Growing up, I remember seeing huge porcelain jars like these, in which my grandmother and then my mother would make raw mango and lemon pickles for the entire year. In India, you know summer is here when the market is full of raw mangoes of different varieties. As the sun shine with in its full brilliance, terraces in our buildings would soon turn into a foodie haven: as kids, we’d often steal stuff left out to dry… fryums, tamarind, kokam and pickles. No two pickles would taste the same, even though the core ingredients were all the same. That’s what culinary magic and love means, I guess!