Things happen for a reason. You spend every waking hour focusing over one thing, and the opposite happens. And with a twist of fate, luck or whatever you wish to call it, this event changes your life.

This week I was to go on an adventure to a remote place, a journey planned for work and pleasure – but something really small made me change my mind at the eleventh hour, and since then, within a matter of hours events unfolded, and so begins a new chapter of my life – I am scared of course; but more about that soon.

No matter what new steps I take, it is always food that reconnects me to a place of calm when I feel daunted; comforts me when I am down, and enhances elation when I am excited. So as I contemplate my new venture, I am reminded of the times that got me here.

Having spent so many years working in a career I did not like, I finally took that bold step to walk away from the seduction of a monthly pay cheque. I had been writing my food blog about Pakistani home cooking, as a mere hobby, for some years when I was approached by a television production company working on a Madhur Jaffrey’s cookery programme. I was to travel for a work trip that I could have done without the week of filming, every thing about my 18 hour desk job was soul destroying, and something just clicked – I decided to cancel the work trip and went to film.

This changed my life, not only was working with Madhur an experience, but the fact that her support and belief led me to write my first cookbook, and also, finally leave my job to persue food writing full time. That step led me a journey of evolution, about the way I celebrate food rather than just create flavour.

Today, I am more aware of sustainability and eating more local, organic and seasonal produce – something I might have taken for granted before. But it is because of my love of home cooking and the celebration of food as family that I have been able to connect to food at a deeper level. With this sentiment, I think back to how my grandmother’s used to cook – so very simply and sensibly. When I think of home I am reminded of some recipes that defined one of the kitchens I learnt to cook in, either my mother’s or one of my grandmothers. This recipe reminds me of my Dadi (paternal grandmother), who cooked the most delicious food, effortlessly for a family of ten, every day, three times a day – using what her garden blessed her with.

The Herald:

Dadijan’s poppyseed and green chilli puri breads:

Ingredients:
2 tbsp white poppy seeds
2 tbsp black poppy seeds
2–3 green chillies
2.5-cm/1-inch piece ginger, peeled
1 tbsp cumin seeds, dry-roasted
before grinding
500g/1lb 2oz/4¼ cups unbleached
wholemeal flour (atta) – you can
buy this in Indian shops
salt, to taste
about 50–60ml/2–2¼ fl oz/ scant ¼–
¼ cup water
2 tbsp ghee
50ml/2 fl oz/scant ¼ cup vegetable
oil, for frying

Method:
1. Soak the poppy seeds in a bowl of water for 24 hours, then drain and put into a small wet grinder or food processor. Add the green chilli, ginger and dry-roasted cumin seeds and grind until smooth.
2. Mix the wholemeal flour and a pinch of salt together in a large bowl. Make a well in the middle and pour in enough water to make a dough. Knead for 3–4 minutes until it forms a soft to firm dough. Add 1 teaspoon ghee, then cover with clingfilm and allow to rest for about 15–30 minutes.
3. Divide the dough into golf ball-sized portions then roll out with a rolling pin to make a small, thick round. Add the poppy seed mixture, bring the sides together and carefully close it up making sure that the mixture can not escape. Roll out again into small, thin 10×10cm/4×4-inch rounds.
4. Heat the oil in a large wok-style pan over a high heat to 180°C/350°F, or until a cube of bread sizzles in 30 seconds, then reduce the heat to medium-low (do this before you roll out the puris, so that the oil is sufficiently hot, then turn down the heat to maintain temperature).
5. Pop the puris, one by one, into the hot oil, pressing the puri down with a ladle into the oil, then quickly turn over and allow to cook well for 2–3 minutes. It’s done when the puri floats to the top and are very pale brown and crispy. Remove the puris with a slotted spoon and drain on kitchen paper. Serve immediately with some natural yoghurt.