In a world where food is often reduced to trend and technique, Anjula Devi brings it back to what it has always truly been: connection, memory and power.
An Indian chef, author and storyteller at heart, Anjula has built a remarkable career by blending flavour with feeling. Her recipes do more than nourish; they carry the warmth of heritage, the resilience of migration and the confidence of a woman redefining Indian cuisine on her own terms. Through her cookbooks — Authentic Indian Food, Spice for Life, and 15 Minute Indian — she has transformed perceptions of Indian cooking.
What’s more? Her expertise has taken her far beyond the home kitchen. As a consultant chef for Manchester United, Anjula has crafted authentic dishes for one of the world’s most recognised football clubs, while also collaborating with leading retail, electronics and food brands.
Born in Southall to first-generation Indian immigrant parents, and one of eight siblings, Anjula’s culinary journey began at just ten years old, cooking beside her father. But her impact extends beyond food. A passionate educator, she dedicated years to volunteering in primary and special needs schools, a commitment that earned her the honour of becoming a torchbearer at the London 2012 Olympic Games.
Today, Anjula continues to inspire through her healthy, accessible approach to Indian cuisine, reminding us that every dish has a story, and every story has the power to bring people together.
In this interview, we explore how she built a formidable name for herself in a field often trivialised for women within the South Asian community, and how her role as consultant chef for Manchester United is redefining the place of Indian cuisine, and an Indian woman chef, within one of the world’s most iconic kitchens.
Back to the beginning, what first drew you to food and how much of that inspiration came from the women in your family?
I think food found me out of necessity long before it ever became my passion. As the next eldest daughter, the responsibility of feeding my siblings fell to me while my mum and dad were at work. The kitchen became my space in making sure that everyone was fed.
That sense of nurturing was deeply rooted in the women in my family. I grew up watching them cook using no measurements and with minimal fuss. They often had to make something from very little - that has stayed with me.
Cooking is often seen as a domestic duty for South Asian women, yet professional kitchens have historically been male dominated. When did you first see it as a career?
I didn’t grow up thinking ‘I’m going to be a chef.’ It was only later, when people beyond my family began responding positively to my food that I realised what I had been taught had real value. I came to understand that home cooking required skill and technique and carried heritage. I began to see that cooking professionally was giving our food the wider recognition it deserved.
Did you ever feel that your work was taken less seriously because it emerged from a tradition that is often dismissed as “home cooking”?
Occasionally, but I realised that it’s where the real expertise lies - cooking by instinct, balancing flavours without measurements, feeding people with little.
I had to adapt and evolve for that knowledge to be recognised in professional kitchens, but I never changed the core of the food itself.
Becoming a consultant chef for Manchester United, when you first stepped into that kitchen, did you feel you were representing more than yourself perhaps a cuisine, a culture, or a generation of women?
I was very aware that I wasn’t just there as an individual chef. I carried my culture with me, as well as the food I grew up with, and represented the women who taught me to cook. I had a sense of responsibility and purpose. South Asian food hasn’t always been available in spaces like that, but I definitely felt that my food deserved to be there.
How important is it for you to be visible, not just as a chef, but as a South Asian woman occupying space unapologetically.
My view is that visibility isn’t just personal, it’s collective too. As a South Asian woman, I always enjoy being in a professional kitchen – if that challenges long-standing views about who belongs there, that’s good. I hope it says that our knowledge, flavours, and voices deserve to be there on merit.
