Cooking without borders: Cuisine from Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran & beyond.
Salted caramels from Trader Joe’s and saffron strands from Yekta were always packed into my suitcase for my trip back home to Rome. And when I was really lucky, I’d get to take back a blueberry-banana bread loaf made by Aunty Shelly and a cranberry walnut loaf by Aunty Sabiha, my Ami’s dearest friends. [Read more...]
I was interviewed by EGO Magazine. You can read the article here.
My Ami’s brother, my eldest Mamoo, always takes me straight to Rahat Bakery after I land at the airport in Lahore in the winter. During my summer visits all one wants to do is go straight home and languish in the air-conditioned room, whilst slicing into the plump flesh of a mango. But in December, when Lahore is in its element and all you need is a mere shawl twirled around your silhouette to keep you warm, we stop for treats at the bakery. [Read more...]
Bon Bons in Lahore
Mini Market in Gulberg was less than a kilometre away from our family home. On hot summer nights, after dinner, we would walk to the market with my parents, cousins- Saadiya & Ashi, my uncle- Kaka Tarik and my aunt- Aunty Shahla. With 10 rupees to call our own, Saadiya, Ashi and I would buy a Polka mango flavour ice cream, the kind you eat out of the cup with the tiny wooden spatula. Then we’d move on to buy Mitchell’s bon bon sweeties from the nearby kiosk to add more sugar to the mix. [Read more...]
Mirza Ghasemi
We kicked off our snow-covered boots and entered my friend B’s parents’ home through the side entrance. Our feet found their way onto the rose pink carpet from Tabriz, intricately woven, just like the delicately embroidered shawls my Ami wears. [Read more...]
Recipe created by my dear friend BH and myself. BH adores spelt flour and has shown me how to incorporate it in my repertoire.
I could never understand why we didn’t eat Uncle Ben’s rice at home; the kind that Mrs. Ferris, my friend Sarah’s mum boiled in its own bag and served us alongside roast chicken. Each grain was plum and served slightly watery.
Why did we have to have basmati rice all the time? Sometimes laced with cumin and sometimes cooked in a cinnamon, cloves and cardamom-infused chicken stock. [Read more...]
Happy 2011
Washington DC is the city where I arrived as a 2-year old from Lahore with my parents. My Baba tells me that it was raining the day we landed at Dulles Airport. We drove along the Potomac river in a chauffeured car which was sent by the organisation my father was to work for, towards the Dutch Inn, a boutique hotel located in Washington’s famous Georgetown. Baba still remembers those humid evenings in Georgetown as he carried me on his shoulders along cobblestoned paths amidst the students, in a new, foreign country. [Read more...]
An array of Turkish cheeses, fresh plump tomatoes, crunchy cucumbers, an assortment of olives, sucuk (lamb sausage), tomatoes grilled with Turkish cheese, fresh thick yoghurt topped with a fruit coulis. A perfect breakfast in Istanbul with my husband.
I am featured on my favourite website this morning- The Kitchn. Click here.
Zain, my husband and I never go out for brunch on weekends — because Saturday and Sunday are the two days when he gets deep into the kitchen and prepares all sorts of omelettes for us. [Read more...]
I remember when I first moved to Rome, I used to lie on a weekly basis. At least for the first two months. [Read more...]
