“Your food is only as good as your spices.” That’s a saying I grew up hearing from my Indian mother. So, when I travelled the world for seven-and-a-half months, I packed a clear Ziploc bag of my mum’s homemade garam masala in my suitcase. When the Auckland border security officer asked what happens when it runs out, I replied, “That’s when it’s time to go home!”
Spices are my first port of call when I’m desperate for the comforting tastes that defined my childhood. Growing up in a multigenerational Punjabi household, our kitchen would spring to life each day with the symphony of whole spices spluttering in hot oil, just before an eruption of aromas wafted through our home (and down the street). I remember the sight of my granny’s turmeric-stained hands. She didn’t need measuring spoons or recipes; her fingers moved on instinct, pinching all of her spices from one place: the masala dabba.
There’s a common misconception that Indian food is a “complicated” cuisine that requires too many ingredients and a cupboard full of spices. But that’s not the case. Everything you need can be found in the unassuming dabba that often sits on the counter – a cylindrical stainless steel or brass spice tin that stores your most-used flavour bombs for quick access.
Everything you need for cooking an Indian dish can be found in the unassuming dabba.
It doesn’t matter if you call the box a namak daani, masilyu, masala petti or something else; no Indian kitchen is complete without it. It typically contains seven individual katoris, or small bowls, preloaded with all the essential spices for tadka, or tempering.
To me, the quintessential dabba is the unsung hero of the cooking process; the soul of a dish. As soon as the oil is hot, the basics are on hand, ready to scoop and answer the call. Beyond its practical uses, however, the masala dabba represents so much more to those with South Asian heritage.
Chef Sachin Sebastian, from North Brewing Company in Halifax, began his culinary journey by asking his amma to teach him how to cook when he was 15. “She started by showing me her masala petti and teaching me the names of the spices in it,” he shared. The contents of a dabba often tell a unique story about history, identity, migration and family traditions. For Sebastian, whose grandfather had a green cardamom plantation in Kottayam, Kerala, in India, this ingredient stirs up nostalgia and evokes a strong sense of home.
“Every time the flavour of cardamom hits, I remember the good old days when I helped my grandfather pick the pods,” he said. “I can’t even describe how beautiful the view and aroma of his plantation are.”
Since agricultural practices have helped shape culinary customs, every region of India has a distinctive mix of go-to spices for its foundation, and dabbas reflect this diversity. Transcending borders, they also reconnect Indian immigrants back to their cultural roots.
The dabba took a long journey to reach Saqib Keval, whose ancestors migrated from the Kutch district in the Indian state of Gujarat to East Africa hundreds of years ago. They crossed the Indian Ocean on dhow boats to Yemen and Ethiopia, eventually settling in Mombasa, Kenya. Even though Keval was born in California generations later, that emotional bond continues to deepen.
“Now that I cook professionally, I am even more in love with the dabba,” said Keval, who runs the Mexico City restaurant Masala y Maiz with his wife and co-chef Norma Listman Sanchez. In their dabba, the couple rotates ingredients from Keval’s roots as well as Sanchez’s, who hails from Mexico City. Avocado leaves, epazote (a type of tea leaf) and Mexican chilies live harmoniously alongside tej patta (Indian bay leaves).
Since agricultural practices have helped shape culinary customs, every region of India has a distinctive mix of go-to spices for its foundation and dabbas reflect this diversity.
“The dabba is the efficient, thoughtful and incredibly personal signature of each cook,” says Keval.
I will forever be in awe of how one base forms thousands of unique recipes. For generations, the contents of our dabbas have reflected our family traditions, both new and old. Now that I’m living far from home, I recently bought an heirloom dabba of my own and filled it with the usual suspects of cumin seeds and garam masala, but also organic garlic scape salt from Farmersdotter in B.C.’s Similkameen Valley, and Canadian-grown mustard seeds.
Spice dabbas gently remind us where we came from but also show us who we are becoming. Growing up as a third-culture kid in the diaspora often feels like you’re floating in a cultural abyss, but our dabbas have a way of assuring us we’re Indian enough just as we are. It’s about time that the humble vehicle that has always let our multilayered identities shine got bumped up to sacred status.
Chefs’ most prized spices and flavouring agents
Urad dal (black gram)
Shobna Kannusamy finds urad dal to be a quiet but impactful spice.
My spice dabba hails from Kerala and Andhra Pradesh, with influence from Tamil Nadu. I’m a second-generation Malaysian Indian and these regional roots are woven through my cooking. Urad dal is a South Indian tempering staple, often used alongside mustard seeds, curry leaves and dried chilies. It may not be the first ingredient people think of, but for me, it’s essential – quiet but impactful. It adds a wonderful, mild nuttiness and a bit of crunch that transforms the simplest of vegetables, such as long beans or cabbage. A small spoonful of it, added during the tempering stage, sets the tone of the dish with flavour and texture without overpowering. – Shobna Kannusamy, judge on Food Network Canada’s Wall of Bakers
Malvani Masala
Photograph by Nicole and Bagol; Luis Valdizon/Supplied
I always have this in my spice dabba. It’s like garam masala; it tastes like home to me. It’s bold, smoky and spicy, with heat from dried Byadgi red chilies native to the town of Malvan, and a deep, earthy taste from coriander and cumin. It also has a warm touch from cloves and cinnamon and a slight sweetness from star anise and nutmeg, making it great for coastal Maharashtrian dishes. My favourite dish to make with it is kombadi vade, a Malvani-style chicken curry – my mom would make this every Sunday. On special occasions, she would make a crab curry with it. – Tushar Tondvalkar, chef and owner of the Indian Pantry
Green Cardamom
Green cardamom gives Sachin Sebastian a special dopamine kick, which helps him relax and enjoy every meal.
My favourite whole spice, and something that’s always inside my masala petti, is green cardamom. I use it for everything: I put it in curries, biryani and in desserts like cardamom burfi. Also called “true cardamom,” it gives me a special dopamine kick, which helps me relax and enjoy every meal. When I start my day with a cardamom tea, I feel more energetic and refreshed. It has a lot of health benefits, including better digestion, blood sugar regulation and detoxification. The only problem is that it’s very hard to find good-quality pods these days. – Sachin Sebastian, line cook at North Brewing Company
Kashmiri Chili
Photograph by Nicole and Bagol; Ana Lorenzana/Supplied
When well-sourced and of good quality, Kashmiri chili has the perfect blend of deep colour, milder heat and citrusy floral notes. It’s an incredibly complex and versatile ingredient that allows you to build flavour gradually without overpowering. It is a delicious staple in my dabba and equally finds its way into our household’s desi and Mexican recipes. Norma will sometimes fry them whole and then mix them with the Mexican chilies in a particular type of mole. We also pickle whole Kashmiri chilies in Mexican-style encurtidos. – Saqib Keval, co-chef and co-founder of Masala y Maiz
Pilau Masala
For Neema Syovata, pilau masala is the living embodiment of years of cultural exchange across the Indian Ocean.
If I had to pick a spice mix that captures the complexity of the Kenyan coast, it would be pilau masala. It is a mix that is the living embodiment of years of cultural exchange across the Indian Ocean. It includes cumin, black peppercorns, cloves, green cardamom and cinnamon bark. During the holidays, we’d visit my bibi and be treated to her sumptuous pilau, served on a beautiful platter on a mat called a jamvi. We’d sit under the mango trees in the courtyard – the hot African sun above us, with an occasional gentle breeze – while we delighted our taste buds. – Neema Syovata, food and culture writer, and founder of Modern African Table
Hing (Asafoetida)
Hing spice is a secret weapon in Sherry Mehta’s kitchen.
A secret weapon in my kitchen is hing or asafoetida – it can elevate dishes to another level. It’s that magical ingredient that adds a punch to our beloved Punjabi dishes. Just a pinch can transform dals, curries and veggies. Plus, it’s a digestive superhero, helping tackle the heavy, hearty Punjabi food we all love. It’s perfect for balancing out flavours and making everything more enjoyable. So, whether I’m whipping up a comforting kadhi or a spicy sabzi, I never forget that sprinkle of hing. It’s the heartbeat of our cuisine. – Sherry Mehta, chef and founder of Kanak by Sherry
Xawaash
The smell of xawaash puts Hawa Hassan right back into his mother’s kitchen.
Whether I make it, blend it myself and bottle it, or buy it whole, the smell of xawaash can centre me right in my mother’s kitchen. It’s something that I love. Its components are green cardamom, cumin, turmeric, cinnamon and clove. So, all the spices that I grew up with in one mix. I use xawaash in all of my cooking. I use it for protein and rice; I even use it in my pasta sauce. – Hawa Hassan, chef and author of Setting a Place for Us
These interviews have been edited and condensed for clarity.
