Spiced Glazed Carrots in the Pakistani Manner

Mughal Emperor Akbar the Great was a mere thirteen years of age when he ascended the throne. While still a relatively young Emperor, he commissioned the construction of a new capital, known as Fatehpur Sikri. The buildings, a fusion of Islamic, Hindu and Jain architecture, reflect the Great Emperor’s beliefs of universal religious tolerance. It was under his rule that the Islamic jizya tax was revoked for non-Muslims and a new faith called the Din-i-Ilahi (Faith of the Divine) was created by him in an attempt to bring the diverse religions of the Mughal Empire together. To this day, only 18 people are said to have belonged to this faith, but one cannot help but admire Emperor Akbar for trying to unify his peoples. [Read more...]

Spicy Baked Eggs

Breakfast in a Pakistani Home

Halwa puri!,” Baba and Kaka (father’s elder brother in Dari) would holler from the bottom of the stairwell in our family home in Lahore. [Read more...]

Wordless Wednesday

Wonders of Pakistan Part VII: Having a challi -corn on the cob grilled over coal embers- from the roadside in Karachi, January 2010.

Roasted Beet ‘Carpaccio’ in the Persian Manner: Borani-e-Labu

“A monarch, regardless of being a queen or a king, must defend his or her land and treat the people with justice,” declared the Sassanian Empress Porandokht, (AD 630-31). An advocate of sexual egalitarianism, she was the first female monarch to rule over the Sassanian Empire. Under her 16-month rule, before she died, Empress Porandokht signed a peace treaty with the Byzantines and reformed her empire by re-structuring and lowering taxes.

Every era has had their crop of strong women, and Mader, my paternal grandmother, was most certainly one from hers. [Read more...]

Wordless Wednesday

Wonders of Pakistan Part VI: Buying ribbons to adorn kurtas and dupattas, in Liberty Market, Lahore, December 2009.

A Cookbook-less Chocolate Cake with Fleur de Sel Ganache

Ami’s recipes are scribbled on small pieces of paper. Soft pages which crumple in your hands; torn out from my elementary school ‘exercise books’ in Lagos, Nigeria. Another scribbled on the back of a Pan Am ticket sleeve. Or maybe on an index card, in her friend Liz’s cursive handwriting. The curly kind of writing your Third Grade teacher used to have. Liz, the first friend my mother made after moving to the United States as a young bride. The mother of my first boyfriend, at age 3. [Read more...]