I've heard it said that the key to a man's heart is through his stomach. I've found that, in six years of being married, this is true for my husband also. I know how to adapt my moods according to his, and what food to make to complement his different moods. Like if he has a cold, I know to make him something really spicy; and to make him feel appreciated, I make something sweet.

The story: I am not Indian, but like many people I love authentic Indian food. Growing up in the Northern Cape, the curry-and-rice stall was a staple of any church or school bazaar and on many occasions my mother (who was a wonderful cook and organiser) was in charge of the food stalls. This meant that the night before the school or church fete our kitchen would be full of steam and chatter, with people chopping onions, scraping meat around huge pots and simmering vast vats of rice. Curry, as I knew it as a child, was a sloppy spicy mince with overcooked white rice, a huge dollop of chutney, a spoonful of chopped tomato and onion and a sprinkle of coconut.

From as long as I can remember, my mom has always been a great cook! Curries are no doubt her speciality. On weekdays, with work and campus, the family seldom gets to enjoy meals together. But weekends – they’re an absolute treat!