In 1987, our grandma Lakshmi wrote down the masala recipe in a small notebook. The notebook still lives in our kitchen — the spine is cracked, the pages are stained, and there's a coffee ring on the cover from 1994. We have it memorized, but we still consult it sometimes. Just to be sure.

In 1987, our grandma Lakshmi wrote down the masala recipe in a small notebook. The notebook still lives in our kitchen — the spine is cracked, the pages are stained, and there's a coffee ring on the cover from 1994. We have it memorized, but we still consult it sometimes. Just to be sure.

The recipe that started it all

The original recipe had 24 spices. Over the years, Anjali has added eight more — for colour, for depth, for the way certain spices sing with our Scarborough water. The current blend is 32. We dry-roast each one separately on a cast iron tawa, then grind them together in small batches every morning.

The sourcing problem

Most of our spices come from the same suppliers our family has used in Mumbai for 30 years. We import directly — no middlemen, no warehouse, no sitting in a plastic bag for six months.

There's one spice we can't get right in Toronto: fresh stone flower (kalpasi). It's a lichen that grows on rocks in the Western Ghats, and it's central to authentic Chettinad cooking. We've been working with a friend in Chennai who ships it to us twice a year. The day a fresh batch arrives is a quiet holiday in our kitchen.

What it does to the food

Hand-roasting releases the essential oils in whole spices in a way pre-ground spice simply can't. The kitchen smells different on a masala morning. The flavours are brighter, more layered, more alive.

It's an extra 45 minutes of work every day. We do it anyway. We'd rather spend the time than the compromise.

— Anjali