Deepika Nandal, an India-based food writer, reached out to North Carolina chef and musician, Cheetie Kumar, to glean her perspective on memories, fear, and taking risks. Kumar was also kind enough to share her Indian spiced black-eyed pea recipe.
Story by Deepika Nandal | Photos by Kate Medley
“Our kitchen in India involved two people: my grandmother and my mum. While my grandmother was from a state in central India, my mother belonged to a place that is now in Pakistan. So, their cooking styles were different,” Cheetie Kumar tells me from her kitchen, busy with preparations for the “heat and eat” meal kits for Garland, her restaurant in Raleigh, North Carolina.
I was talking to her from a dimly lit room in Surat in West India. I had recently left my Mumbai home with my husband and baby, just before the lockdown, and temporarily shifted to my mother’s place. There, I didn’t have much to do, and the boredom made me start an interview series with celebrated chefs. I was looking for interesting names; borders didn’t matter, food did. Kumar stood out. Not many women in India go down the path of music and switch to food as a career preference. I wanted to know more about her journey and her grit.
kumar in a school play in india, age 6
Kumar was born to Indian parents in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, but her family had to move back to India when she was 6 months old. “My mom decided that she didn’t feel good about staying here. She felt guilty that she had abandoned her family,” Kumar tells me. “And in that momentary lapse of commitment … they didn’t apply for a visa extension, then she changed her mind but it was too late.” For eight years, the family lived in Chandigarh, a city in the northern part of India. Kumar says her home in Raleigh has a close resemblance to Chandigarh, the city of her childhood memories.
Indian food imprinted on Kumar as she watched her paternal grandmother work all day in the kitchen preparing Kadhi (made with buttermilk and chickpea flour), chaas (a drink made from raw milk sprinkled with sugar), and mooli paratha (a flatbread with radish filling). Her mum’s karela (dry bitter gourd curry) was another favorite. “I don’t know if any other child loved it as much as I did.”
Her family left India when she was 8 years old and moved to Wayne Avenue in the Bronx. Kumar often found herself digging through cookbooks and staring at pictures of rock stars in magazines and album covers. “We used to go to these book sales at the public library in New York and get a book for a nickel,” Kumar recalls. “Once, I got this huge book of New York Times recipes, and then there were Madhur Jaffrey recipes.”
In the summer of 1986, Kumar’s mother went to India for five weeks. She left 12-year-old Kumar in charge of cooking for her dad and little brother, while her sister was in medical school.
“In those days, you couldn’t make international calls easily. I couldn’t speak to my mom for ratios or recipes. She had left me some notes, and there were dishes that we had practiced together before she flew to India,” Kumar says. She made rajma (red beans) and baingan bharta (eggplant curry), and the family loved them both. She started cooking Indian comfort food like dal tadka (lentils tempered separately with ghee and spices) and experimented more with pan-Asian dishes like stir-fries. Looking back, Kumar says, “That summer gave me my first boost of confidence.”
At home, Kumar’s mother was often silent. “I don’t know what she thought about,” Kumar says, “but she was always kind of meditating.”
Kumar’s mother, Adarsh, was 9 years old when her family boarded a train that was going from Lahore, a capital city in Pakistan, to Amritsar, in India, during the India-Pakistan partition in 1947. The train was attacked during the journey, and she witnessed her parents’ murders. The train never made it to Amritsar. Instead, young Adarsh and her siblings were taken to Delhi.
“We never spoke about it at home,” Kumar says.
When Adarsh began cooking, her imagination helped her reach closer to the flavors and aromas that her mom created in her Lahore kitchen. “She had this ability to figure it out. She was fearless and couldn’t be stopped,” Kumar says. “I think she passed down that understanding of food to me genetically.”
Kumar and her mother tasting chutney in the kitchen at garland in Raleigh, N.C.
Kumar says her mother was into “magical thinking,” a practice that probably helped her grieve and heal from her past. “The power of a memory or the power of somebody who is no more with you can become a guiding force in your life for years,” Kumar says.
Kumar tells me that being in the kitchen is like being closer to her mother who died in 2016. Be it through her mother’s food jar labels that she saved, or an apron that had her mother’s writing imprinted on it, or by pickling lemons with her mum’s recipe.
“When I think of my mum, I see her over the stove with a pot and a knife in her hand, cutting something directly into the pot. I can conjure that memory in less than a second. I always think about her rajma [red beans] and her keema [mutton],” Kumar says. “I share the same habit I have about her that she had about her mother.”
Kumar’s father helped her fall in love with the Beatles, when she was in Chandigarh. “He read a lot. He is the only sibling in his family to get the level of education that he did. He worked hard and was always attracted to new and different things. I believe I got that spirit of working hard from him,” says Kumar.
She found herself falling hard for The Cars, Devo, Talking Heads, the Pretenders, Blondie, and The Cure as a kid in New York. Exploring “weirder” rock music helped her cope with the challenging phase of settling in a new country and her mom’s silences.
“For me, music crosses between meditation and fantasy. It transports you to a different place,” Kumar says.
During college, Kumar got a chance to work at a recording studio. “I just love the creative energy of a studio,” she tells me. “Recording music was almost like cooking, and the studio was kind of like a kitchen, where people came with different ideas.”
Kumar at a recording session at the fidelitorium
Kumar went on to become a lead member of The Cherry Valence and Birds of Avalon. In both bands, she was with her best friend, Paul Siler, who is now her husband and business partner.
Her mother thought her touring might come to an end after one year. “How are you going to live?” she asked her in a worried tone.
“She let me explore the hard lifestyle. She always had this perspective that I would figure it out, find my own way through it,” Kumar says.
“Touring the country allowed me to explore America deeply, from the small towns to the center of the country. We spent thousands of nights playing music at places that covered Europe as well,” Kumar says. She was one of the lead guitarists, but she never really wanted to be in the spotlight. “I’m a nerd who likes the integrity behind the craft more than showing off.”
During these 10 intense years of touring, Kumar seized every opportunity to cook. “It sounds glamorous, but it’s hard. Drive every day, go to a new city, unload your van, play the show, pack it up, leave for the next day’s performance. You had to be good at your craft in front of people every night. Besides,” she recalls, “there were hardly any women among the bands that toured together, and I kind of got sick of it.”
Cooking offered her a calm hum in the chaos. She cooked at unplanned spots: an open fire, or a random kitchen, with whatever was on hand. “One plus side was that the guys were always appreciative,” she adds. “It wouldn’t be anything elaborate. Anything warm and comfortable would be it for me.”
Kumar’s husband was looking for a new location for his rock club that he co-owned with two friends when people started encouraging Kumar to start her own restaurant. “I didn’t think about it as big or serious — what we eventually ended up with,” she says. “I just closed my eyes and jumped at the opportunity.”
And that’s how, in December 2013, Garland opened its doors.
Kumar with Paul Siler, her husband, bandmate, and business partner.
As a chef, Kumar swears by chutneys and pickles made with veggies and seafood and loves a touch of puffed grains (be it rice or sorghum) as a garnish in her savories and desserts. “For me, it’s about the North Carolina ingredients, given an Indian or Asian twist,” she says. Her love for Indian street food is evident in the many chat variations she creates with seasonal produce: watermelon and peanut, local field pea, potato, beet-peanut-orange, or sweet potato.
Kumar always has soundtracks streaming in her kitchen of artists and bands like David Bowie, Led Zeppelin, and LCD Soundsystem. “I feel like the songs played in my kitchen try to send me messages,” Kumar says. “The song lyrics kind of tend to loop themselves in my head. Oftentimes it’s my subconscious tapping into some process or perspective that I should maybe follow. Largely, playing music in the kitchen helps me to just be happy.”
“But, what makes you so fearless in achieving what you have in life?” I ask her.
“It’s interesting that you say that I’m fearless because I’m usually pretty fearful. And I think that fear really leads to paralysis,” she tells me. “I have been kind of paralyzed by depression at many points in my life; struggled with it almost my whole life. And I don’t think I could have done anything that was expected of me without the power of a good therapist.”
As a creative being, Kumar believes in tackling her fears and working hard at composing songs or developing recipes, instead of getting stuck with self-doubt. “Fear is your biggest enemy, and fear is the enemy of creativity. If you know in your gut you want to do it, just do it. Work extremely hard, don’t give up, and you’ll get better. Dreaming doesn’t make you better,” she advises. “Doing makes you better.”
Kumar in her restaurant, Garland. “There is so much power in feeding people,” Kumar says, “who you buy your ingredients from, how you bring the culture in the kitchen, how you treat your staff — all of these things matter more than the award or the nominations.”
In 2017, four years after the restaurant’s launch, Kumar went on to receive a James Beard Foundation Award nomination. 2020 marked her fourth nomination, and she was also shortlisted as one of the finalists for the Best Chef: Southeast.
But that’s not what drives her.
“It would be a lie to say it’s not a good feeling. It’s like a little magical affirmation that you have made the right choice. But that’s not the fuel, the thing that makes me want to be better. There is so much power in feeding people, who you buy your ingredients from, how you bring the culture in the kitchen, how you treat your staff — all of these things matter more than the award or the nominations. You open a restaurant because you want to cook, and then you realize, this is not just about cooking, this is so much more,” Kumar says. “The restaurant business isn't profitable at all; a little bit of mismanagement can cost you a livelihood.”
And yet, as an untrained Indian chef, Kumar sometimes faces hurdles that are beyond her control.
“The biggest challenge has been the notion that Indian immigrants are not supposed to be chefs. Indian immigrants are supposed to be doctors,” Kumar says. “This is not a career in a lot of people’s eyes. Now, however, I feel so much more powerful than I would have if I had done something that I was expected to do.”
Some of her favorite people to cook with include Jason Stanhope in Charleston, South Carolina, Alex Raij in New York, Rebecca Wilcomb and Kelly Fields in New Orleans, Lisa Donovan in Nashville, Tennessee, Ashley Christensen in Raleigh (they cook together a lot as friends), as well as fellow South Asian chefs and friends, Maneet Chauhan in Nashville, Meherwan Irani in Asheville, North Carolina, and Vishwesh Bhatt in Oxford, Mississippi.
“I cherish the times when I can be in a different kitchen with a chef that I admire. You don’t think it would make such a big difference, but you end up exchanging great ideas, and it’s the friendships that are more rewarding than things like fame — what is that anyway? Fame is so fleeting; I have been thinking differently since my mother’s demise. What you think about at the end of your life is not going to be about the Instagram followers and it’s not going to be about the articles. It’s going to be about the memories you have with people, and that becomes my guiding force,” Kumar says.
Kumar (center) with the Garland team that cooked at the James Beard House.
The pandemic has brought a lot of uncertainty, especially for restaurant owners. “This [past] year has been riddled with big challenges. I have a lot of self-doubt,” she says. “I’m not immune to getting defeated and feeling really down. There’s no choice but to keep moving.”
“You kind of become hooked to it. The stress is bad, but as soon as you come in, the energy of the kitchen and the service drives you ahead.” Her voice breaks recalling the pre-pandemic days of the restaurant, when she worked 12 to 14 hours a day, wearing multiple hats as chef and co-owner. “I’m getting emotional because I really miss the restaurant. Providing somebody a memory; they may not remember any date or anything, but they have a sense of what it’s like to be here. Surprising people is very energizing.”
Mid-May onwards, Kumar and her husband began to work on new plans for their restaurant, starting with ready-to-eat meal kits. By mid-September, they had converted the restaurant’s outdoor sidewalk into an eating area with the necessary safety measures.
“It’s such a weird time,” she says. “We have a building with a rock club, a bar, and a restaurant. And even the restaurant can survive a little while on what we’re doing right now. As a restaurant, we have to continuously invest in staff, and even if it’s a profitable business, there is insurance and rent to be paid. Without the volume of the business that we are used to, without any federal help, it’s hard to envision what will unfold in the future.”
But even during this pandemic, Kumar keeps finding ways to keep her love for her craft alive by working constantly and not giving up.
“Just put one foot in front of the other. Learn from experience and find a way to manage self-doubt. Exercise and rest when you can,” says Kumar. “Banish guilt.”
My mum made it in India, and it’s a Southern staple here in the U.S. There’s an interesting parallel as its a melding of both traditions.
— Cheetie Kumar
A bubbling pot of black-eyed peas is said to bring good luck for the new year. Cheetie Kumar added the flavors of North India to this classic Southern dish with solid African roots. The ginger, garlic, and onions can help boost immunity.
Serves 4-6
3/4 pound dried black-eyed peas (or 2 pounds fresh/ fresh frozen)
1/4 cup peeled and minced fresh ginger root, divided
2 1/2 cups chopped onions, divided
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons ghee (or 4 tablespoons olive oil)
1 teaspoon whole cumin seeds
1 cup chopped carrots
3/4 cup chopped celery
1 tablespoon minced green cayenne pepper or jalapeno (or 1 teaspoon Thai chili or serrano)
4 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 1/2 tablespoons freshly ground coriander
1 tablespoon tomato paste
1/2 cup white wine
1 1/2 cups pureed good quality whole canned tomatoes — in the summer, use fresh peeled Roma tomatoes
Kosher salt to taste
1 lemon, juiced
Serve with steamed rice, sour cream, chopped cilantro (or parsley), and scallions
If using dried peas, soak in plenty of water overnight or for at least six hours, refrigerated. Peas will expand in volume so be sure to use a larger container than you think they will need. *Skip this part if using fresh or frozen peas
Drain all the water and place peas in a heavy bottomed pot
Add 3/4 cup of the chopped onions and 1 tablespoon of minced ginger
Cover peas with 2-3 inches of water and cook over medium heat with NO SALT, uncovered for about 40 minutes till tender. (Note: Fresh or frozen peas will cook faster.)
Stir occasionally. When the peas are just about done, season generously with kosher salt until the cooking liquid is well seasoned. Finish cooking and let peas rest in water for 15-20 minutes. (Note: If peas are too soupy for your liking, strain out some cooking liquid till there is just enough liquid to cover.)
Keep warm if finishing the recipe (this part can be done in advance. If doing so, let the beans cool and store in the refrigerator for 1-2 days. Reheat when ready to finish.)
In a separate, non-reactive wide skillet, heat up the olive oil and ghee (if using) till shimmering but not smoking.
Add the cumin seeds and as soon as they start sizzling, add the carrots, celery, green chili, and the remaining onions and ginger. Season with salt, and cook over medium high heat till onions turn translucent.
Add the garlic and sauté until the vegetables are almost soft and nothing smells raw. Push everything to one side and add ground coriander (add a little more fat if pan is dry). Toast for a few seconds and add the tomato paste directly on top of the coriander. Smash together with the back of a spoon and cook for a minute or two.
Fold into vegetable mixture and deglaze with white wine. Cook the alcohol off (about 3-4 minutes) and add the pureed tomatoes. Simmer over low-medium heat till tomatoes no longer taste raw.
Pour this whole mixture into the warmed cooked peas, stir and simmer for 10-15 minutes.
Add salt to taste and finish with lemon juice.
Serve over rice with a dollop of sour cream, cilantro, and chopped scallions
Deepika Nandal is a Mumbai-based freelance journalist. In India, her writing has been published in The Hindu, Reader’s Digest, Conde Nast Traveller, Better Homes and Gardens, Firstpost, etc. Her food blog, Taste Memory, is inspired by her mother’s traditional Rajasthani recipes.
Kate Medley is a documentarian, doing storytelling and digital communication for good causes, companies, and campaigns. In her more than 10 years of work with Whole Foods Market and the Southern Foodways Alliance, Medley has established herself as a leader in storytelling about sustainable food systems and the culture of food.
