‘Cooking Along the Silk Route’ in Washington, DC

On Saturday, June 22nd, I will be hosting a lunch which is themed ‘Cooking Along the Silk Route‘. As such, we will prepare dishes from Afghanistan, Iran and Pakistan and then share a meal together, family-style, in a beautiful home in the Washington, DC suburbs, (near Tyson’s Galleria).

While we cook together, we will :

  • Learn how to prepare a mocktail, appetiser and main dish. I will provide my homemade dessert for the meal.
  • Prepare and assemble the dishes in groups of 3-4.
  • Enjoy a lovely Saturday chatting and eating with others who adore food from my part of the world!

Sample Menu:
Pakistani Sekenjabeen – Sweet & Sour Sparkling Lime Mocktail with Mint
Afghan Aushak* – Leek pâté dumplings, served atop yoghurt and crowned with savoury mince
Persian Tahchin (see photo above) – Rice timbale with saffron-poached chicken
Pakistani Kheer aur morabba – Rosewater-fragranced rice pudding with seasonal fruit compote

Timing:
10am-1.30pm
Lunch will be served between 1.30 and 2.00pm.

If you would like to join us:
Please e-mail me at shayma (at) thespicespoon (dot) com.

*We are using store-bought wonton wrappers.

My ‘Letter to Pakistan’ in Newsline Magazine Pakistan

I am honoured to have been featured alongside Pakistan’s novelists, barristers, journalists and milkmen for a Cover Story on “Letters to Pakistan” to commemorate our 65th Independence Anniversary. My piece is a nostalgic one, about my childhood in Lahore in my Nani Ami’s; maternal grandmother’s home, near the Canal Bank with the weeping willow trees on the bamboo trees street; bhanson wali sarak.

NB – The magazine accidentally changed my phrase bhanson (bamboos), to bhainson (buffaloes) – which is wrong. 

Shayma Saadat Newsline Magazine

It must be white-hot right now, your sun shining strong above the canals of Lahore, where children come to wade in the brown water to cool themselves off. Summers remind me of siestas in my Nani Ami’s home on the bhanson (bamboos) wali sarak, when all the bedrooms would turn ink-dark by pulling down the bamboo blinds after a long, lazy meal of her spicy ginger-laced chicken stew, scooped up with light-as-air tandoori rotis from nearby Dharampura. I would love to have mangoes from your fertile Punjabi earth, those fragrant chaunsa mangoes, egg- yolk yellow from inside, through which my knife slices like butter, the juices running down my arm with each bite, seated at my grandmother’s dining table. Or maybe one of your anwar ratols or the parrot-green skinned langras, all reminiscent of my childhood in my city of birth, Lahore.Read More