Whenever I share a traditional recipe, I sometimes receive comments questioning the amount of sugar, butter or oil it contains.
“Isn’t that too much sugar?”
“Do you really need that much butter?”
I understand where these questions come from. We live in a time when we’re increasingly conscious of what we eat, how food affects our health and the nutritional value of the ingredients we consume.
But these questions have made me curious about something else.
Why were these recipes prepared this way in the first place? And just because the way we live has evolved, does that mean the recipes we’ve inherited need to change too?
I’m not entirely convinced they do.
A different relationship with food
Previous generations had a relationship with food shaped by the seasons, climate and what the land provided. They learnt to make the most of each harvest, preserve ingredients and adapt their cooking to their environment.
Across cultures, this knowledge became part of culinary traditions. From Sudanese kisra and faseekh to Persian fruit preserves, Korean kimchi, German sauerkraut and Indian pickles, communities developed methods of preparation and preservation suited to their needs.
These traditions offer us a glimpse into how people lived, adapted and made the most of what was available. What began as practical knowledge became part of their cultural identity, passed down through generations.
The science behind traditional wisdom
What fascinates me is how much of this knowledge existed long before science could explain it.
Through generations of observation, people discovered how sugar could preserve fruit, salt and acidity could extend the life of certain foods, and fermentation could transform ingredients.
Today, science helps us understand these processes. We know that salt and sugar, in sufficient concentrations, reduce the water available for microbial growth, while fermentation can produce acids that help preserve food.
Modern research has also renewed interest in the nutritional benefits of certain traditional practices. Fermentation, soaking and sprouting can improve the digestibility and nutrient availability of some foods.
Of course, traditional doesn’t automatically mean healthier or safer. But understanding the science behind these practices gives us a greater appreciation for the knowledge developed through generations of experience.
Sometimes, wisdom begins not in a laboratory, but in a kitchen.
Modernisation doesn’t have to mean replacing tradition
Modernisation has transformed how we produce, preserve and consume food. Refrigeration, advances in food safety and nutritional science have improved our lives and given us more choices than ever before.
But does progress mean that every traditional recipe needs to change?
Today, we often reduce sugar, replace butter or substitute ingredients without considering why they were used in the first place.
Take traditional fruit preserves. My grandmother used generous amounts of sugar, sometimes far more than I would use today. But sugar wasn’t simply there for sweetness. At the right concentration, it also helped preserve the fruit.
Personally, I’d rather enjoy a smaller serving of a traditionally prepared preserve than change the recipe entirely. Not because more sugar is healthier, but because I value the original preparation and the knowledge behind it.
Of course, recipes can evolve to suit modern needs. We understand more about nutrition and have good reasons to make different choices. But changing something doesn’t always mean improving it.
And perhaps we don’t need to measure every traditional dish against what we should eat every day. Some foods belong to particular seasons, celebrations and occasions, and part of their meaning lies in how they’ve always been prepared.
Preserving recipes is preserving history
Perhaps one of the most important reasons to preserve traditional recipes has little to do with nutrition at all.
It’s about documenting our history.
Recipes are more than instructions for preparing food. They offer insight into how people lived, what ingredients were available, how they adapted to their environment and the ways they celebrated, gathered and cared for one another.
Even the proportions and techniques can tell us something about the circumstances in which a dish was prepared. When we change a traditional recipe without understanding its origins, we risk losing some of that knowledge. And while there’s nothing wrong with creating modern interpretations, I believe there’s value in documenting the versions we’ve inherited alongside them.
Not because one is necessarily better, but because each carries a story worth remembering.
When I cook traditional Persian dishes, I often feel that I’m doing something more meaningful than preparing a meal. I’m remembering.
The flavours of my childhood, the women who taught me to cook and the generations who prepared these dishes long before I was born. Even when the people I love are far away, cooking these recipes makes me feel connected to them.
The ingredients, the aromas, the techniques and even those generous spoonfuls of butter are part of what makes a dish familiar. They carry memories of people, places and moments that might otherwise feel distant.
Of course, recipes have always evolved. Even within families, there may never have been one definitive version of a dish. But that makes documenting what we’ve inherited all the more meaningful.
Because every version carries its own history.
And when we take the time to record a recipe as it was taught to us, we preserve something that future generations might otherwise never know.
Perhaps the greatest wisdom traditional kitchens offer us isn’t simply in how they prepared food, but in what their relationship with food can teach us about the way we choose to live today.
We can embrace progress without losing our connection to the past. We can adapt recipes to suit our lives while preserving the knowledge, memories and traditions that shaped them. And perhaps, before deciding what needs to change, we can first take the time to understand what is worth keeping.
A reflection to carry forward
Think of a dish that has been passed down through your family. One whose flavours or aromas immediately take you back to a particular person, place or moment.
What does that recipe tell you about the people who came before you, and what part of their story would you want to preserve for the generations that follow?