For years, Leela Bandaru's life followed a safe, predictable script. She had a stable, promising career in information technology. Her husband, Vihari Gangisetty, worked as a corporate manager and their futures seemed securely mapped out.
Then she decided to drop her IT job to open a food truck.
"Many people did laugh at us," Mrs Bandaru said.
"You are leaving your very good career and then you are starting, you are experimenting something new. But then today, this same experiment has become our identity."
"I started it out of passion, not out of something that, you know, I need to make money," she said.
"When I know something, why don't I share it with others, too? Good food is something that everyone craves."
Now, that high-stakes gamble sits tucked beside a busy Belconnen car wash and opposite the lights of Westfield.
The scent of ghee, toasted lentils and spices drifts out of the small food truck called Amrutham.
It's not the kind of location you'd expect to find some of the city's most quietly beloved south Indian food, but the unglamorous asphalt car park is exactly where the couple chose to build their new dream.
The idea for Amrutham began after they moved from Melbourne to Canberra and noticed something missing.
There were plenty of places to eat, but that specific mix of south Indian street food and home-style dishes she grew up with just wasn't there - at least not in the way she knew it.
At first, people wandered over just to see what was going on.
"There are so many people who just came to just have a look, and they ended up buying something," Mrs Bandaru said.
Amrutham serves food from the Telugu states of south India, a regional culinary tradition that even many south Indian restaurants barely touch.
Where other menus can blur into a familiar roster of dosas and curries, Mrs Bandaru's food tastes like it has been lifted straight from a grandmother's kitchen.
"It's very authentic, homemade, traditional and comforting," she said.
"Growing up, you know, food was always a big part of my family life, and many of the dishes that we serve at the truck today ... are flavours that I actually grew up with."
Nothing captures that more than podi - the spiced powder that anchors so much of Telugu eating.
At Amrutham, it appears on Ghee Podi Idli and podi-topped Dosa, and in the small containers customers take home. For Leela, podi isn't just a garnish; it's the emotional beginning of every meal.
"Usually all the Telugu families in south India ... whenever someone starts their lunch or their dinner, the first bite that they have with the rice is, they put in the hot rice, they put the ghee and one spoon of podi," Mrs Bandaru said.
"That is what we used to start our day ... the first bite ... it's with podi. The podi actually ... enhances our taste buds."
Her personal favourite is a rather revealing choice. "The bitter gourd one ... it is a little bit bitter. It's actually very good," she said, laughing.
Alongside it, the shop sells peanut, mint and coriander podis, all made at home without preservatives, after realising customers preferred them to supermarket versions.
That subtle confidence extends to how they run the business.
"We don't do too much marketing. I always believe that when the food is good, it just spreads automatically," Mrs Bandaru said.
Even the name Amrutham is loaded with memory. For many Telugu speakers it recalls a much-loved late '90s TV series, but for Mrs Bandaru it signals what she hopes people will feel when they step up to the window.
"When someone eats at Amrutham, I want them to be reminded of the flavours they grew up with ... the dosa from the local tiffin centre, or the chutney their grandmother or their mother used to make," Mrs Bandaru said.
"Our goal is not just to serve the meal, but to create a sense of nostalgia and comfort. If a customer takes just one bite and they say, 'This tastes exactly like what I used to eat back in India,' that's the biggest compliment we can receive."
That deep dedication to providing comfort has been tested by harsh economic realities. Fuel price spikes and inflation have hit independent operations across the city hard.
"Like every other small business, we have definitely felt the impact of the high fuel prices ... even the ingredients have also gone up," she said.
Still, Amrutham has defiantly refused to raise its prices, treating the menu almost as a gift of resilience to their community.
"We always believe that south Indian food should be accessible to everyone," Mrs Bandaru said.
"We don't want to pass on every cost ... directly to our customers. At the same time we are also not compromising on the quality."
From their small window beside the car wash, the couple serves far more than crisp dosas and fragrant podis.
They serve the feeling of being, for a moment, back at a familiar table - the one that was left behind, and the one being stubbornly rebuilt in Canberra, one nostalgic bite at a time.
