A family recipe is rarely only about ingredients. It carries the habits of a kitchen, the timing of a season, and the voice of the person who taught it. That is why I like to write recipes with a little room around them, so the story can stay intact.
In South Indian homes, a dish often changes from one grandmother to the next. The spice level shifts, the coconut is grated finer, or the tempering comes at the very end. Those differences are not mistakes; they are the recipe's living history.
When you cook from a story, you are also cooking with context. You learn why a dish appears at a festival, what it meant on a long bus journey, or how it fed a family on a tight day. That context makes the recipe easier to remember and more meaningful to make.