As the morning sun breaks through the kitchen window, a soft, golden light falls on the timeworn brass thali resting on the countertop. Its edges, slightly worn from years of use, gleam with a quiet reverence. Around it are clay pots of varying sizes—some used for slow-cooked rice, others for hearty stews, their earthy aroma filling the space. The sounds of a family in motion—the rhythmic chopping of vegetables, the steady hum of the stone grinder being worked by hand—blend into the warmth of the room, creating an atmosphere that feels both timeless and deeply familiar.
This scene, one that could easily be found in any number of homes across India, brings us back to a time when the kitchen was more than just a space for cooking; it was a place where tradition, memory, and culture intertwined. And at the heart of this kitchen, as always, are the utensils—objects that carry stories of craftsmanship, labor, and love. This traditional kitchenware, like the brass thali or the stone grinder, are tools that are bearers of history, holding within them the echoes of generations past It is easy to overlook the brass thali in a modern kitchen filled with shiny, mass-produced stainless steel plates..
Yet, it is the brass thali that always manages to take center stage during family meals, especially during the special occasions when heritage is at its most visible. The simple, yet elegant, brass thali often becomes a symbol of connection to the past—a reminder of the care and effort that once went into preparing a meal, a task that in many homes is still carried out with great attention to detail. As a child, I often wondered why we used this heavy, intricate plate when modern kitchenware was available. Why not plastic or stainless steel, as we saw in so many other homes?
But my grandmother’s answer was simple: "These are the things that have history. They carry something deeper than just food." And it was then that I understood—tradition was not about preserving things for nostalgia’s sake; it was about connecting to something real, something that has meaning. The brass thali was a bridge to our heritage, a living part of the stories that shaped our family’s identity.
In today’s world, where everything is disposable and rapid, where cooking has become less about the process and more about the end product, the traditional utensils stand as a powerful reminder of the value of effort. They tell us that food is not just about feeding the body; it is about nourishing the soul, honoring those who have come before us, and ensuring that the love and care put into each meal live on in the generations to come.
The beauty of these traditional utensils is that they are not simply relics of the past; they are very much alive, continuing to serve a purpose in the kitchens of today. And in many ways, they are making a comeback, not just as a means of preserving history, but as a way to celebrate it. People today, especially chefs and home cooks, are rediscovering the joys of cooking with clay pots, brassware, and stone grinders, realizing that these objects, though seemingly archaic, offer something modern cookware cannot: soul.
On my recent trip to Kasba Peth, Pune, I met a group of young and experienced brassmith artisans; they spent days hammering and molding sheets of brass into intricate designs.
The hands were weathered, the face was etched with the years of work, but the tired eyes held the pride of someone who knows the value of their craft. One of them told me that he learned the art from his father, who learned it from his father before him. The brass degchi, he explains, is a symbol of art for them—a piece of history and family wealth passed down through the generations, and they all have their own touch, their own love, to the craft.
It is the artisans like him who keep these traditions alive. Their work is not just about creating utensils; it’s about maintaining a connection to a time when every meal was an act of care and commitment. And while the modern world may push for quicker, more efficient solutions, these artisans remind us of the beauty of the slow process, the effort required to create something that will last.
But perhaps the most poignant aspect of these traditional utensils is the role they have played, and continue to play, in the lives of women. In homes across the country, it is often the women who are the keepers of tradition, ensuring that these objects continue to be passed down through the generations. They are the ones who use the stone grinder, the clay pot, and the brass thali, not just for cooking, but as part of the fabric of their daily lives. They are the ones who prepare the meals, who make sure the heritage is not lost, all while balancing their own roles within the family. They understand the value; often these utensils will have their family names engraved, which you would not see in
modern times. They would also take pride in telling you the nutritional value. They would tell you the use of different pots for different purposes: a thick-bottomed pan for slow and even cooking, while the thin ones are for a quick meal; the value of earthen pots, from storing to serving. This knowledge is passed on to generations.
Yet - despite the profound connection between women and these traditional kitchen tools, their labor often goes unnoticed. The act of preserving heritage—whether it’s by cooking with these utensils or simply caring for them—has traditionally been the work of women. And as much as we celebrate the beauty of the brass thali or the stone grinder, we must also remember the women who have ensured that these pieces of heritage continue to find a place in our kitchens. They are the silent keepers of tradition, ensuring that the legacy of our ancestors lives on in the meals we share around the family table.
As we move forward into a world dominated by modern convenience, it is important to remember that tradition and modernity do not have to be at odds. There is space for both. The brass thali, with its warmth and history, can sit alongside the sleek stainless-steel plates of today. The stone grinder, though slowly being replaced by electric versions, still carries the flavors of the past, flavors that modern gadgets struggle to replicate. These traditional utensils, and the stories they carry, continue to be an essential part of who we are—a reminder that, in the rush to modernize, we must never forget what has come before us.
The kitchen is a sanctuary of tradition; it is a living museum and holds within it the power to preserve not just food but the soul of a family. The pressure cooker may save us time, but it does not save us the experience of slow-cooking. It does not celebrate the process. There’s a beauty, a calming ritual, in watching a pot of food simmer and breathing in the deep, earthy aroma.
But this isn’t just a matter of nostalgia. The resurgence of clay cooking, stonewares, and handmade utensils speaks to a growing understanding of sustainability. The very act of using traditional kitchenware can feel like a return to roots, an embrace of slowness and conscious consumption in a world that’s increasingly dominated by fast fashion, fast food, and rapid technological advancement.
Ultimately, it’s about finding the balance between tradition and modernity, between slowness and speed. Food, after all, is not just about what is eaten; it is about how we eat, with whom we share our meals, and the traditions we pass on.
Share this post