I've learned slow cooking from many people dear to my heart - some in far away countries of my childhood and youth; and others close to my home in America.

Nepal is my ancestral home, but I was raised mostly in India. I am of Newari descent, a race of people who were the original inhabitants of the Kathmandu valley.  Historians believe the Newars settled the Kathmandu valley in the early 3rd or 4th century AD.

From my maternal grandmother’s mother I inherited Lepcha blood. Lepchas were the original inhabitants of Sikkim.  They are now a vanishing tribe.

My childhood and young adult years were spent in a Catholic boarding school, with my maternal grandmother (Aji) in her home near Darjeeling (of Darjeeling-tea fame), with my grandfather (Assam-ko-Aja) and his household in Assam and occasionally with my paternal grandmother in Rajbiraj, an agrarian town on the borders of Nepal and India.

In boarding school, we were fed the usual boarding school fare of white bread, mulligatawny soup, liver curry, and oh yes, some sort of fishy dish on Fridays. To avoid the hot, muggy summers in Assam, my grandmother spent her summers in her home near the school. When she was in town, she would visit us on visiting-day every week, maid in tow carrying a basket of homemade goodies. We sat in the parlour and ate to our hearts content; pooris, pakoras, sandesh, aloo dum you name it.

My Aji’s father was an apothecary. She used to tell us stories of often accompanying him on his trips to the mountain, on small ponies in Eastern Nepal. She was very well versed in uses of herbs in both the culinary and medicinal field.

Winter holidays in Assam, at my Aja’s were spent listening to his collection of jazz records, and enjoying a cycle of scrumptious feasts and picnics. He had a huge household staff and the kitchen did not close ‘til past mid-night. Aja was an avid hunter. There was always game and the best vegetables from one of the three “bagaans’ (farms.) He was quite the anglophile so our tables were often laden with English fare. The best of spirits flowed generously!!

When visiting my paternal very Newar grandmother in Rajbiraj, we lived completely off the land. This was late 1940’s and 1950’s. Nepal was still under a feudal system. For generations my family had contracted with tenant farmers on a customary, and hereditary, basis. Wheeled vehicles were few and far between. Bullock carts laden with produce and grains arrived at the main house everyday. The grains were husked in the compound by the kitchen and well. Surplus was stored in small granaries, in the compound.

Compared to the exotic meals in Assam, what we ate in Rajbiraj, was simple and wholesome. The Newari festivals and feasts however were indulgent affairs, featuring a spicy assortment of fried, roasted, jellied and curried meats, curried and pickled vegetables, various rice dishes, soups, sweets and yoghurt. My grandmother made excellent home-made brew!

Rajbiraj Aji was also well versed in herbs and its uses. She used hers to make natural cosmetics. Every evening Centaury was burned in a clay dish shaped like an Aladdin lamp and the fumes were “waved” under all the beds to ward off snakes. Aji also applied centaury herb juice to clear spots on the skin.

In High School, one of the subjects included in the curriculum was Domestic Science (besides Mother-craft and Needlework. Honest!) It entailed a weekly class of mastering the culinary arts and other domestic matters. Meanwhile at home my mother said it was time to learn how to cook like all proper young ladies should. To my mother’s despair, many a dish I burned while stirring a pot of stew with my nose buried in a book. Thanks to my mother’s admonishment, and my Aji’s gentle encouragement I did manage to acquire rudimentary knowledge of the fine art of cooking.

My abilities were certainly tested when my future husband who was a Peace Corps Volunteer invited his parents from Alaska to trek in Nepal. This was 1970. Mom (Dan’s Mother) and I probably started bonding when we spent many an evening preparing and tending our stew over a camp fire ringed with three rocks, the good old-fashioned Nepali mountain way.

Dan and I married on April’s Fools Day (Dan’s Birthday) in 1971. Our honey moon was a veritable feast in more ways than not. Pindi Channa in a bus in the Khyber Pass, Afghani roti on horseback in the mountains north of Kabul, Turkish stew at a bus stop somewhere between Iran and Turkey, Souvlakis in Athens, German stew in Heidelberg, warm beer in London. Then by BOAC, Amtrak and a spanking new green 1971 Mercury Cougar (not ours; a family friend’s, we were transporting to Alaska!) to our first home in a logging camp in South East Alaska.

The logging camp ladies offered me tips on the old fashioned long-simmering and stewing ways of cooking. The logging camp was on an island. There was not much to do.

When we moved to town, I cooked many a pot of stew and chili while building our A-frame on Douglas Island then later a cabin on a cove in T-Harbor. We used our slow cooker and pressure cooker constantly. Dan was especially good with the pressure cooker. I honed my cooking skills, thanks to the tips from our chefs during the years we owned and operated a Steak and Seafood Restaurant.

I learned many a way of healthy cooking from Dan’s Mother, when we moved next door to his parents in the country in Washington State. We had a prolific herb and vegetable garden, with “state-of-the-art” compost bin, and a well equipped tool-shed. We worked in the city, but in spite of the long commute, we preferred living in the country.

At that time Dan developed celiac (gluten intolerance.) So there I was trying to learn gluten free baking with nary a book of recipes nor websites to help me. While I spent my time struggling to bake gluten free, I used my slow cookers to take care of most of our basic meals. Once again just like in the days of my childhood and youth I was enjoying a rich variety of food, slow cooked the old fashioned way, in the days before modern, fast-cooking methods.

Here in the high altitude, dry climate of Colorado, I manage to coax some herbs and vegetables in my containers and raised beds. I rely a lot on dried herbs and herb and spice paste for my cooking. They work well in my slow cooker recipes.

Every year when my sister Gangi comes to visit, we spend time exchanging and experimenting with various recipes. We sort and resort our recipes collected from our Aji’s, my mother, Mom, various friends and relatives, from our travels, from boxes and newspaper cuttings from India, Nepal and here. Sorting through the various recipes evoke memories of the many family and friends, some who are still around but we rarely see and others who are no more who inspired or taught us these recipes.

In my easy-slow-cooker-recipes site I put together some recipes I use often. In time I will add more so do bookmark this site and keep coming back. You can also sign up for my free weekly newsletter. I invite you to share your own favorite recipes, tips and stories to help make the newsletter more fun, informative, and interesting. Just use the form linked here to submit your contribution.

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