Introduction: A Jar Full of Love
Have you ever opened a jar and thought it was filled with memories? That is precisely what I think every time I open a jar of Homemade pickles made in just the way my Umma (that’s “mother” in Malayalam) showed me. This is not food – it’s a tale, a smile, a warm hug, and a dash of magic preserved in one glass jar.
Here, in this blog, I’ll tell you how my Umma used to make the world’s best pickles, how she passed on that love to me, and how those jars became a source of happiness for my family.
Who is Umma?
Umma is my mom. She’s not just a mother — she’s a chef, a storyteller, a teacher, and the heart of our home. She has the softest hands and the kindest smile. But when it comes to pickles, she becomes a superwoman. Umma can transform simple things like mangoes, garlic, or prawns and make them a flavor that tilts on your tongue.
She doesn’t use machines or fancy stuff. Just her hands, love, and a few secret tricks.
When I First Watched Her
I still remember the first time I saw Umma making pickles.I was small — maybe 7 years old. She was wearing her go-to flower-patterned apron, in our tiny kitchen, the smell of roasted spices filling the air. There were plates of mango slices, garlic cloves, and red chilies. I was perched on a stool and watching.
Roast the spices always slowly,” she instructed me. “The aroma has to open up like a flower.”.
It was like magic. The turmeric turned the garlic golden, the oil snicked softly, and the glass jars lined up like little soldiers ready to hold the treasure.
The Secret Ingredients (Shh!)
Okay, okay — I can’t tell you all of Umma’s secrets (she’d give me that look!). But I can tell you a few special things that made her pickles so amazing:
- Love – It’s the most important thing. She always said, “If your heart is not happy, your pickle won’t be either.”
- Patience – Some pickles take days or even weeks to reach their best flavor. Umma never rushed them.
- Natural Ingredients – No fake colors or chemicals. Only what nature gives us.
- Sunlight – Yep! Some jars sat near the window to soak up sunshine for a few days. Sunlight helps the spices blend better.
Pickle Days Were Happy Days
When it was “pickle day” at home, everything changed. The kitchen smelled amazing. Neighbors dropped by, asking, “What are you making today, Umma?”
We would play music, and I’d help peel garlic or stir the mango slices. Sometimes, my cousins would come over and we’d have a little pickle-tasting party.
“Too salty,” one would say.
“Perfect!” another would shout.
But Umma knew. Her taste buds were sharper than any of ours. She always got it just right.
Different Types of Pickles We Made
Umma didn’t just make one type of pickle. Oh no! We had a whole team of pickles:
- Mango Pickle – Tangy, spicy, and bright red. A classic.
- Garlic Pickle – My personal favorite. Soft, flavorful garlic swimming in thick oil.
- Prawn Pickle – Made with tiny, dried prawns. Crunchy and spicy!
- Beef Pickle – A rare treat, made during special festivals.
- Yam and Dates Pickle – Sweet and earthy. Like a dessert pickle!
Every jar was different, but they all had Umma’s magic touch.
What I Learned from Her
More than the recipes, Umma taught me something more important:
- Respect food. “Don’t waste,” she’d say. “Every slice of mango is precious.”
- Be patient. Waiting helps things grow — and taste better.
- Share what you make. Umma always gave a jar to our neighbors, to friends, and even strangers. “Pickles are meant to bring people together,” she’d smile.
She also taught me how to smell when something is just right. Not by timer, not by machine — just by trusting your senses.
My Turn to Make Pickles
One day, Umma said, “It’s your turn.” I was nervous. What if I did it incorrectly?
She worked with me, teaching as I chopped, stirred, roasted, and poured. We laughed a lot. Some cloves of garlic evaded the chopping board, and I added a bit too much chili.
But after it was done, and the jar cooled down, we both tasted it. She smiled and said, “It tastes like home.”
That was the best compliment I ever had.
Now I Make Them for You
Today, I make those same pickles — just like Umma taught me. I bottle them up with care and send them to people who miss that homemade love.
Every jar you buy isn’t just food. It’s a story. It’s a memory of my Umma, of sunny kitchens, of laughter, and of simple joys.
You might taste mango, garlic, or prawns… but what you’re really tasting is our tradition.
A Thank You to Umma
Umma may not be as fast now, but she still tastes every batch I make. Her approval means everything.
Sometimes she says, “Hmm… needs a little more love.” So I hug her and laugh.
Thank you, Umma, for teaching me not just how to make pickles… but how to fill every jar with love.