When I think about making ghee, my memories begin with sitting beside Dadi in the sun. During our school holidays, we would visit our grandparents in Himachal. There, in the verandah, Dadi would sit making butter, and we would settle down next to her. I can still remember the sound coming from inside the matki as she worked. That steady, back-and-forth rhythm was such an ordinary part of those visits. At the time, I had no idea how much I would miss it one day. Sometimes, she would let us have a turn.
For us, it was something exciting to try. For her, it was familiar work, done with the ease of someone who had repeated it countless times. We were happy simply to sit beside her, watch, and wait for a taste.
Waiting for the butter
Every so often, Dadi would pause and check inside the matki to see how the butter was coming along. That small action has stayed with me. She kept returning to it, watching its progress and knowing when it needed a little more time. And then we would get some fresh butter to taste. I remember its taste and texture even now. Sometimes we ate it with sugar, which made the whole experience even more special to us as children.
I have tasted plenty of butter since then, but I still haven’t found that same taste and texture. Perhaps part of what I remember belongs to those holidays too: the sunshine in the verandah, sitting close to Dadi, and being allowed to join in. But the butter itself remains a very clear memory.
The ghee we grew up eating
The butter would later be heated into ghee on a wood-fired chulha. I loved that ghee. I grew up enjoying it and taking its presence in our kitchen for granted. We never had to buy it, so I rarely thought about what it would feel like to live somewhere without our own supply. That changed when I moved outside Himachal. Buying ghee became something I had to do, and I began searching for the taste I knew. I missed the flavour I had grown up with, and I missed knowing the hands and the process behind it.
Something that had always been part of everyday life suddenly felt precious.
Where bilona fits into this memory
Today, the word bilona is often used to describe the traditional process in which milk is set into curd, the curd is churned to separate butter, and that butter is heated to make ghee. It is a useful way to explain the broad process. My own connection to it, though, comes from watching Dadi work.
I remember the vessel, the movement, the sound, and the way she checked it in between. I remember being handed a little butter to taste. Those details matter to me because they hold the human side of the process. Behind a familiar word on a jar are household routines, local names, and skills passed from one generation to another.
Our family’s experience is one small part of that wider heritage.
Bringing that memory to Baglat Farms
Those memories are part of what we want to carry forward through Baglat Farms. We want to make ghee that brings people closer to the taste of home I have missed: ghee made with attention to the process and respect for the people who taught us to value it. Some things naturally change. Although I remember the flavour of ghee made on Dadi’s wood-fired chulha with affection, I would choose a different way of heating it today. For me, carrying a tradition forward also means making thoughtful choices about how we practise it now.
What I hope to preserve is the care: paying attention as the butter forms, checking its progress, and giving the making of ghee the time it needs. I cannot promise to recreate every part of a childhood memory. Even for me, that taste is tied to a particular person and place. But it gives us something meaningful to work towards at Baglat Farms. Each batch connects us to something I grew up loving, and to the hope that someone else might find a familiar taste in it too. I still think about those afternoons in the verandah.
Dadi beside us. The sun. The sound inside the matki. And a little fresh butter with sugar.
Did someone in your family make butter this way? I would love to know what you called the vessel, and what you remember most. Share it with us on Instagram.