The khaki kook book — A Reader’s Guide

A Preface of Place and Partnership

The preface grounds the book in a specific time and place: Almora, 'a station far up in the Himalayas,' with 'deodar-covered slopes' and 'glistening peaks of the eternal snows.' Core credits Lilavate Singh for the Hindustani recipes, noting that Singh prepared 'a tiffin of delicious Hindustani food' that sparked the project. Yet Core also admits the recipes have become 'quite Americanized,' and Singh 'might not recognize' them. This tension between origin and adaptation is central to the book's character.

The preface includes a story about an ayah singing 'Ky a ke waste, pet ke waste' ('For why? For stomach?'), which Core interprets as a reductive philosophy of life. The anecdote reveals a colonial perspective even as it celebrates Indian culinary knowledge.

Rice, Nutrition, and Economy

Core devotes considerable attention to rice preparation, describing two methods: the 'cold water process' that yields separate grains but loses nutrients, and a 'rice boiler' method that retains nutrition. She notes that in India, 'every ounce of rice water is carefully saved' for babies, ducks, or curry. This practical observation contrasts with the wastefulness she implies in Western kitchens.

Recipe 53, 'Baby's Pesh-Pash,' is described as 'the first solid food that babies of English or American parents in India are allowed.' Made from mutton broth and rice, it is 'very good for the convalescent.' The recipe explicitly addresses a colonial audience adapting to local ingredients.

Pullao as Festive Centerpiece

Core calls Pullao 'the most festive dish in India,' equating it with roast turkey in American tradition. She notes its role at weddings, feasts, and among 'Hindustani Christians' at Christmas. The recipe for Chicken Pullao involves stewing the fowl with a bag of 'mixed spices,' frying rice with onions, and garnishing with almonds, raisins, and cocoanut. A cheaper version uses 'the cheapest cuts of beef or mutton.'

The instructions emphasize technique: using a rice boiler to avoid sogginess, and retaining the spice bag. Core's tone is instructional but assumes a reader familiar with basic cookery. The inclusion of both chicken and beef/mutton versions suggests adaptation to available resources.

Readers should approach The Khaki Kook Book as a document of its time: a colonial cookbook that both borrows from and domesticates Indian culinary practices. The recipes are practical but filtered through Core's perspective as an American missionary or expatriate in India. The book's value lies not in authenticity but in its record of cultural negotiation—how one woman adapted Hindustani dishes for a Western kitchen while preserving traces of their origin.

Mary Kennedy Core’s Khaki Kook Book always made me think of patience—the slow simmer of a Pullao waiting for hungry soldiers. Beside it on my shelf sits Faster Ways to Favorite Dishes With the New Minute Tapioca — Reading Notes, and I catch them whispering. One teaches waiting, the other hurried ease, yet both share that wartime earnestness, that quiet hope of feeding someone well.