Meals, Mentorship, And The Magic Of Kashmiri Kitchens

By Gowher Bhat

I still remember the smell of onions on my very first day in a kitchen. My hands fumbled, tears pricked my eyes, and I felt unsure.

Chef Abdul Khalif Bhat looked at me and said,“Patience, beta. Cooking is love and practice. You will get there.”

That sentence changed everything. I realized cooking was about care, attention, and respect for those who would eat what I prepared.

From that day, I moved from one kitchen to another, carrying my knives, spices, and dreams.

Fifteen officers' homes, company messes, hostel kitchens. Each had its own rhythm. One officer liked food spicy, another mild. I learned to read tastes like people, listen without words, and understand what a meal could do to someone's day.

Cooking for hundreds in messes and hostels tested me. Every dish had to be perfect, fresh, and consistent. I learned to manage a team, keep spirits high, and work faster than I thought I could.

Every simmering pot, tray of bread, and carefully plated meal became practice in patience, discipline, and humility.

Travel took me outside Kashmir. I cooked on company tours, student trips across India. Students often fell ill from the strange food. I made sure they ate fresh, healthy, and warm meals that felt like home.

One student told me,“Majnoo uncle, you made our trip easy.” I smiled and said,“You focus on the trip. I'll take care of the food.”

It was about comfort, and creating a space where they could be themselves.

I never forgot my teachers. Chef Bhat showed me the basics. Working with different officers and companies taught me that skill alone isn't enough. Cooking is service, care, a way to touch lives. That lesson stayed with me, long after the kitchens emptied.

Now, I teach. I take young people from my village, with no training and guidance, and show them how to chop, sauté, and serve.

“There are opportunities if you are willing to work hard,” I tell them.“Cooking is not just food. It is opportunity.”

I watch them gain confidence, learn discipline, and start to imagine a life beyond the village. Some go on to hotels, hostels, or catering jobs. They carry their dignity, and I feel pride that is deeper than any praise.

People say I've changed lives. My friends and neighbours tell me they see it too:“You transformed yourself, and now you transform others.” I laugh, and I remember: it all began with a single onion and a lesson in patience.

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