Punilrajsinh Solanki

LFC AHMEDABAD
January-June 2026

Punilrajsinh’s relationship with food began in quiet, observant kitchens where meals carried memory and meaning. Trained as a food stylist, he later turned to writing to explore food as culture rather than spectacle. A gourmand at heart, he writes about home cooking, regional practices, and everyday rituals that shape identity, belonging, and time.
How did you first come to be involved with the Local Food Club?

I came to know about Local Food Club through a friend who shares a deep love for food and its culture. When she joined, she felt it would be a fitting space for someone like me, a fellow food connoisseur and gourmand who enjoys thinking about food beyond taste alone. When I explored it myself, it felt less like joining something new and more like arriving somewhere familiar.

What’s your go-to local food spot in your city, and why does it matter to you?

My go-to spot is a small, cozy restaurant called Rasila’s Kitchen. It’s run by a man who cooks in the memory and influence of his grandmother, and that spirit defines the place. Food is the core here. The freshness is unmistakable in every bite, and honesty is the next flavour. There’s no chasing trends. The menu is limited, but every dish stands with confidence. The service is homely, the space simple, even playful, encouraging people to put phones away and spend time together. It’s a place for family, food, and presence, and that’s why it matters to me.

 

One food trend you’re loving right now, and one you’re ready to see less of.
What I’m loving right now is how home cooking is being embraced again. People are filling their pantries, cooking more often, and trying new dishes at home not for reels, but for themselves and their communities. Supper clubs, potlucks, and cooking parties are bringing kitchens back to life across ages and genders. What I’m ready to see less of is food made only to perform, where appearance overtakes care and the kitchen becomes a stage instead of a shared space.

 

What’s something you’ll almost always find in your fridge?

Dahi. Its absence would genuinely unsettle me. I can eat it at any time of the day, on its own or with anything else. It’s comfort, balance, and familiarity in a bowl. If there’s dahi in the fridge, I know things are alright.

 

 What’s an LFC moment or memory that you’ll never forget?  

What stays with me about Local Food Club is how non-judgmental and inclusive it feels. There’s no pressure to impress. It feels like breathing, being open, being honest. Whether someone is sharing a small chutney, a storage tip, or talking about food on a global scale, every voice has space. That freedom to speak and listen is what makes LFC unforgettable for me.

How do you imagine your Local Food Club growing and flourishing over time?

 

I imagine Local Food Club growing into a quiet but meaningful cultural space rather than a loud movement. A place where food becomes a starting point for deeper conversations about memory, identity, sustainability, and care. I’m excited by the idea of exploring forgotten dishes, home kitchens, regional practices, and everyday food rituals that rarely get attention. Over time, I see LFC nurturing a community that values listening as much as speaking, slowness as much as novelty, and connection over performance. If it can keep its honesty and openness intact, its impact will naturally deepen and widen. 

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