brussels sprouts · food · rice noodles
Think You Hate Brussels Sprouts? It Might Be The Cooking Technique
This is not a gloat post. But I have never understood why people hated Brussels sprouts.
Stories of food, memory & the questions that follow
botany · heartbreak · memory
Before hing blooms in our ghee, a wild ferula waits beneath a brutal landscape, only to surrender the very life she spent years building…
Read the story ↗Not recipes with a childhood anecdote tucked politely above them.
These are stories, rooted in food, memory, history, and whatever refuses to stay quiet.
Recently unpacked
Essays that begin at the table and wander wherever the story insists.
brussels sprouts · food · rice noodles
This is not a gloat post. But I have never understood why people hated Brussels sprouts.
american seasonings · food · italian seasonings
Have you ever wondered why American seasonings feel different from the ones you have used in another country? Maybe you’ve even dreamed about…
elementary school · food · lunch
We’re still months away from National Bento Month. Yes, if you didn’t know, such a phenomenon exists. I didn’t either until I came…
food · india · indian recipes
I’m not a food historian or from the North Western part of India. But I am a food enthusiast and I love dissecting…
beverage · breakfast · Chennai
The secret an unforgettable south indian filter coffee has nothing to do with the coffee bean. Read to find out.
chana dal vada · masala vadai · paruppu vadai
Nostalgic in newspaper cones: A South Indian classic Masala Vadai recipe for thundu pasi moments, with a tea kadai soul
children · clubs · kids
In an era of people lost inside 6-inch screens, an interesting idea is to start clubs for little kids to make new friends…
andhra · food · paruppu podi
I hate Indian Podis. They are so ridiculously simple and versatile for a dish that tastes so phenomenal. And because of how insanely…
The writer behind the pakodas
A chai-time read
Hello, I’m Divya
Pakoda Stories is my corner of the internet for the stories food leaves behind: the people who fed us, the ingredients we barely notice, and the memories that return with the first sputter of a tadka. Some days I am funny. Some days I am furious. Occasionally, I make you mourn a spice.
More about me ↗A letter from my kitchen
New stories, sent only when there is something worth telling.