Khanyisa Malabi speaks to us about her cookbook 'Khanyisa, A Culinary Storyteller'

I was named by my grandmother, my name meaning “luminosity”, lighting the lives of those who share my life and cross my path.

In my world, I like how food collides with the written word to produce books that offer families around the world the gift of my culinary story. Creativity in the kitchen shores up my soul. My approach to food is deeper, but accessible and simple.

My publishing journey started as something based on my childhood and a particular Christmas I vividly recall, when my parents hosted a Christmas Eve family get-together. I wrote about it and sent my manuscript to an editor for an honest opinion. She said: “It was a lovely nostalgic Christmas piece, but would you consider building on the concept by being nostalgic, yes, and traditional, yes, BUT epicurean too — in one book?”

And so began my book project, it took a good two years. Just the writing. I poured my heart into the making of this book. There are times when you wake up and don’t feel like writing — then you find inspiration. And during the production, the visual part that took a good six months, I had the luxury of spending all that time in Cape Town working on the creative side of the book. 

The creative team had to be patient with me because I’m not just a book creator; I want to be there every step of the way because you know that recipe of biscuits had to be exactly how I messaged it. And I think the team wanted me to behave and sit in my corner and just approve. No, no, not me, that was impossible! That said, I’m so grateful they were patient with me and allowed me to say: “OK, I know I trust you, but you’ve got to allow my creative input too.”

The team and I debated every step of the way. They would come up with images of, for example, some auntie wearing slippers wrapped in a towel or holding a chicken that was bleeding and I would say: “OK team, that’s not my story. The point (of the publication) is my story and how I grew up.”

In putting the publication together, one becomes so candid in one's writing — and yes, I was very candid, and in this environment I was so vulnerable too. Yes, I was “sitting” in my story, but I was also trying to hold back. I was writing a book in which I wanted certain things to remain a mystery so, in reading it, it flows and excites one's imagination.

My style is eclectic, with a touch of tradition for complexity, depending on how I feel. I’m known to look back at family traditions for inspiration to serve a soulful centrepiece at my table, but I also like to surprise my guests with occasional street food. I think the choice of many stories and recipes was inspired by my mother.

In some of my recipes I’ve turned tradition on its head, exposing the two sides of me. There are the grandparents from my mother’s side; I think they were more sophisticated than the family on my father’s side, but my greatest influence comes from my father’s side. My grandmother, Kokwani, who was born and raised in Mozambique, knew how to work with her hands and stayed healthy by eating and snacking on food from her own supply chain at home. Kokwani was a traditional healer, good at mixing herbs for ailments. She was the matriarch of the family and what I learnt from her was that the matriarch does not in any way suggest the absence of a man; it’s just a woman with authority leading the family. Interestingly enough, I must have been about six years old when she passed on, yet she made such an impression on me.

My mother used to joke that her side of the family were better cooks than my father’s side, and to an extent that was true. My mother always taught us to be humble, yet we were empowered by her.

Her cooking was semi-modern. My mother was good with her roasts, like a Cornish chicken served with vegetables cooked to perfection, and all the aunts cooked in the same way. It was very important for my mother for us, her children, not to feel that we were any way different or special in the community, so we never felt that in any way. She was really humble, making sure that when you visited an auntie you went with a tin of cookies. A unique soul she was.

We are that family, that when we eat lunch we are already talking about dinner. When my son Muako was young — he must have been about two or three years old — and his aunts and I were discussing the menu, he’d say don’t forget the potato salad. There are images of him as a young child peeling potatoes. Growing up,  he loves being handy about the house and yes, Muako is the apple of my eye. He recently turned 18. He now calls himself my “father figure”.

When it comes to preparing a quick meal, if I really want to please myself or someone else, it will be the plate of my life, literally three ingredients — pasta, olive oil and truffles. Simple to put together to impress. The flavours tick all my boxes.

My favourite kitchen utensil? A simple wooden spoon!