Kulfi

by – Kanta Kumar

Shared by – Archna Kumar

I was reading the newspaper this morning when an article in the Sunday Hindustan Times caught my attention. It spoke about how children’s literature in English is slowly moving away from stories filled with scones and gingerbread men, and instead embracing flavours closer to home — rasam, jalebis, thukpa, biryani and so much more.

And honestly, it felt so true.

Because when life becomes overwhelming, when we feel low, lonely or emotionally exhausted, what is it that comforts us most naturally?

Almost always, it is food.

Not extravagant meals, but the familiar dishes lovingly made for us by the people who raised us. The flavours we grew up with. The aromas that instantly transport us back home.

These days, people call it comfort food.

But perhaps comfort food is simply another way of saying:
the food made with love by those who made us feel safe.

One line from the article stayed with me deeply:

“Food is never just food, it’s a taste of joy and belonging.”

And another thought the article touched upon was how food today is associated less with playfulness and more with memory, longing, identity, loss and love.

Reading those words felt almost like reading the very soul of this blog.

Because yes, a recipe can tell you how to make a dish.

But it can never fully explain the memories attached to it. The laughter around the table. The waiting. The togetherness. The people.

Those stories are the real ingredients.

After all of us siblings got married, Ma and Papa started a beautiful tradition. Once every month or so, they would call all of us over with our spouses and later, with our children too, for a big family lunch.

And while the meals themselves were always special, there was one thing all of us waited for most eagerly at the end of every gathering.

Ma’s kulfi.

It slowly became the most anticipated part of those family lunches.

This recipe was perfected together by Ma and Didi over the years, and even today, it proudly holds its place at our family get-togethers. Of course, kulfi is made in many homes, and every family has its own version.

This one is ours.

Rich, creamy, fragrant with cardamom and filled with memories of togetherness.

So here is our family’s kulfi recipe.

Ingredients

• 1.5 kg full cream milk
• 200 gm khoya
• 1 cup sugar
• Pistachios, chopped
• Green cardamom powder, to taste

Method

1. Boil the milk in a heavy-bottomed pan and allow it to simmer gently until it reduces to almost half its quantity.
2. Stir frequently while boiling so the milk does not stick to the bottom of the pan.
3. Crumble the khoya and add it to the reduced milk.
4. Add the sugar and continue stirring until everything blends smoothly.
5. Add green cardamom powder and mix well.
6. Let the mixture cook for another few minutes until slightly thick and creamy.
7. Switch off the flame and allow the mixture to cool completely.
8. Add chopped pistachios and mix gently.
9. Pour the mixture into kulfi moulds or small steel bowls.
10. Freeze for several hours or overnight until completely set.
11. To serve, lightly rub the mould between your palms or dip briefly in warm water to release the kulfi easily.

Serve chilled and enjoy slowly.

Some desserts are sweet.

And then there are desserts like these — carrying within them family traditions, lingering conversations after lunch and the comforting feeling of always belonging somewhere.