We recently had the chance to connect with Shreyasi Kulkarni and have shared our conversation below.
Shreyasi, really appreciate you sharing your stories and insights with us. The world would have so much more understanding and empathy if we all were a bit more open about our stories and how they have helped shaped our journey and worldview. Let’s jump in with a fun one: What is something outside of work that is bringing you joy lately?
Oh….., outside of my day job (where I occasionally use my marketing prowess to convince spreadsheets to behave), my real joy factory is my food blog, Hungry.Palate!
It’s less of a blog and more of a delicious, ongoing science experiment – often with far more successful results than my middle school biology and chemistry classes.
Lately, I’ve been utterly obsessed with a little something called food photography. Now, this isn’t your grandma’s “snap a quick pic of the casserole” kind of photography. This is me, armed with a lens that makes a single cumin seed look like a majestic planet, practically performing surgery on a perfectly plated samosa to capture its crispy, flaky soul. It’s like finding a whole new, utterly fascinating universe within a humble lentil, and let me tell you, those tiny details are demanding.
My phone storage, however, is starting to send me passive-aggressive notifications about “insufficient space.” Clearly, it doesn’t appreciate the artistic pursuit of a perfectly beaded drop of condensation on a glass of chai.
But beyond the microscopic culinary adventures, I’m constantly cooking up new themes for Hungry.Palate on Instagram. It’s not just about pretty pictures; it’s about telling a story, one delicious bite at a time.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
Howdy, fellow flavor adventurers! I’m Shreyasi Kulkarni, a Houstonian by zip code but perpetually dreaming of the vibrant chaos of a Pune street food stall.
My culinary origin story isn’t your typical “chef-in-the-making” tale; it’s a delightful blend of chai wisdom and comfort food magic, all thanks to my incredible grandparents.
My Culinary Boot Camp: Spices, Stories, and Samosas.
My first foray into the culinary world wasn’t with a fancy recipe, but with a humble cup of tea. Picture this: I’m a mere eight-year-old, perched on a step ladder next to the teapot on the kitchen island, mesmerized. My grandfather, a brilliant retired general surgeon with double FRCS from London (so, you know, precision was his thing even with beverages), was my guru. He didn’t just teach me to make tea; he built entire worlds around it. He’d tell me stories of his time abroad, the bustling streets of London, or ancient Indian fables, all while explaining the alchemy of tea powder, the fragrant whisper of cardamom, the bite of ginger, and the exact moment the milk turned it from a mere drink into a soul-soothing elixir. Caffeine, apparently, coursed through my veins from a surprisingly young age, all thanks to Grandpa’s elaborate tea ceremonies.
Then there was my maternal grandma, my beloved “Ajji.” She was, and still is in my memories, the epitome of grace and versatility, with her long, perfectly braided hair and an endless supply of captivating stories for us grandkids. Ajji was my guide to the heart of Indian comfort food: dal and rice. She taught me to distinguish the personalities of various dals – the sunny yellow of toor dal, the earthy green of moong dal, the hearty brown of masoor dal – and how each brought its own unique comfort to a dish. It wasn’t just cooking; it was an education in the very soul of Indian sustenance, simple yet profound. These early lessons, steeped in family love and tradition, planted the seeds for everything I do today.
Hungry.Palate: Your Kitchen’s Swiss Army Knife (and a Photography Obsession): Fast forward a few decades (and a nutrition degree, because knowledge is power, especially when you’re trying to sneak veggies into a samosa), and Hungry.Palate was born! Think of my blog, which you can find deliciously documented on Instagram @hungry.palate, as your kitchen’s personal superhero – a culinary Swiss Army Knife if you will. Need a lightning-fast, healthy weeknight dinner that doesn’t taste like cardboard? I got you. Planning a fancy shindig and want to impress guests without resorting to questionable frozen appetizers? Look no further! And for my fellow Indian food lovers, I’m the proud architect of the “healthy Indian street food makeover.” Yes, you can have your pav bhaji and eat it too, without the guilt trip. It’s about taking those nostalgic, soul-satisfying flavors and giving them a wellness glow-up.
But Hungry.Palate isn’t just my playground for recipe wizardry. Lately, I’ve been utterly obsessed with a little something called macro/themed food photography. So, while others are binging Netflix, I’m getting uncomfortably close to a grain of rice, trying to capture its most flattering angle. I’m talking about performing tiny surgical procedures on chickpeas to get their best side, and getting close enough to a perfectly spiced curry that I can practically count the individual spice particles. It’s like finding a whole new, microscopic universe within a humble lentil, and honestly, it’s both ridiculously challenging and surprisingly rewarding. My phone storage, however, is starting to send me passive-aggressive notifications about “insufficient space.” Clearly, it doesn’t appreciate the artistic pursuit of a perfectly beaded drop of condensation on a glass of chai.
Beyond the microscopic culinary adventures, I’m constantly cooking up new themes for Hungry.Palate on Instagram. From vibrant, appetizing flat lays that pop with color to intimate close-ups that highlight every delectable texture, my goal is to make your screen as drool-worthy as possible. I use bright, natural light and strategic prop styling to create a visual story with every dish, ensuring it’s both elegant and accessible. It’s about blending cultural fusion with an Indian heartbeat, always with an emphasis on freshness and deliciousness.
More Than Just Recipes: A Community of Flavor Fanatics: But ultimately, Hungry.Palate is more than just my personal blog; it’s a buzzing hub for collaboration. I’m constantly linking up with other foodies and brands – sharing ideas, tackling wild recipe challenges, and generally making a delicious ruckus. It’s like a perpetual virtual kitchen party, minus the clean-up (thank goodness!).
My ultimate mission? To inspire and empower every home cook, from the absolute beginner to the seasoned chef, to whip up deliciousness and maybe, just maybe, learn to love their smoke alarm.
Appreciate your sharing that. Let’s talk about your life, growing up and some of topics and learnings around that. What relationship most shaped how you see yourself?
Without a shadow of a doubt, the most profoundly shaping relationships in my life were with my grandparents. They weren’t just family; they were my first culinary instructors, my earliest storytellers, and the quiet architects of my passion for food.
My maternal grandma, my beloved “Ajji,” with her long, braided hair and endless captivating tales, was the epitome of grace and versatility. She introduced me to the pure joy and magic of cooking through the most fundamental and comforting Indian dishes: dal and rice. It wasn’t just about recipes; she taught me to distinguish the very souls of different dals – their colors, textures, and the unique comfort each brought to a meal. Her kitchen was a sanctuary where simple ingredients transformed into heartwarming sustenance, and I learned that true beauty lay in both the process and the sharing.
Then there was my grandfather, a brilliant retired general surgeon with double FRCS from London. While you might expect precision in the operating room, he brought that same meticulousness (and a flair for storytelling!) to the kitchen. He didn’t just teach me to make tea; he turned me into a “chai connoisseur” at the tender age of eight. Perched on the kitchen island, I’d listen as he wove tales of his adventures abroad, explaining the alchemy of tea powder, the fragrant whisper of cardamom, and the precise moment milk perfected the brew. He taught me that even the simplest ritual could be imbued with profound meaning and joy.
Their influences extended far beyond the stovetop. They instilled in me a deep appreciation for tradition, the paramount importance of sharing, and the profound idea that even the most simple things in life can bring immense happiness. They gently nurtured my curiosity and always encouraged me to explore.
Those early experiences in their warm, flavor-filled kitchens truly laid the groundwork for who I am today: a food-obsessed blogger who finds immense joy not just in creating deliciousness, but in sharing it, connecting with others, and honoring the rich culinary heritage they passed down to me.
If you could say one kind thing to your younger self, what would it be?
Oh, little Shreyasi, sitting there by the chai pot, utterly mesmerized by Grandpa’s elaborate stories of London and exotic spices, listen closely: “Don’t panic about perfecting that dal just yet. Your smoke alarm is going to get plenty of practice later, and it’s going to be just fine.”
Seriously, future-you wants you to chill out about culinary perfection. You’re going to learn that sometimes, a recipe calls for a “pinch of salt,” and you’ll interpret that as “the entire shaker.”
You’ll have dishes that resemble abstract art more than actual food, and there will be moments when your kitchen smells suspiciously like a burnt offering to the smoke detector gods. (Pro tip: those things are loud.)
Your amazing Ajji with her perfect braids won’t tell you this, but even the best cooks (and future food bloggers, hint hint!) have their glorious, often hilarious, kitchen catastrophes.
The journey of becoming a food-obsessed blogger is far more delicious and entertaining when you embrace the inevitable spice explosions and the occasional oven-induced panic. So, relax, enjoy that chai, and maybe start saving up for extra batteries for the smoke detector. You’re going to need them, darling.
Trust me, the stories you’ll have from the “oops, that wasn’t supposed to happen” moments will be way funnier and more memorable than any perfectly plated dish.
Now, go forth and embrace the delicious chaos!
I think our readers would appreciate hearing more about your values and what you think matters in life and career, etc. So our next question is along those lines. What’s a cultural value you protect at all costs?
Oh, this one’s easy, and it comes straight from my DNA, lovingly passed down through generations in my Indian family: the joy of sharing and hospitality, especially when it’s centered around a mountain of delicious food.
In India, food isn’t just, well, food. It’s practically a love language, a peace treaty, and a competitive sport all rolled into one.
My childhood in Pune was basically a masterclass in this. My grandma’s kitchen wasn’t just a room; it was the vibrant, beating heart of our home, constantly overflowing with fragrant spices, simmering dals, and enough chai to float a small boat. You simply didn’t let anyone leave hungry, or even slightly peckish. It was practically a cardinal sin.
So, when I see a perfectly good plate of food not being shared, a tiny alarm bell goes off in my soul. I genuinely believe there’s a magical alchemy that happens when people gather around a table.
Differences shrink, laughter multiplies, and strangers become friends over a shared paneer dish. It’s why I still inflict (lovingly, of course!) elaborate dinner parties on my unsuspecting friends here in Katy, Texas. It’s why I’m constantly experimenting with new recipes, not just for the thrill of creation, but for the sheer joy of seeing someone’s eyes light up after a bite.
My food blog, Hungry.Palate, isn’t just a collection of recipes; it’s my digital extension of that very kitchen in Pune. It’s my way of virtually pulling up a chair for everyone, sharing delicious, wholesome recipes, and spreading that very particular brand of food-fueled generosity to a wider community. Because at the end of the day, it’s not just about what’s on the plate; it’s about the connections, the memories, and the absolute, unadulterated joy that comes from saying, “Please, have some more!”
I protect that value with every fiber of my being, and probably with a strategically placed second helping.
Before we go, we’d love to hear your thoughts on some longer-run, legacy type questions. If you retired tomorrow, what would your customers miss most?
Oh, if I were to hang up my apron and trade my spatula for, say, a permanent hammock swaying under a palm tree on the sun-drenched beaches of Gokarna, Karnataka (a girl can dream, right?), I think the culinary cosmos would collectively shed a tear.
Picture it: I’d be trading the sizzle of a pan for the gentle lapping of the Arabian Sea, the aroma of garlic for the scent of frangipani blossoms, and the hustle of recipe development for the serene views of rugged cliffs meeting golden sands. Gokarna isn’t just a place; it’s a spiritual escape, a string of crescent-shaped beaches like Om Beach and Half Moon Beach, where ancient temples meet laid-back shacks, and every sunset paints the sky in hues worthy of a food photo background.
My amazing readers and fellow food fanatics from Hungry.Palate wouldn’t just miss a blog; they’d miss their trusty kitchen sidekick.
First off, they’d undoubtedly bemoan the loss of their “culinary Swiss Army Knife.” I don’t just specialize in one type of cuisine; I’m like that friend who’s always got a solution, no matter what kitchen conundrum you throw at them.
Need a lightning-fast, healthy weeknight meal after a chaotic day of wrangling tiny humans or even tinier spreadsheets? Gone. Craving a show-stopping dish to impress the neighbors (and maybe make them a little jealous) at your next soirée? Poof. My magical ability to conjure up everything from simple sustenance to celebratory feasts would vanish like the last samosa at a party.
But beyond the sheer versatility and creative inspiration, they’d truly miss my infamous healthy Indian street food makeovers. Who else is going to tirelessly work to ensure you can indulge in the glorious flavors of pav bhaji or chaat without immediately needing a nap… or a new waistband? That unique blend of nostalgic comfort and guilt-free indulgence would be sorely missed. It’s a delicate dance between tradition and tummy-friendly, and frankly, I’m pretty good at it.
And finally, I think they’d genuinely miss the sense of community and sheer joy that Hungry.Palate aims to foster. It’s not just about dumping recipes online; it’s about sharing the adventure, the occasional hilarious cooking mishap (my smoke alarm has a fan club), and the unwavering belief that cooking should be fun, accessible, and a reason for connection. They’d miss the laughs, the inspiration, and that reassuring voice reminding them that yes, they can whip up something incredible, even if it takes a few tries (and maybe a fire extinguisher).
My little corner of the internet is a shared kitchen, and without me, it might just get a little too quiet.
Contact Info:
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/hungry.palate?igsh=dXB0aDdyeHo3YW56
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/shreyasi-kulkarni?utm_source=share&utm_campaign=share_via&utm_content=profile&utm_medium=android_app
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/share/1AtKWDaxXD/
- Youtube: https://youtube.com/@hungrypalate?si=nsCKsJqNJqPwJZGN
- Other: Pinterest – https://pin.it/2dnzseeLk
Image Credits
Image Credits – Shreyasi Kulkarni.
