Recipes and heirlooms are stories passed down through generations, carrying love, tradition, and nostalgia. Some gleam in the luster of cherished jewelry, while others, like karbat, come alive in the tang of raw mango and the warmth of jaggery.
When Shveta Salve saw Surmeyi’s mango-inspired jewelry, it wasn’t just an aesthetic connection—it was a memory rekindled. She was reminded of karbat, her childhood mango snack, a simple but cherished summer ritual. The playful act of plucking the greenest mangoes, dicing them carefully, and mixing them with salt, jaggery, and red chili powder held the same care and intention as preserving an heirloom.
Much like jewelry, flavors carry the imprint of those who came before us—a grandmother’s wisdom in gauging the perfect balance of sweet and spice, a mother’s knowing nod when the salt is just right.
We sat down with Shveta to talk about how food, jewelry, and memory intertwine.
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Q: Shveta, you've shared a beautiful story about karbat, a cherished childhood memory. Can you tell us more about what it meant to you growing up?
A: Karbat was never just a snack—it was a whole experience. Summers in Maharashtra meant the scent of mangoes ripening in the heat, and for us kids, the fun started long before the first bite. We’d gather under mango trees, daring each other to pluck the greenest ones. There was a rhythm to it—the plucking, the dicing, the first taste that made you pucker before the jaggery melted into sweetness. It was a lesson in balance—in food and in life.
Q: How do you see this tradition connecting to heirlooms and the idea of passing things down?
A: Heirlooms aren’t just objects; they’re emotions made tangible. Whether it's a grandmother’s gold bangles or a simple recipe for karbat, both hold a history of love and continuity. My mother learned karbat from her mother, and now, every summer, I find myself making it too. It’s about care and respect—knowing that someone before you shaped this and someone after you will inherit it.
Q: Your Instagram post about karbat mentioned nostalgia and even music. How do those elements enhance the experience?
A: Just like jewelry isn’t complete until it's worn, food isn’t complete until it’s shared. And the setting makes it richer—the songs playing in the background, the laughter, the little rituals. Laajun Haasne is a song that instantly takes me back to my mother humming as she mixed in the jaggery. That’s the magic of nostalgia.
Q: What’s one memory of karbat that will always stay with you?
A: One summer, my mother sat with me and taught me how to taste as I mixed—“A little more jaggery, the balance is important.” I didn’t realize it then, but she wasn’t just talking about food. That quiet lesson has stayed with me. And now, every time I taste karbat, I hear her voice.
Q: Do you see yourself passing this tradition down?
A: Absolutely. Just like we inherit jewelry and traditions, we inherit flavors. Our home is surrounded by mango trees, and my daughter loves picking them. Watching her excitement reminds me of my own childhood, and I know these little moments will stay with her, just like they did with me.
