By Panchali Illankoon 

How do our food experts cook & eat? This week, chef Sudeera – the man behind the famous Lost Flavours of Ceylon series, takes our Q&A!

What was your earliest memory of cooking that made you realise you wanted to be a chef?
It was during Sri Lankan New Year. The entire village would come together to cook, and they would follow my grandmother’s recipes, women prepping the simpler stuff, like moju, achchaaru, ambul thiyal. Meanwhile, the men handled the labour-intensive Kiriya and Dodol. We kids weren’t supposed to taste anything until the celebrations began... but our aunts couldn’t resist sneaking us spoonfuls of Kavum. That sense of love and community? That’s when I knew—this is what I want to do.

Tell us about your journey to becoming a chef?
I started at the very bottom, not knowing how to hold a knife properly. I was a kitchen helper in hole-in-the-wall eateries across my village and nearby towns, peeling onions until my eyes stung and scrubbing pots the size of satellite dishes. But even then, I was mesmerised by the cooks working beside me.

Eventually, I scraped enough together to join hotel school while juggling a part-time job flipping burgers at a fast-food joint. Glamorous? No. Character-building? Absolutely. Then came the UAE: hot kitchens, long shifts, and my first real taste of a professional brigade. I took every course I could afford, signed up for extra training sessions on my days off, and basically lived in my chef whites.

What was a turning point in your career?
One of the biggest turning points was working under Chef Abu Halab, a larger-than-life figure who specialises in Middle Eastern cuisine. Watching him give interviews on TV and perform in front of countless cameras made me realise that food could tell stories, stir emotions, and even spark movements.

When I returned to Sri Lanka, I landed opportunities with some of the big names in the food industry. Then, Australia called. I packed my knives and moved once again—this time as a chef and consultant, helping restaurants in multiple countries refine their menus. It’s been a wild journey with burnt fingers and lost sleep, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

You are known for your documentary series ‘The Lost Flavours of Ceylon’ – how did it come about?
Back in 2018, I was working in a restaurant in Embilipitiya, where I stumbled upon ancient Sri Lankan recipes that people had forgotten. That sparked something in me. Later, I met Saagie Navaratnam, who asked me to help develop the menus for his star-class hotel. He saw my passion and funded my research, which took me deep into ancient Sri Lankan cuisine.

I started travelling. And when I say travelling, I mean visiting over 2,000 villages across the country, including coastal communities to forest-dwelling indigenous tribes. I interviewed over 5,000 elders who told me stories of recipes from their great-grandparents. As a part of my research, I also studied archaeological findings, interviewed top historians, and explored millennia-old culinary manuscripts.

Your personal favourite “ Lost Flavour of Ceylon”?
Thakkadi! (Also called chagguli) It’s basically an ancient Ceylonese version of pasta. One way to describe it would be doughy rice flour dumplings tossed in spiced meat or veggie gravy. Every community has its own twist; some do it vegetarian, some go heavy on the mutton, and others incorporate seafood.

You travel all over Sri Lanka for this documentary – what was the most unique experience so far?
Two come to mind. First, spending time with Sri Lanka’s indigenous people. They hunt and forage, cook fresh, and eat on the spot. Their simplicity and connection to nature are humbling. Second would be Jaffna. It’s like time travel. The cooking traditions there haven’t changed in generations. They still use ancestral methods and ingredients. It’s beautiful and deeply rooted.

What was your favourite childhood meal? 
Pani kaun. Kavum into a pot of kithul treacle and leave it there for a week. The Kavum soak up all that syrupy goodness until they’re sticky, rich, and succulent. Yes, I still make it. Yes, I eat too much of it. No regrets.

How would you describe your cooking style as a chef?
A Sri Lankan fusion. I use ancient Sri Lankan ingredients and techniques, then give them a little modern edge. Think clay pot meets induction stove.

What’s a dish that’s a Chef Sudeera special? 
Banana-leaf-wrapped rice and curry. I keep the curries slightly dry and tempered so they last longer, just like our grandparents used to do. And the banana leaf adds this deep, earthy aroma that mixes with the spices and other ingredients to create a flavour you just can’t get any other way.

What’s the trick to getting Sri Lankan food right?
Sri Lankan cuisine evolved on the island, despite numerous foreign influences. Start with fresh, native ingredients, whether it’s from the sea or deep jungles, and use traditional cooking methods. Sambol made with a miris gala tastes wildly different from the blender version. The texture, the flavour—it all matters.

What’s a traditional Sri Lankan cooking style or trick you wish you can bring back to modern cooking?
Pahaluma. It is basically Sri Lanka’s own ancient barbecue. One type, Ul Pahaluma, grills meat over open coals in a way that drains excess fat while keeping the meat juicy. It’s healthier, tastier, and deserves a comeback in modern kitchens.

Your favourite recipe that has been passed down to you from family?
Kalu Dhodhol. My dad was the dhodhol king. He had a secret recipe handed down through generations. I’ve mastered it myself, but I still think his version had a bit more magic in it.

If you can travel anywhere on earth on a culinary experience, where would you go?
France. No second thoughts. French cuisine is the perfect fusion of tradition and modernity. I’d love to study how they pulled that off, since it is exactly the revolution I’m working towards with Sri Lankan food.