Joyce Arora is full of beans. She welcomes you the way only certain mothers do — with an instinctive warmth, a laugh that arrives before the food does, and the kind of unfiltered candour that makes you lean in before you have even taken your seat. Yes, she is actor and entrepreneur Malaika Arora’s mother, a detail that invariably precedes her, but Joyce is very much a personality in her own right: anecdotal, sharp-witted, refreshingly honest about life, and fuelled by a lived generosity that cannot be manufactured. I meet her as she unveils her special Christmas menu for Scarlett House in Mumbai’s Bandra neighbourhood, served until January 1, and within moments it becomes clear that this is more than a festive menu — it is a map of her memory, shaped by the twin histories of where she grew up and where her roots truly lie.
Joyce’s childhood unfolded in Kirkee — or Khadki, as it is officially known — one of Pune’s oldest cantonments, established by the British in the early 19th century after the 1817 Battle of Khadki. Even today, the neighbourhood carries that distinct, slightly time-suspended rhythm: tree-lined avenues; bungalows and barracks softened by gulmohar and rain trees; and Christian families of Goan, Tamil, Malayali, and Anglo-Indian heritage who built tightly woven communities around the parish church. “Kirkee was very close-knit,” Joyce says. “Everyone knew everyone. Sundays meant church, and festivals meant food. There was a sense of belonging you didn’t question.”
Arhaan (centre) with his grandmother, Joyce and Scarlett House chef, Aamir Sohail
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement
But the flavours that shaped her belonged equally to Kerala, where her extended family lived — kitchens scented with coconut oil, curry leaves crackling and fresh masala ground daily. “Those tastes are my roots,” she says. “No matter where I lived, my food always found its way back to Kerala.” Joyce’s father served in the Armed Forces.
Food is where her storytelling glows, especially when it concerns Christmas. Joyce recounts, with the half-amused horror of adulthood, her earliest festive misadventure: the salted beef tongue that made its annual appearance on many Christian tables. “I never enjoyed eating it,” she says frankly, “but my parents adored it.” Soaked for days in brine and stored in a tin on the highest shelf, it was a forbidden object of curiosity. “I was very inquisitive,” she laughs. “One day I dragged the tin down, it spilled everywhere, and I was convinced I’d ruined Christmas. That was my first and last encounter with beef tongue!” The anecdote captures the contradictions of cantonment life — order and mischief, discipline softened by warmth, tradition made human through small domestic accidents.
Head of the Christmas table
Joyce’s Christmas menu for Scarlett House distils decades of such moments. Kalan, Joyce says, “was always there — a thick, comforting Kerala curry of coconut, curd and Kashmiri chilli that signalled Christmas had begun.” Her soup cube pulao, made with stock cubes, mushrooms, broccoli and saffron rice, is “simple, soulful… the calm before the Christmas storm.” The vegetable shepherd’s pie — slow-roasted vegetables under buttery mashed potatoes — is “a warm hug.” Her Malayali buff fry is “deep, rich, slow-roasted beef with toasted coconut,” served with Malabar parotta, while the pork vindaloo is “bold and tangy with vinegar and garlic.” Chorizo pulao is cooked “from memory,” and wine mutton, simmered with mushrooms, potatoes and a full bottle of red, “perfumes the whole home.”
Her grandson Arhaan Khan describes Christmas with a certainty that borders on reverence. “Without a doubt, it’s her pepper chicken,” he says, when asked about the meal Joyce prepares for Christmas, which takes a few days to prep for, including negotiating what can and cannot be procured from her local vendor in the Khar-Bandra area.
Joyce’s spread at Scarlett House
| Photo Credit:
Mitali Vyas
“For me, that is Christmas. The aroma alone tells you the season has begun. It’s one of those dishes no one else should ever attempt because it won’t taste the same, and somehow, it won’t feel right,” says Arhaan. Watching Joyce cook, for him, is as much ritual as the meal itself. “It’s a mix of complete control but we allow it because it means so much for ammamma (grandmother in Malayalam),” he says. “There’s constant movement, instructions flying, music playing — yet everything comes together perfectly. Watching her run the kitchen is a Christmas tradition in itself.”
And like anyone raised in a home where food and affection share the same vocabulary, he recognises how deeply this shaped him. “Food is family,” he says simply. “It’s loud, crazy, warm, generous and full of heart. There’s always too much food, too many people, never enough space — but that’s the magic. You might arrive as guests, but you always leave feeling like family.”
Joyce’s spread at Scarlett House
| Photo Credit:
Mitali Vyas
Joyce’s daughter Malaika Arora remembers Christmas as a sense of festive electricity that settled into the house long before the 25th. “It’s the whole feeling of Christmas that stays with me,” she says. “Putting up our tree, every ornament with a story, the house buzzing with excitement. Friends would come in and never leave without a doggy bag. It was laughter, presents, warmth — something special was just in the air.”
Her mother’s hosting style, she says, shaped her understanding of what a “real” Christmas looks like. “It always started with grace,” she reflects. “Then came the feast — appams and stew, the wine mutton marinated a day ahead, roast chicken, rum cake… it felt like celebration in every bite.” And what about helping in the kitchen? She laughs. “It’s still very much mum’s kitchen, mum’s rules. She knows exactly how she wants everything. I try to help, but mostly, I’m learning. There’s gentle teasing, a lot of giving… it’s its own little tradition.”
Now, with her own family, those traditions continue — lightly adapted but unmistakably Joyce in spirit. “I find myself going back to her blueprint so naturally,” Malaika says. “But I add small touches of my own because life evolves. At its heart, though, it’s still about togetherness, indulgence, laughter, warmth and belonging.”
And perhaps that is the real through line: a childhood in a cantonment where community meant everything; a kitchen where curiosity once toppled a tin of beef tongue; festive tables where Kerala heritage met cantonment culture; and a family for whom Christmas is not a date but a way of being. The Scarlett House menu may be new, but Joyce’s Christmas — abundant, rooted and impossibly warm — has been simmering for generations.
Joyce’s Christmas specials will be served throughout December at Juhu and Bandra; DM @scarletthousebombay for details
