Culinary Chronicles
By Yasmin Rahul Bakshi
Yasmin’s Fernery – A Father’s Indulgence and a Daughter’s Little Dream
More than three decades ago, during a cold October in Mussoorie, my father reluctantly agreed to something he would ordinarily never have considered. He had not changed his mind, he simply did not have the heart to refuse his unwell daughter.
That small indulgence eventually became Yasmin’s Fernery.
My father, an hotelier and real estate investor, had always been an enthusiastic gardener. Our cottage in Mussoorie had a beautiful garden filled with begonias, chrysanthemums, ferns, cacti and many other plants. He spent much of his spare time tending to them and took immense pleasure in watching them flourish.
There was, however, one curious feature of his gardening. Few visitors who admired a plant ever left empty handed. Someone asked for a begonia, another admired a chrysanthemum, while someone else took a liking for a cactus. My father would readily agree and often arrange for the pot to be delivered to their home.
I found that amusing. He was perfectly happy to give away plants that had taken months of care and attention, yet the thought of selling them was an entirely different matter.
One day, I casually suggested, “Papa, why don’t we sell some of these plants?”
He looked at me as though I had proposed something quite improper.
“That is simply not done!”
As an established businessman, he had his own ideas about propriety. Selling plants was not something he considered suitable for the family.
Unfortunately for him, I had already set my heart on the idea.
Mussoorie’s annual Lions Club fete was approaching and I wanted to put up a small stall selling plants from our garden. Ordinarily, the discussion would have ended there. But I was struggling with an illness that doctors at the time were unable to diagnose. There were anxious days at home and perhaps he felt that a little excitement might do me good.
So, somewhat reluctantly, he agreed.
And that was the beginning of Yasmin’s Fernery.
The participation at the fete was heartening. Visitors admired the plants and quite a few were sold. I remember the excitement of that first day almost as clearly as the endless bowls of hot mushroom soup I kept having between attending to customers. In Mussoorie’s chilly October air, the soup was wonderfully comforting. Even now, its taste takes me back to that little stall.
Encouraged by the response, we continued on a modest scale. Soon, locals and visitors from outside Mussoorie began dropping by our cottage to buy plants or simply wander through the garden.
My father had accepted the idea of selling plants by then, but he insisted on one condition.
Everyone who visited had to be offered coffee and cookies.
Whether they bought several plants, a single pot or nothing at all was beside the point. They were guests first and customers later.
Perhaps it was the hotelier in him, or perhaps it was simply his nature. Either way, hospitality became as much a part of the fernery as the plants themselves.
Over the years, the little venture gradually found its way into horticulture, landscape designing and landscaping. Work moved beyond Mussoorie to other parts of India, with opportunities to design and landscape tourist destinations, hotels and a few five star properties. It was a pleasure to see familiar spaces take on a fresh character through gardens, flowering plants and thoughtfully planned greenery.
None of this had been part of a carefully considered business plan. Things simply unfolded, one small step at a time.
Today, when I think of Yasmin’s Fernery, it is not the projects or the places that come to mind first. I remember our cottage garden, visitors leaving with pots of flowers, my father’s initial disapproval, that first Lions Club fete and of course, those endless bowls of mushroom soup.
Most of all, I remember a father who held firm ideas about what was and was not done, yet was willing to set them aside to bring a little happiness into his daughter’s life.
He had never intended to establish a horticultural enterprise. He had merely agreed to let me sell a few plants.
And sometimes, that is how the nicest chapters of our lives begin.
Ingredients:
- Fresh button mushrooms – 400 g
- Butter – 40 g
- Olive oil – 1 tbsp
- Onion, finely chopped – 1 medium
- Garlic, minced – 3 cloves
- Refined flour (maida) – 1 tbsp
- Vegetable stock – 750 ml (can use plain water also)
- Fresh cream – 150 ml
- Fresh thyme – 2 sprigs (optional)
- Bay leaf – 1
- Black pepper, freshly crushed – ½ tsp
- Nutmeg, freshly grated – A pinch
- Salt – To taste
- Fresh parsley, chopped – 1 tsp
Method:
- Clean the mushrooms with a damp cloth and slice thinly. Reserve a few slices for garnishing.
- Heat butter and olive oil in a heavy bottomed saucepan. Add onions and sauté until translucent.
- Add garlic and mushrooms. Cook over medium-high heat until the moisture evaporates and the mushrooms turn lightly golden.
- Stir in the flour and cook for a minute without browning.
- Gradually pour in the stock, stirring continuously to prevent lumps.
- Add thyme and bay leaf. Simmer gently for 12 to 15 minutes.
- Remove the herbs and blend the soup until smooth and velvety.
- Return to low heat. Stir in the cream, black pepper, nutmeg and salt.
- Warm gently without allowing the soup to boil.
- Sauté the reserved mushroom slices in a little butter until golden.
- Serve hot, garnished with sautéed mushrooms, chopped parsley and a light swirl of cream.
(Yasmin Rahul Bakshi is an accomplished senior consultant Chef and a food historian. A widely travelled Army wife from the Mussoorie hills with exposure to international cuisines & preserving recipes with the medium of food photography and digital content creation in the form of stories.)
