Two years ago I started therapy. It was prompted by an attack on my way home on a busy central London road. It triggered a latent PTSD and anxiety left behind from a previous attack on another busy suburban London street as a teenager.
I pride myself on being resilient, seeing it as my strongest quality. However, what I discovered in therapy was that my perception of my own resilience was masking deep bruises from the trauma of my attacks, and preventing my true self from being out in the open.
My therapist encouraged me to do all the activities I found calming and creative. It was many years ago in a sun-soaked Seville kitchen where I discovered my creative calmness: making meals for family and friends using local, seasonal ingredients. So I got cooking, making elaborate meals with themes, inviting friends over for lunches every weekend.
There was a biryani feast with all the trimmings, a Persian one where the saffron rice - tahdig - turned out just crispy and aromatic. I started making pasties again. Having trained as a French pastry chef in my early 20s I had quickly abandoned it because I lacked the perfectionist discipline, and the buttery and sugar-rich content had professional conflicts as a dentist and nutritional therapist. The process of cooking and baking began to soothe my anxious thoughts, the ones that made me relive the feeling of losing control associated with attacks.
As I eased into the creative experiment - as I called it - my friends and family recognised this talent and urged me to share my recipes that combined local seasonal British ingredients with techniques learned in pastry school using spices and flavors from my eastern Pakistani heritage. So I committed to one recipe a week on my website. It allowed me to be free from my mind for the first time in my adult life. I used my anxiety as fuel for flavours in my kitchen. The results were delicious – but then the pandemic hit.
I was forced to get back inside my mind. Being a healthcare worker I didn’t have the luxury of staying home. I was on the front line and in those early days last year, it was an out-of-body experience I have yet to make sense of. I sobbed on my way to work whenever I saw rainbows in the windows (which was often). I chastised myself for being selfish in the face of uncertainty because what I was mourning was the loss of freedom from my mind. A year's worth of working on myself all gone in a flash.
Like everyone else, I took to the kitchen except this time I was not allowed to share table lunch gatherings of friends. I persevered just the same. I would come home from work ready to switch off in the kitchen. This was back in the days of stockpiling, I would go to empty supermarkets so my creativity had to step up a notch with the leftover I could forage on the produce aisle. My mind exploded with ideas, I wrote these ideas down, I drew them, and I would walk to and from work thinking about ten different ways to cook cabbage. I shared these ideas online. People responded positively.
I started therapy again, remotely and this time I explored my past through food. I unravelled and went back to events in my childhood spent in Ireland where the dishes featured local produce such as root and cruciferous vegetables cooked with spices and fenugreek. Back to early adulthood university years spent in Hungary feasting on potluck dinners featuring dishes from around the world, with interludes to my grandmother’s place in Pakistan where the courtyard tandoor was the focal point of her home used to roast vegetables and make bread. Cooking my food memories, writing about them, and sharing them with the world brought on a new kind of inner peace and a community on a small corner of the Internet.
The tastes and stories locked in the cells of my mind came undone, taking on a new force of healing. One I couldn’t even imagine a year ago. All this began when I decided at the beginning of 2019 to break away from the scars of my attacks and to actively work on healing by going to therapy. It took me on an unexpected journey of discovering the magic that occurs in my kitchen and from the words within my soul.
Below I share recipes for galettes. A sweet and savoury. Through lockdown 1.0, in my grief of a past life, I became a woman possessed with perfecting pastries. While everyone else baked banana bread and sourdough, I obsessed over the temperature of the butter to get my galettes flaky without tearing. In retrospect, these are the perfect metaphor for my life; these French pastries have local ingredients flavoured with spices familiar to Pakistani cooking.
For the crust:
80 g plain flour plus extra for dusting
35 g wholemeal flour
½ tsp sugar
Pinch of salt
½ tsp crushed black pepper
115 g butter cold
Handful of finely chopped thyme, rosemary and oregano leaves
60 ml ice cold water
For the filling:
1 Aubergine sliced
1 Courgette sliced
2 Plum tomatoes sliced
1 can of chickpeas
2 cloves garlic crushed
1 tbsp tomato purée
½ tbsp crushed chilli
½ tsp cumin powder
½ tsp of cinnamon powder
3 tbsp olive oil plus a little extra for drizzling
Seasoning to taste
50 g of feta crumbled
Handful of chopped thyme
An egg beaten for the wash
Method:
Preheat oven to 180 degrees
Pastry:
Filling:
For the pastry:
85 grams of cold butter cubed
120 grams of plain flour
¼ cup of ice-cold water
1 tsp ground cardamom
1 tsp cinnamon
For the filling:
500grams of fruit
¼ cup sugar (more if the fruit are tart and less if its sweet)
1 tbsp ground almonds
1 tbsp flour
To finish:
Egg for the egg wash
Sesame seeds
Icing sugar
Method:
Pastry:
For the filling and to fill:
To bake and finish: