are enticing to say the least.
Amla and Bimbul were commonly used for fresh pickles as these were easily available to us thanks to the trees in our garden. Fresh produce was taken for granted as it is only now that I know the importance of having organic produce at your doorstep or in your backyard.
Another ritual of making fresh pickle was that we would often use the dregs that would remain at the bottom of the vessel that the pickle is mixed in with plain white rice - so your rice will have a lovely tangy ‘pickly’ flavour to it. I remember fighting for this as a child, especially when it was mango pickle for the taking. Speaking of eating, I never eat pickles with a spoon or fork. It is always with my fingers licking them into my heart content.
Pickles are usually used to enhance the eating experience of the meal, especially if the food is bereft of the required or desired level of spices. Pickles are also an inherent part of wedding menus, although very often ignored. The interesting bit to note however is that even though they might be sitting untouched amidst lush biryanis, sabzis and mithai, they are sure to be noticed if absent. Perhaps that’s why I relate to pickles in some way - they are always there, ready to add a little spice to your life!
Written by Snehal Amembal
I am a freelance writer, editor and poet based in Surrey (UK). I currently freelance with Business Insider, Her View From Home and Motherly. I am also an Editorial Board member for Parkinson’s UK. My writing primarily reflects my motherhood journey, memories of my childhood and the essence of everyday moments.
I have authored three chapbooks, ‘Pause’, ‘I Am’ and ‘In Between Love' . My fourth poetry book ‘Magical Mundane’ and my debut memoir ‘PapaMa’s Portrait’ will be published in the latter half of 2025.
My work has appeared in anthologies as well as in literary zines. I worked as an Editor with Daily Life Magazine for 1.5 y 2020 - 2021). You can take a look at my work here https://linktr.ee/notessonthego
Finally, I am a Young Onset Parkinson’s Disease (YOPD) warrior and create awareness about the condition through my writing.
