Childhood tales

Almost all of my memories of growing up involve food, and just like Pakistani produce, each is seasonal.

I remember helping my Nani (maternal grandmother) tend to her garden in spring, looking after her fragrant motia (jasmine) flowers and picking bhindi (okra) that was full of earthy freshness. By summer, I’d take shelter from the sun under mango trees before climbing them to reach the fruit. As summer ended, balmy monsoon showers brought the chance to lie on the flat roof of my family home, breathing in the smell of damp earth and eating hot pakoras. And mild southern winters meant curling up with my mother under soft woollen blankets while sipping hot cardamom chai. I grew up with a sense of pride in being Pakistani – and the belief that flavour was paramount.