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Climbing the Mango Trees: A Memoir of a Childhood in India
'I was born in a sprawling house by the Yamuna River in Delhi. When I was a few minutes old, Grandmother welcomed me into the world by writing "Om", which means "I am" in Sanskrit, on my tongue with a little finger dipped in honey. When the family priest arrived to draw up my horoscope, he scribbled astrological symbols on a long scroll and set down a name for me, Indrani, or "queen of the heavens". My father ignored him completely and proclaimed my name was to be Madhur ("sweet as honey").'
So begins Madhur Jaffrey's enchanting memoir of her childhood in India. Her description of growing up a in a very large, wealthy family (half a train was booked to transport the family from Delhi to the mountains for the summer) conjures up the spirit of a long lost age. Whether climbing the mango trees in her grandparents' orchard, armed with a mixture of salt, pepper, red chillies and roasted cumin, or enjoying picnics in the foothills of the Himalayas, reached by foot, rickshaw, palanquin or horse, where meatballs stuffed with sultanas and mint leaves, cauliflowers flavoured with ginger and coriander, and spiced pooris with hot green mango pickle were devoured, food forms a major leitmotiv of this beautifully written memoir. With recipes drawn from memories of dinners, lunches, breakfasts, weddings and picnics, moving effortlessly from the lamb meatballs of Moghul emperors to the tamarind chutneys of the streets, this book will appeal to keen armchair cooks, as well as fans of Madhur the world over.
So begins Madhur Jaffrey's enchanting memoir of her childhood in India. Her description of growing up a in a very large, wealthy family (half a train was booked to transport the family from Delhi to the mountains for the summer) conjures up the spirit of a long lost age. Whether climbing the mango trees in her grandparents' orchard, armed with a mixture of salt, pepper, red chillies and roasted cumin, or enjoying picnics in the foothills of the Himalayas, reached by foot, rickshaw, palanquin or horse, where meatballs stuffed with sultanas and mint leaves, cauliflowers flavoured with ginger and coriander, and spiced pooris with hot green mango pickle were devoured, food forms a major leitmotiv of this beautifully written memoir. With recipes drawn from memories of dinners, lunches, breakfasts, weddings and picnics, moving effortlessly from the lamb meatballs of Moghul emperors to the tamarind chutneys of the streets, this book will appeal to keen armchair cooks, as well as fans of Madhur the world over.
303 pages, Paperback
First published October 6, 2005
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3992 people want to read
About the author
Madhur Jaffrey
94 books191 followersMadhur Jaffrey CBE is an Indian-born actress, food and travel writer, and television personality. She is recognized for bringing Indian cuisine to the western hemisphere with her debut cookbook, An Invitation to Indian Cooking, which was inducted into the James Beard Foundation’s Cookbook Hall of Fame in 2006.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 375 reviews
August 13, 2011
For fans of Madhur Jaffrey's cookbooks, this memoir will be, well, ... weird. I have been a fan for years, ever since I picked up one of her cookbooks while living in London. She has come to feel very much of a household presence for me, and I have felt intimately acquainted with her for years through cooking and eating her family's recipes. (Which are all DELICIOUS, by the way....) I had seen some excellent reviews of this memoir on amazon, and confidently suggested it to my book club when I saw it on a list of available books in our library's book club kits. I don't regret reading it, but I also don't regret the fact that this is a book that will go back to the library instead of on my bookshelf at home. It showed such promise in the onset, but in the end, felt like one of those 4th of July firecrackers that is just a dud. A big rocket of light into the sky and then "pffffffszzzzz"--a quiet, empty poof. I am not sure what happened for me here.......I love memoirs, and I love Madhur Jaffrey, so what could go wrong?
First of all, I strongly suspect that I would have liked this more had it not come on the heels of two very excellent book club reads, Jeanette Walls "The Glass Castle" and Jhumpa Lahiri's "The Namesake". These works are hard acts to follow for any memoir or book about an Indian family story. Having said this, I found myself frustrated because this book was not introspective enough for me. I always feel that there is a fine line with memoirs, between an author's self-focused indulgence of sharing their own inner process and story versus an external focus on their own memories of people in their lives that the reader doesn't care about. For me, this book suffers from the latter indulgence. To be quite honest, I wanted to learn about Madhur's experiences, thoughts, and feelings....not about her extended family members and what they wore and ate and said. I kept waiting for Madhur's personal story, and it never came. In fairness to the book, it IS exactly what it says......a Memoir OF A CHILDHOOD in India. Unfortunately for readers, this book isn't about the development of her interest in cooking, or the story of meeting her husband or finding her way in life, or growing old......it was about her childhood and her family lore, which left one with the distinct feeling that this book would be far more enjoyable to those who are mentioned in it than it was to me. This book is so WEIRD..... it is the equivalent of Lance Armstrong writing a book about his childhood in which he mentions riding a tricycle one day, but then focuses on anecdotes about his parents and cousins and grandparents. Who cares?
I am admittedly disappointed, but am excited about cooking some of the recipes in the back of the book for my book club. In the future, I will stick to Madhur Jaffrey's cookbooks, my favorite of which is "World Vegetarian".
On a positive note, I love the photographs interspersed throughout the book. Without them, the reader would truly struggle to even care or keep up with the extended family. Additionally, the recipes in the back are a nice touch. She does such a delightful job reminiscing about the foods they ate, and describing the aromas and flavors, that it is a treat to see that the reader may experience this too. Indeed, this is the real bread and butter of the book for me. (no pun intended!)
First of all, I strongly suspect that I would have liked this more had it not come on the heels of two very excellent book club reads, Jeanette Walls "The Glass Castle" and Jhumpa Lahiri's "The Namesake". These works are hard acts to follow for any memoir or book about an Indian family story. Having said this, I found myself frustrated because this book was not introspective enough for me. I always feel that there is a fine line with memoirs, between an author's self-focused indulgence of sharing their own inner process and story versus an external focus on their own memories of people in their lives that the reader doesn't care about. For me, this book suffers from the latter indulgence. To be quite honest, I wanted to learn about Madhur's experiences, thoughts, and feelings....not about her extended family members and what they wore and ate and said. I kept waiting for Madhur's personal story, and it never came. In fairness to the book, it IS exactly what it says......a Memoir OF A CHILDHOOD in India. Unfortunately for readers, this book isn't about the development of her interest in cooking, or the story of meeting her husband or finding her way in life, or growing old......it was about her childhood and her family lore, which left one with the distinct feeling that this book would be far more enjoyable to those who are mentioned in it than it was to me. This book is so WEIRD..... it is the equivalent of Lance Armstrong writing a book about his childhood in which he mentions riding a tricycle one day, but then focuses on anecdotes about his parents and cousins and grandparents. Who cares?
I am admittedly disappointed, but am excited about cooking some of the recipes in the back of the book for my book club. In the future, I will stick to Madhur Jaffrey's cookbooks, my favorite of which is "World Vegetarian".
On a positive note, I love the photographs interspersed throughout the book. Without them, the reader would truly struggle to even care or keep up with the extended family. Additionally, the recipes in the back are a nice touch. She does such a delightful job reminiscing about the foods they ate, and describing the aromas and flavors, that it is a treat to see that the reader may experience this too. Indeed, this is the real bread and butter of the book for me. (no pun intended!)
January 15, 2022
This was an unexpectedly delightful breath of fresh air. Much like my most enjoyed Netflix show of the moment, 'Ugly Delicious', this work takes on my recently developed passion for cooking in a way that actually acknowledges the real world, refusing to confine the spectrum of food to a stance wholly white and wholly male. True, the cooking only really came near the end with Jaffrey's litany of recipes, but there was such a wonderful mingling of history, family meals, and coming of age in the rest of the narrative that I never felt that I was missing out on much. Indeed, considering the expense and work that goes into these recipes, I can't see myself having the means to make them any time soon. As such, I feel that I did better to come to Jaffrey without having previously known her for her culinary fame, as I had more of an eye on a holistic memoir than something completely devoted to food. It just goes to show that I haven't completely lost my heart when it comes to the more casual genres of writing. My tastes are just more globally comprehensive than most.
India's one of those many countries that I've spent a good amount of time attempting to become familiar with and failing miserably for the most part. Jaffrey's memoir was more of a casual stroll compared to works that I've previously engaged with such as The Discovery of India and Women Writing in India, and so it was rather rewarding to learn about the Mughals and the Partition and the various strains of food collectively known as "Indian" without too much of a struggle. It's a shame that a large portion of this work's audience didn't appreciate this part as much. I suppose they want their chai tea and their naan bread and their tikki masala (I don't think there was even any mention of this last one) without the politics of bloodshed and imperialism that drove such cuisines to become what they are today. For example, if rendered monolinguistic, naan bread and chai tea become, respectively, bread bread and tea tea. India's large enough and old enough to fend for itself these days, but it wouldn't hurt for the average reader on this site to have a deeper appreciation of what made "curry" powder pop up in the "ethnic" section of their grocery market in the first place. It'd help prevent linguistic tragedies like the ones above, that's for sure.
One last thing I want to mention is the surprising and gratifying mention of the artist Amrita Sher-Gil, whose autobiographical compendium I've been on the look out for for some time. It's small shout outs like these that tell me I'm on the right path when it comes to autodidactism beyond the customarily narrow span of things, even if it's as simple as an esoteric name drop in a memoir written by a popular celebrity chef. Food can never be cut off from its origins, however hard white people stuffing quinoa into bahn mi may try, and it's works like these and the show 'Ugly Delicious' that gives food back to the people who worked and sweated and often literally bled to both create edible splendors and, more simply, feed the people. I doubt I'll be able to make Jaffrey's recipes any time soon, but the next time I eat "Indian" food, I'll at least be able to better appreciate it.
India's one of those many countries that I've spent a good amount of time attempting to become familiar with and failing miserably for the most part. Jaffrey's memoir was more of a casual stroll compared to works that I've previously engaged with such as The Discovery of India and Women Writing in India, and so it was rather rewarding to learn about the Mughals and the Partition and the various strains of food collectively known as "Indian" without too much of a struggle. It's a shame that a large portion of this work's audience didn't appreciate this part as much. I suppose they want their chai tea and their naan bread and their tikki masala (I don't think there was even any mention of this last one) without the politics of bloodshed and imperialism that drove such cuisines to become what they are today. For example, if rendered monolinguistic, naan bread and chai tea become, respectively, bread bread and tea tea. India's large enough and old enough to fend for itself these days, but it wouldn't hurt for the average reader on this site to have a deeper appreciation of what made "curry" powder pop up in the "ethnic" section of their grocery market in the first place. It'd help prevent linguistic tragedies like the ones above, that's for sure.
One last thing I want to mention is the surprising and gratifying mention of the artist Amrita Sher-Gil, whose autobiographical compendium I've been on the look out for for some time. It's small shout outs like these that tell me I'm on the right path when it comes to autodidactism beyond the customarily narrow span of things, even if it's as simple as an esoteric name drop in a memoir written by a popular celebrity chef. Food can never be cut off from its origins, however hard white people stuffing quinoa into bahn mi may try, and it's works like these and the show 'Ugly Delicious' that gives food back to the people who worked and sweated and often literally bled to both create edible splendors and, more simply, feed the people. I doubt I'll be able to make Jaffrey's recipes any time soon, but the next time I eat "Indian" food, I'll at least be able to better appreciate it.
March 12, 2012
لمن لا يعرف مادهور جافري فهي واحدة من أهم النساء الهنديات اللاتي كتبن موسوعات في كتب الطبخ الهندي ولاقت شهرة واسعة في الولايات المتحدة كما ساعدها في ذلك زوجها الأمريكي عازف الكمان
تقول إحدى قارئات هذا الكتاب إنها خذلت تماما كونها ليست مهتمة بعائلة مادهور وإحداهن تقول إنها اعتبرت هذا الكتاب خدعة
غير إن هذا الكتاب في رأيي يمثل أكثر من مجرد سيرة شخصية وحنين إلى حياة الطفولة الكتاب يوضح أنماط معيشة الأسر الهندية ذات الطابع الممتد الذي يحوي الجدات والعمات والخالات والأقارب إلخ إنه كتاب ذا طابع إجتماعي هذا من ناحية ومن ناحية أخرى فهو يقدم جزء من الثقافة الهندية في ما يختص بالمأكل والملبس وطرق التفكير والعلاقات المتشابكة بين الطوائف المختلفة خاصة من وجهة نظر فتاة عاشت حياة مترفة نوعا ما في بلد فقير عاني من ويلات الفقر والحرب كذلك لم تغفل مادهور الآثار التي ترتبت على إنقسام الهند بعد خروج بريطانيا وجذور التوترات بين الهندوس والمسلمين حتى على الطلبة في المدارس وكيف قضى على تلك الصداقات البريئة التي لم تكن تعي ماهية تلك التعصبات الدينية والتي حكت عنها تسليمة نصرين في كتابها العار بالتفصيل
طعمت مادهور كتابها أيضا بكل ما يختص بالتراث الهندي بدءا من حفلات الألوان ومرورا بالرقص النقري كما كان للأكل الهندي نصيبا وافرا حتى لتكاد تشّم عبق التوابل الهندية بل قد يصل الأمر إلى أن تشعر بأن الطبق أمامك ولا ينقصك سوى أن تمد يدك لتتمتع بما لذ وطاب وطبعا ذلك يرجع إلى الوصف الشائق الذي تمتعت به الكاتبة وخبرتها في أمور المطبخ ، اللافت للنظر هو تأثر الدين بنوعية الأكل لدى الهنود فكل طائفة يختلف أكلها عن الطائفة الأخرى
بعض صور العائلة أيام الطفولة والمراهقة كان شيئا رائعا لا أعرف بماذا أحسست وأنا أطالع تلك الصور القديمة ربما هي تلك النظرات المفعمة بالبراءة وتلك المحبة الصادقة وربما هي العفوية التي لم نعد نعرفها الآن
تسلق أشجار المانغا لم يخلو من فصل جمعت فيه جافري بعض الأكلات الهندية بمقاديرها وطريقة عملها بدت لي إنها مكافأة للقارىء ليحظى بأكبر قدر من التلذذ بتلك الأطباق الشهية
نصيحة : لا تقرأ هذا الكتاب وأنت تشعر بالجوع
تقول إحدى قارئات هذا الكتاب إنها خذلت تماما كونها ليست مهتمة بعائلة مادهور وإحداهن تقول إنها اعتبرت هذا الكتاب خدعة
غير إن هذا الكتاب في رأيي يمثل أكثر من مجرد سيرة شخصية وحنين إلى حياة الطفولة الكتاب يوضح أنماط معيشة الأسر الهندية ذات الطابع الممتد الذي يحوي الجدات والعمات والخالات والأقارب إلخ إنه كتاب ذا طابع إجتماعي هذا من ناحية ومن ناحية أخرى فهو يقدم جزء من الثقافة الهندية في ما يختص بالمأكل والملبس وطرق التفكير والعلاقات المتشابكة بين الطوائف المختلفة خاصة من وجهة نظر فتاة عاشت حياة مترفة نوعا ما في بلد فقير عاني من ويلات الفقر والحرب كذلك لم تغفل مادهور الآثار التي ترتبت على إنقسام الهند بعد خروج بريطانيا وجذور التوترات بين الهندوس والمسلمين حتى على الطلبة في المدارس وكيف قضى على تلك الصداقات البريئة التي لم تكن تعي ماهية تلك التعصبات الدينية والتي حكت عنها تسليمة نصرين في كتابها العار بالتفصيل
طعمت مادهور كتابها أيضا بكل ما يختص بالتراث الهندي بدءا من حفلات الألوان ومرورا بالرقص النقري كما كان للأكل الهندي نصيبا وافرا حتى لتكاد تشّم عبق التوابل الهندية بل قد يصل الأمر إلى أن تشعر بأن الطبق أمامك ولا ينقصك سوى أن تمد يدك لتتمتع بما لذ وطاب وطبعا ذلك يرجع إلى الوصف الشائق الذي تمتعت به الكاتبة وخبرتها في أمور المطبخ ، اللافت للنظر هو تأثر الدين بنوعية الأكل لدى الهنود فكل طائفة يختلف أكلها عن الطائفة الأخرى
بعض صور العائلة أيام الطفولة والمراهقة كان شيئا رائعا لا أعرف بماذا أحسست وأنا أطالع تلك الصور القديمة ربما هي تلك النظرات المفعمة بالبراءة وتلك المحبة الصادقة وربما هي العفوية التي لم نعد نعرفها الآن
تسلق أشجار المانغا لم يخلو من فصل جمعت فيه جافري بعض الأكلات الهندية بمقاديرها وطريقة عملها بدت لي إنها مكافأة للقارىء ليحظى بأكبر قدر من التلذذ بتلك الأطباق الشهية
نصيحة : لا تقرأ هذا الكتاب وأنت تشعر بالجوع
November 9, 2011
I devoured this book. This was a nostalgic journey through the privileged India of the early twentieth century. I got so engrossed, it was as if I had metamorphosed into the young girl who ran around orchids and kitchens and large rooms, ever inquisitive and all-absorbing. This book has rich descriptions of the food, heritage, lifestyle and architecture of the older India. One amusing thing is that, so far I was under the impression that Madhur Jaffrey is a famous Indian male chef and I was shocked to see the young girl in the various photographs and it was news to me that she had dabbled with the Indian theatre before diverting to cookery and cookbooks. Even now I dont know much about Madhur Jaffrey as the book abruptly ended at her early adulthood. I am eager to know of her further journey. I am planning to Google and find out more about her and I fervently wish she wrote more books (other than cookery books). This book will have a prominent place in my to-read-again shelf.
August 3, 2010
I like books about food. I like books about India. and I like a good "growing up in ___" story. But this book didn't really any of these things well. There are many ellipses and allusions when it comes to the real drama. They are taken up but then brushed aside with a description of tomato ginger potatoes.
I loved the food description, and even how the culinary tradition of Delhi changed after partition (from dominantly muslim cuisine of the old city to creamy Punjabi). But partition, which she notes killed 1 million people, is only touched upon. The riots literally happen a street over but never come to her home. Real drama happens in the other room or is touched upon "they waged a war against my family", she says, ominously, but never details. I suspect there are living people she does not want to offend.
It left me hungry for Indian food (yay! there were recipes in the back!) and hungry for more details of the dramas of her life that lead her to leave india, pursue acting, and then become one of the first voices of Indian culinary tradition in the West.
I loved the food description, and even how the culinary tradition of Delhi changed after partition (from dominantly muslim cuisine of the old city to creamy Punjabi). But partition, which she notes killed 1 million people, is only touched upon. The riots literally happen a street over but never come to her home. Real drama happens in the other room or is touched upon "they waged a war against my family", she says, ominously, but never details. I suspect there are living people she does not want to offend.
It left me hungry for Indian food (yay! there were recipes in the back!) and hungry for more details of the dramas of her life that lead her to leave india, pursue acting, and then become one of the first voices of Indian culinary tradition in the West.
December 22, 2008
We all know Madhur Jaffrey can write a mean cookbook and we all know she can act. But did you know she can write beautiful prose too? This memoir of her childhood is richly evocative, sprinkled with memories of family and food and everything in between. And food, oh the food. Do NOT read this book hungry, it will cause you to arrive at your destination and demand to be fed immediately (not that I did that or anything.)
September 13, 2017
A warm and comforting read . I was reminded of my own ancestral home and the variety of dishes I had in my childhood. Loved the chapter construction (small chapters) and the titles of the chapters..
October 8, 2018
يقول أورهان باموق:( الأدب هو موهبة أن نحكي حكايتنا الخاصة كما لو كانت تخص آخرين، وأن نحكي حكايات الآخرين كما لو ك��نت حكايتنا الخاصة)..ماذا يعني لك أنت تنتهي من سيرة وتجد نفسك بين دفة سطورها؟..هذا ماحدث معي وأنا أقرأ هذه المذكرات، المذكرات التي وهبتني في استذكار طفولتي التي مضت..أؤمن جداً أن السير الذاتية وحدها من تمنح للأمكنة وهجها..في هذا الكتاب تسترجع مادور جافري تفاصيل طفولتها العذبة لتنقل لنا بصور مكثفة عن الحياة التي عاشتها مع عائلتها تحت ظل شجرة المانغا، الشجرة التي حملت سيرة تاريخ العائلة بتاريخ ثري جداً وحافل يمتد من جيلٍ إلى جيل..إنّ أكثر ما أعجبني في قراءة هذه السيرة الروح المتسامحة التي تحملها مادور نحو أبناء بلدها برغم اختلاف الطوائف، ناشرة لنا معنى الحب و الوفاء الذي تحمله لبلدها برغم التمزق الذي حدث في فترة انقسام الهند بعد خروج بريطانيا، وبين التوترات التي حدثت بين أبناء الهند أنفسهم ( المسلمين والهندوس ) وكيف غزت هذه التوترات داخل المدارس وفرّقت بين الطلبة، لتنسج مادور من هذه السيرة مشاعرها وقوتها وعدم تعصبها من خلال تأثرها بالأب الروحي" غاندي " حيث كان مطلبه الأساسي أن لا يتم تقسيم الوطن..في هذا الكتاب تحدّثت مادور عن الاختلافات التي كانت منصبة بكل مايختص بالتراث الهندي والقصص الأسطورية مروراً بالزي التقليدي الهندي إلى الاحتفالات الدينية والرقص الخاص بهم لتنتهي بأسرار الطبخ الهندي ورائحة التوابل العالقة في الذهن..( أكثر ما آثر في داخلي وتركته لي مادور من هذه السيرة؛ بأنها جعلتني أحن إلى طفولتي والتمني بأن لا أكبُر..عندما كنتُ في سن السابعة كنتُ مع كل صباح أصحو فيه وأذهب إلى المدرسة، اعتدتُ أن أذهب إلى خلف المنزل وأصبّح نفسي برؤية الشجر الأخضر الممتد وهو يُظلِّل جميع منزلنا، كانت روحي تنتشي برؤية هذا الشجر وهو يكبر مع كل سنة أكبرُ فيها ، إنّ وجود اللون الأخضر في المنزل كان أشبه بالقصيدة التي تهب لي أسمى معاني الحياة..كما اعتاد والداي في كل صباح عندّ ذهابي إلى المدرسة أن يقدما لي رسالة تذكيرية " لا تنسي اقتناء الزبيب "،فكان عند والداي إيمانٌ راسخ بأن إذا لم آكل سبع حبات من الزبيب لن تركز المعلومة وسأنساها حين أتسلم ورقة الإمتحان، الاهتمام الذي جعلني أشعر بأني أميرة حقاً..كانت مكافئتي في كل عصرية: أمي وهي تغزل لي أنا وأخواتي أطواق من الياسمين، كانت أمي تدركُ جيداً ببناتها و بماذا يفكرن أو يريدن، كانت فرحتي أنا وأخواتي لا تُضاهى، مع الأسف الشديد أنّ كل هذا الشجر تم اقتلاعه من منزلنا، الاقتلاع الذي ترك في منزلنا معنى الفراغ الموحش..وأنا أرى الصور التي حملتها مادور من ذاكرة رائعة كنتُ أتذكر في كل جمعة من كلِّ مساء أمي وهي تخرج جميع صورنا، الصور التي حملت الكثير من خزائن الذكريات الرائعة، فبالرغم من تكرار مشاهدتنا للصور في كلِّ مرة لم نشعر بالملل أبداً أو فقدان متعة المطالعة، لا أعرف لماذا الآن اختفت هذه العادة، أو لماذا فقدنا كل هذه التفاصيل الدافئة؟..في نهاية الكتاب تقدِّم مادور لقرائها مكافئة ثمينة ولذيذة جداً؛ وصفات من المطبخ الهندي، الوصفات التي أخذت مقاديرها من أفراد عائلتها ومن التقت بهم في مسيرة حياتها..في هذا الفصل بالتحديد تُعيد بي مادور إلى أول مرة حينما دخلتُ فيها المطبخ وكيف فشلت في اتقان الوصفات، كنتُ كثيراً ما أعبّر استيائي لأمي التي كانت تقول لي دائما: حاولي مرة واثنتان، صدّقيني لن تفشلي في هذه المرّة..اتبعي دائما حواسك حينما تقومين بالطهي، إنّ من أسباب نجاح الطهي هو اختيارك الجيّد للتوابل، ثمَّ لا تنسي ياصغيرتي أن مسألة الطّهي فعل حُب إذا لم تحبي هذا الشيء مُطلقاً مؤكداً أنّكِ ستفشلين فيه حتماً..في الفترة التي كنتُ أقرأ فيها الكتاب، كنتُ أسمح لنفسي بالاستمتاع بين كل فصل رؤية الهند من زواية " الجزيرة الوثائقية " و عدسة رحلات باب " المشروع الكويتي المتخصص في الرحلات الثقافية وتحويل الكتب إلى سفرات حقيقية تقرّب جداً من القارئ، فبمجرد رؤيتي لتلك الصور تحت وسم #الهند_المثلث_الذهبي في "الانستغرام" أو مشاهدتي للأفلام الوثائقية أشعر أن فعلاً روحي سافرت وتعرفت على الكثير من الأسرار التي تحملها هذه البلدة.. )أخيراً..مهما تكن الأماكن التي نعيشها مع كل كاتب من خلال هذا السفر الروحي ويتركون في دواخلنا ذكريات مدهشة لاتغيب من الذاكرة، سنعود لواقعنا ونحن مؤمنين تماماً أنّ الذكريات التي حملناها ونحن أطفال صغار وتركت فينا أثراً بالغاً من الحنين أجمل بكثير ولا شيء يمكن أن نستطيع وصفه فهو أعمق بكثير جداً..( سيرة تستحق أن أقضي وقتي فيها بكل متعة )..
June 4, 2014
I regretted buying this book. The title, cover, and synopsis were all massively deceiving. The story is incoherent and the recipes are so sparse and simple that I felt cheated even though I bought it on sale. The writer could not stop droning on about how proud she was of the particular 'caste' she belongs to. A system that no-one should ever be allowed to talk about with such disturbing relish. At one point she managed a disparaging remark about Hijabis and that was pretty much all we saw about anything outside of her Hindu 'caste'.
Perhaps she appeals to the Indians of India is some way, but if the rest of the world has to judge her by her 'memoir', she sounds like a self-centered racist brat whose never lived beyond the boundaries of her family and her family's house.
Because I could not bear to look at this deceiving cover, I donated it to a Library. I regret that too; some poor soul is going to borrow it and be subjected to pages filled with nonsensical rambling and silly recipes.
Strictly for her fans or for people with low blood pressure looking for new methods to heighten their blood pressure levels.
Perhaps she appeals to the Indians of India is some way, but if the rest of the world has to judge her by her 'memoir', she sounds like a self-centered racist brat whose never lived beyond the boundaries of her family and her family's house.
Because I could not bear to look at this deceiving cover, I donated it to a Library. I regret that too; some poor soul is going to borrow it and be subjected to pages filled with nonsensical rambling and silly recipes.
Strictly for her fans or for people with low blood pressure looking for new methods to heighten their blood pressure levels.
December 23, 2020
سيرة جميلة للغاية ، سرد رائع مُفصَّل بمهارة ولا يتخلله أي ملل.
لم أتوقع أن أحُبّ الكتاب إلى هذه الدرجة أم أن النهاية
جعلتني عاطفيَّة؟
حياة مادور فاتنة مما جعلني أغبطها قليلًا، أتمنى أن يصل الكتاب لعدد أكبر من القرّاء لأنه مظلوم ويستحق الشهرة .
لم أتوقع أن أحُبّ الكتاب إلى هذه الدرجة أم أن النهاية
جعلتني عاطفيَّة؟
حياة مادور فاتنة مما جعلني أغبطها قليلًا، أتمنى أن يصل الكتاب لعدد أكبر من القرّاء لأنه مظلوم ويستحق الشهرة .
May 28, 2024
This isn't MyKindofBook whatsoever. Memoir? Food? Big families? Pshaw! But ... India, good writing, exploration and connection? Those are MyKindofThings. And you know, I love Indian food. And I found myself having to take breaks between chapters solely because her food mentions and descriptions were making me suffer and actually moan because I wanted the food. Especially the part when the Punjabi food makes its way to Delhi. Wow.
Great book. Fascinating childhood/ family/ anecdotes/ history.
Give me the food. Give me.
Great book. Fascinating childhood/ family/ anecdotes/ history.
Give me the food. Give me.
March 8, 2017
هنا أنت تفتح حواسك لتتذوق وتشم وترى وتحس وتسمع ، أنت لا تقرأ تاريخ عائلة ولكنك تقرأ تاريخ أمة !
March 8, 2014
“My grandfather had built his house in what was once a thriving orchard of jujubes, mulberries, tamarinds, and mangoes. His numerous grandchildren, like hungry flocks of birds, attacked the mangoes while they were still green and sour. As grown-ups snored through the hot afternoons in rooms cooled with weeded, sweet-smelling vetiver curtains, the unsupervised children were on every branch of every mango tree, armed with a ground mixture of salt, pepper, red chilies, and roasted cumin.”
Is your mouth watering yet? Reading Climbing the Mango Trees is as much a culinary expedition as it is a childhood memoir. Madhur Jaffrey’s upbringing as a child of a higher-caste family in India is fascinating for it’s social and historical details, but the icing of the autobiographical cake, has got to be the food.
A food writer/actress by profession, Jaffrey knows how to appeal to our all our senses with a flair for entertainment. I enjoyed the stories of her family and her childhood. With her grandparents firmly at the center of the large household, Jaffrey grew up in the same dwelling as aunts, uncles and numerous cousins. As a reader, we get a glimpse of the challenges of navigating the egos of a large family, as well as the cultural and religious differences of her private school classmates. When India becomes an independent state, with a separate Muslim state called Pakistan, those differences have a large impact on India as a whole, and on the young Madhur Jaffrey. It’s these insights that make this memoir especially appealing to me.
Her stories, interwoven with her memories of the wonderful meals she enjoyed, make this a delectable read. I’ll have to keep my copy of Climbing the Mango Trees shelved with my cookbooks now because Jaffrey includes over 30 family recipes in the book. I am eager to try them! 3 1/2 stars.
Is your mouth watering yet? Reading Climbing the Mango Trees is as much a culinary expedition as it is a childhood memoir. Madhur Jaffrey’s upbringing as a child of a higher-caste family in India is fascinating for it’s social and historical details, but the icing of the autobiographical cake, has got to be the food.
A food writer/actress by profession, Jaffrey knows how to appeal to our all our senses with a flair for entertainment. I enjoyed the stories of her family and her childhood. With her grandparents firmly at the center of the large household, Jaffrey grew up in the same dwelling as aunts, uncles and numerous cousins. As a reader, we get a glimpse of the challenges of navigating the egos of a large family, as well as the cultural and religious differences of her private school classmates. When India becomes an independent state, with a separate Muslim state called Pakistan, those differences have a large impact on India as a whole, and on the young Madhur Jaffrey. It’s these insights that make this memoir especially appealing to me.
Her stories, interwoven with her memories of the wonderful meals she enjoyed, make this a delectable read. I’ll have to keep my copy of Climbing the Mango Trees shelved with my cookbooks now because Jaffrey includes over 30 family recipes in the book. I am eager to try them! 3 1/2 stars.
October 15, 2021
3.7
Mood: Watercolor-ed memories of a unique childhood in India.
Caveat: Do not expect Madhur Jaffrey to air her family's laundry, things are alluded to but never fully come into light. Some readers are going to find that puzzling, but honestly considering Madhur provided lovely descriptions of India and her experience of growing up there, I was okay with it. Clearly she wanted to write something but decided not to take the road of airing family grievances.
Read if you want/need: delicious food descriptions, like food memoirs, something that won't leave you full of dread, a little slice of life that is not really interested in teaching you lesson but just telling you their story as they want to, need some armchair traveling.
Mood: Watercolor-ed memories of a unique childhood in India.
Caveat: Do not expect Madhur Jaffrey to air her family's laundry, things are alluded to but never fully come into light. Some readers are going to find that puzzling, but honestly considering Madhur provided lovely descriptions of India and her experience of growing up there, I was okay with it. Clearly she wanted to write something but decided not to take the road of airing family grievances.
Read if you want/need: delicious food descriptions, like food memoirs, something that won't leave you full of dread, a little slice of life that is not really interested in teaching you lesson but just telling you their story as they want to, need some armchair traveling.
October 30, 2009
I liked the idea of this book, a memoir of a childhood in India, but the execution left things to be desired. Ms. Jaffrey grew up in a very wealthy family during the British rule of India and experienced the changeover to Indian self-rule. But many important things were glossed over and instead the focus was an artistic version of her wonderful childhood. It was interesting, but not important. The thing that does stand out in the book is the authors descriptions of food. I really don't have much experience with Indian food, but reading about it made me want to go out and try so many new things!
October 16, 2020
I dare u to read this book without the desire for Indian food. I didn’t know about this authority on Indian food prior to reading this book but I thoroughly enjoyed it. I learned about history(and religions)of India, Madhur’s large extended family and food. There is a large recipe section and I look forward to attempting some of these recipes.
August 18, 2013
هذا الكتاب بمثابة سيرة ذاتية للأطعمة الهندية :) المؤلفة تتحدث عن تفاصيل الطهي بحب، وفي نهايته تورد وصفات مفصلة للأطعمة التي ذكرتها في ثنايا السيرة.
عدم إعجابي بالكتاب لايعني أنه سيء، كل مافي الأمر أنه لم يقع ضمن دائرة اهتماماتي
عدم إعجابي بالكتاب لايعني أنه سيء، كل مافي الأمر أنه لم يقع ضمن دائرة اهتماماتي
January 1, 2015
I got this as a gift and turned my nose up at it, until one day had absolutely nothing else... So it was a desperation read for me. Within a few pages I realized what a fool I had been! It's a marvelous book with family lore, regional history and women's history all wrapped up in a tasty feast.
September 23, 2017
بعد أربعمائة صفحة تحت ظلال الهند بين دلهي وكانبور حيث تقطن مع عائلة هندية لترى أسرارها ، تقاليدها ، طريقة العيش والأعياد والزيجات وكل تلك الطقوس والرحلات نحو جبال الهملايا ومراحل الحياة لمادور من الطفولة للمراهقة وسن الشباب ، الى ان أصبحت طباخة وأم مبهرة ، الكثير من الدهشة والأطباق اللذيذة بين طيات تسلق اشجار المانغا ، سيرة ذاتية لن تندم على قرائتها يوماً ما .
June 15, 2020
Beautiful story of an abnormal childhood in India. Jaffrey's variety of influences is unique and the way she expresses these influences through taste is truly engaging. I learned a lot about foods, history, and Indian culture.
March 27, 2024
A charming memoir of growing up in a wealthy Delhi family on the eve of Independence. Madhur Jaffrey lingers on tastes and smells, unsurprising for a famous cookbook writer. She also captures the constraints of being in a large extended family ‘ruled’ by her grandfather, where family dynamics (a favoured son, an unhappy marriage) flavour everyday life.
September 21, 2019
A fascinating memoir which also serves as a social history of upper-middle class family life during mid century India. The descriptions of food made me hungry!
November 12, 2021
A lovely memoir from Madhur Jaffrey, groundbreaking food writer and actress. As expected, the culinary details were vivid and mouthwatering.
February 13, 2023
I really enjoyed this book and had trouble putting it down. It's an interesting look at like in Delhi and India pre-Partition.
November 9, 2024
Enjoyable memoir of a girl growing up in India in a large family that was very much into English ways also. Includes recipes too! Worthwhile.
September 20, 2025
I enjoy history. It was a very personal childhood history of India between 1930 to 1953.
With family recipes.
With family recipes.
December 30, 2021
This was a great memoir although i would have loved for it to continue! I felt like i every got to really know who she becomes. Either way my grocery list has gotten so long just to try the recipes! Yum!
April 24, 2017
More reviews available at my blog, Beauty and the Bookworm.
This title came to me via the virtual book club over at The Deliberate Reader. I've been following along via the club (which discusses via Facebook) but haven't actually read most of the selections because, well, I've been doing other things. But July's book was The Cuckoo's Calling, which I read earlier this year. I joined in the discussion and had such a good time that I decided to bump the other books up on my priorities list! I won't be reading September's book, which is Hannah Kent's Burial Rites, because I read it a while ago and don't care enough for it to re-read, but I'll spend the rest of this month and next catching up on the other titles for the year that I haven't read, and join back in for October.
Madhur Jaffrey is apparently a chef and an actress, but I had honestly never heard of her until I picked up this book. She grew up in India in the years of WWII and India's independence. Her family lived in a multi-family setup in the area of Delhi. Jaffrey was a fairly privileged child, as far as I can tell. Her father managed various factories, but they could afford private schools and private drivers and could go on vacations in the hill resorts that involved servants packing picnics and renting out multiple houses for the family to stay in. Because of this, I don't think this is a really good example of what "life in India" was like. Granted, it's a memoir, and therefore limited to Jaffrey's view--but I'm also reading another memoir currently, that of Malala Yousafzai, and I think that one does a good job of including not only Malala's experiences but a broader view of how life in her area was in general. I don't think Jaffrey quite managed to do that.
The memoir is very food-focused but not in the way that many food books are. Jaffrey admits to not being interested in cooking until later in life, past the point in time at which this memoir occurs. Why would she have been? Her family had servants to cook for them, and while it seems like the family as a whole was more involved with food for special occasions, Jaffrey focuses more on other aspects of those--for example, the throwing of paint pigments and such during Holi--than on the food. Consequently, there's talk of food but not a real understanding of it. I know that Jaffrey possesses that understanding as an adult, but she keeps it entirely removed from the years of her childhood that are depicted in this book. The last forty pages or so are recipes for some of the things that she discusses in the book, and I guess it's there that the real appreciation and understanding is meant to be conveyed; but as much as I love food and cooking, I'm not going to sit down and read forty pages of recipes, so that was kind of lost on me.
Something else that I found rather lacking in this was a larger sense of what was going on. Jaffrey was in India for the time of both the second World War and India's independence, and yet, except for a few small excerpts such as going to watch Ghandi speak once, a sense of any of this going on is completely absent. This memoir could have place at almost any point in history, because there's nothing there to ground it. Even if Jaffrey didn't pay much attention to those things at the time, I feel like she could have put in a little bit of "looking back" perspective that would have helped to anchor this memoir in that specific era.
Overall, I didn't really enjoy this book. I think that Jaffrey (or her ghostwriter; I'm always so skeptical of memoirs like this) didn't actually have a lot to say because she doesn't really have any compelling experiences behind her, at least not in this particular point of her life. While that makes for a happy childhood, it doesn't really make for an interesting one. It's the old "every happy family is happy in the same way, but every unhappy family is unique" thing, or however the quote goes. The points that stood out at this were the unhappy ones, such as when her parents were so devastated that they had to re-join the bigger family because of her father's job changing, and knowing that it would put an end to the happy independence they'd had for several years. But as for the rest...it's a steady stream of frolicking that I don't think really had much of a larger message or purpose lingering behind it, which made for boring reading. The writing itself isn't bad, but there's not really any compelling content to propel it along.
2 stars out of 5.
This title came to me via the virtual book club over at The Deliberate Reader. I've been following along via the club (which discusses via Facebook) but haven't actually read most of the selections because, well, I've been doing other things. But July's book was The Cuckoo's Calling, which I read earlier this year. I joined in the discussion and had such a good time that I decided to bump the other books up on my priorities list! I won't be reading September's book, which is Hannah Kent's Burial Rites, because I read it a while ago and don't care enough for it to re-read, but I'll spend the rest of this month and next catching up on the other titles for the year that I haven't read, and join back in for October.
Madhur Jaffrey is apparently a chef and an actress, but I had honestly never heard of her until I picked up this book. She grew up in India in the years of WWII and India's independence. Her family lived in a multi-family setup in the area of Delhi. Jaffrey was a fairly privileged child, as far as I can tell. Her father managed various factories, but they could afford private schools and private drivers and could go on vacations in the hill resorts that involved servants packing picnics and renting out multiple houses for the family to stay in. Because of this, I don't think this is a really good example of what "life in India" was like. Granted, it's a memoir, and therefore limited to Jaffrey's view--but I'm also reading another memoir currently, that of Malala Yousafzai, and I think that one does a good job of including not only Malala's experiences but a broader view of how life in her area was in general. I don't think Jaffrey quite managed to do that.
The memoir is very food-focused but not in the way that many food books are. Jaffrey admits to not being interested in cooking until later in life, past the point in time at which this memoir occurs. Why would she have been? Her family had servants to cook for them, and while it seems like the family as a whole was more involved with food for special occasions, Jaffrey focuses more on other aspects of those--for example, the throwing of paint pigments and such during Holi--than on the food. Consequently, there's talk of food but not a real understanding of it. I know that Jaffrey possesses that understanding as an adult, but she keeps it entirely removed from the years of her childhood that are depicted in this book. The last forty pages or so are recipes for some of the things that she discusses in the book, and I guess it's there that the real appreciation and understanding is meant to be conveyed; but as much as I love food and cooking, I'm not going to sit down and read forty pages of recipes, so that was kind of lost on me.
Something else that I found rather lacking in this was a larger sense of what was going on. Jaffrey was in India for the time of both the second World War and India's independence, and yet, except for a few small excerpts such as going to watch Ghandi speak once, a sense of any of this going on is completely absent. This memoir could have place at almost any point in history, because there's nothing there to ground it. Even if Jaffrey didn't pay much attention to those things at the time, I feel like she could have put in a little bit of "looking back" perspective that would have helped to anchor this memoir in that specific era.
Overall, I didn't really enjoy this book. I think that Jaffrey (or her ghostwriter; I'm always so skeptical of memoirs like this) didn't actually have a lot to say because she doesn't really have any compelling experiences behind her, at least not in this particular point of her life. While that makes for a happy childhood, it doesn't really make for an interesting one. It's the old "every happy family is happy in the same way, but every unhappy family is unique" thing, or however the quote goes. The points that stood out at this were the unhappy ones, such as when her parents were so devastated that they had to re-join the bigger family because of her father's job changing, and knowing that it would put an end to the happy independence they'd had for several years. But as for the rest...it's a steady stream of frolicking that I don't think really had much of a larger message or purpose lingering behind it, which made for boring reading. The writing itself isn't bad, but there's not really any compelling content to propel it along.
2 stars out of 5.
November 13, 2021
A very interesting and gastronomically satisfying food memoir.
June 24, 2014
An enjoyable read with some mouth-watering family recipes (or near equivalents) at the back. I only knew Jaffrey from her cooking programmes of the 1980s on the BBC--and her publishers' penchant for re-issuing the same collection of recipes over and over at ten-year intervals, under different titles and with slight differences in illustrations and front matter.
The child of privileged parents of the administrative caste in Delhi, Jaffrey takes us into their world of family compounds, shared meals and festivals, picnics and parties--and food, glorious food. It's interesting that while she enjoyed hanging around in the kitchen and watching it all happen, she never got stuck in and helped out. They had many servants, and yet her mum and aunties did a lot of the cooking to get it all just right. She never seems to have actively participated until after she failed a cooking exam in highschool.
And that's what's missing here. We learn absolutely nothing about her adult life, how she became the Madhur Jaffrey of the cooking shows etc. In fact, as autobiographies go, it's very superficial in spots. Partition is touched upon, but we are given the impression that it didn't have much impact on her family. Oh, yes, they were apprehensive and scared, and one of their neighbours was shot dead (!) but the greatest impact on her little world seems to have been the self-segregation of the girls at her school.
However, Jaffrey freely admits that in her Hindi composition class she romanced instead of writing the serious compositions required, inventing people she admired, inventing "perfect" summer holidays instead of saying "We stayed in town and hung around devastated by the heat" or whatever. So how much of this autobiography was edited, sanitised, or invented? We are made aware of hostile undercurrents in the extended family (Shibudadda's disastrous marriage and cavalier manipulation of the children's loyalties) but she is content to hint and nod and say no more. I'm not saying I wanted all the gory details, but it shows a certain passive aggression on her own part that she brought it up at all, if she wasn't willing to discuss it.
I had hoped to know more about her professional career and move away from India, but the book comes to an abrupt end just as she stands on the brink of adulthood--not rounded but chopped off short. Disappointing.
The child of privileged parents of the administrative caste in Delhi, Jaffrey takes us into their world of family compounds, shared meals and festivals, picnics and parties--and food, glorious food. It's interesting that while she enjoyed hanging around in the kitchen and watching it all happen, she never got stuck in and helped out. They had many servants, and yet her mum and aunties did a lot of the cooking to get it all just right. She never seems to have actively participated until after she failed a cooking exam in highschool.
And that's what's missing here. We learn absolutely nothing about her adult life, how she became the Madhur Jaffrey of the cooking shows etc. In fact, as autobiographies go, it's very superficial in spots. Partition is touched upon, but we are given the impression that it didn't have much impact on her family. Oh, yes, they were apprehensive and scared, and one of their neighbours was shot dead (!) but the greatest impact on her little world seems to have been the self-segregation of the girls at her school.
However, Jaffrey freely admits that in her Hindi composition class she romanced instead of writing the serious compositions required, inventing people she admired, inventing "perfect" summer holidays instead of saying "We stayed in town and hung around devastated by the heat" or whatever. So how much of this autobiography was edited, sanitised, or invented? We are made aware of hostile undercurrents in the extended family (Shibudadda's disastrous marriage and cavalier manipulation of the children's loyalties) but she is content to hint and nod and say no more. I'm not saying I wanted all the gory details, but it shows a certain passive aggression on her own part that she brought it up at all, if she wasn't willing to discuss it.
I had hoped to know more about her professional career and move away from India, but the book comes to an abrupt end just as she stands on the brink of adulthood--not rounded but chopped off short. Disappointing.
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