Chef Pankaj Bhadouria Shares Heartfelt Kitchen Lessons from Her Mother This Mother’s Day

On Mother’s Day, we often revisit the aromas of our childhood—the simmering pots, the hum of a familiar tune, and the quiet magic that mothers create in their kitchens. For celebrated chef, educator, and India’s first MasterChef, Pankaj Bhadouria, those memories are not just nostalgic but foundational.

Before the cameras, the cookbooks, and the culinary school, there was a mother who cooked with her heart and taught without saying a word. In this heartfelt conversation, Chef Pankaj opens up about the kitchen hacks passed down through generations, the dishes that defined her childhood, and how simple moments on a kitchen slab became the recipe for a lifelong love affair with food.

This Mother’s Day, join us as we celebrate not just the women who raised us, but the quiet wisdom, resilience, and love they served—one perfectly balanced dish at a time.

What’s the one kitchen hack your mom taught you that you still swear by?
The one unforgettable trick my mom taught me—and one I still follow religiously—is to always add a pinch of salt to anything sweet, and a pinch of sugar to anything savoury.

My mother was Bengali, and this wisdom came from her mother. She believed it didn’t just elevate the dish—it balanced the flavours beautifully. It’s a subtle yet powerful move I’ve passed on to my daughter and every student at my Academy.

Was there a dish your mother made that always seemed effortless and delicious?
My mother made cooking in the kitchen seem like a breeze! For her, it was the easiest thing to do in the world! Her secret- she just loved cooking! That love infused every dish she made—and honestly, I can’t recall ever eating anything less than perfect when it came from her hands.

Do you remember a moment in the kitchen with your mom that sparked your love for cooking?
Absolutely! As a child, I’d sit on the kitchen slab, watching her cook while she hummed her favourite tunes. Later, I’d come home from school, finish my homework, and return to that very spot, talking about my day and helping her with little things like shelling peas or fetching ingredients. Somewhere in those everyday moments, her love for cooking became mine. It was never taught—it was inherited.

Did your mom ever rescue you from a cooking disaster?
Oh, countless times! I once added way too much salt to a dish—she calmly dropped a few dough balls into the gravy and simmered it for a while. Another time, it was too much chili, and she balanced it out with a bit of malai. A burnt cake top? She simply removed it and turned the rest into cake pops! Many of my “Pankaj ke Nuskhe” are actually her tips—kitchen wisdom that came with compassion, not criticism.


What’s the one dish your mom made that still brings you the most comfort, and have you tried recreating it?
The day I lost my mom, I had just returned from college. She was in the kitchen, and I asked, “Ma, kya bana rahi ho?” She smiled and said, “Aloo matar aur garma garam puri.”

To this day, aloo matar is my ultimate comfort food. I’ve tried making it so many times, but it never quite feels the same. Maybe that’s intentional—maybe I want to preserve that moment exactly as it was.

What was your mom’s unique ‘signature move’ in the kitchen—something only she did?
She sang. That was her signature. Humming while cooking, smiling, completely at ease—it was never a chore for her. Cooking was her love language, and the kitchen was where our family bonded the most. Mom cooked, Dad fed us, and the kitchen echoed with laughter. That’s my most cherished memory.

In every recipe Chef Pankaj Bhadouria shares, there’s a whisper of her mother’s wisdom, a dash of nostalgia, and a whole lot of love. This Mother’s Day, as she reflects on the woman who first stirred her passion for cooking, she reminds us that the best dishes aren’t just made with skill—they’re made with heart. “Love what you do, and it becomes easy,” her mother used to say. It looked effortless, only because she loved every bit of it. And sometimes, all it takes is a pinch of salt, a sprinkle of sugar, and the memory of a mother’s humming voice to make a kitchen feel like home.