Masala Queen

Handwa | Handvo

Some dishes are more than recipes — they are entire childhoods folded into a single bite.

Handwa (or handvo in Gujarati) instantly takes me back to our home in Kisumu. The kitchen filled with the aroma of soaked lentils and rice, grated vegetables, caramelizing onions — and that dramatic tempering of mustard seeds and sesame hitting hot oil before being poured over the batter.

Mama baked hers in a well-loved old pressure cooker, the kind that had earned its seasoning over decades. What emerged was pure magic: a deeply golden crust hugging a soft, savory crumb within.

We cousins would circle the table impatiently, jostling for position, all of us determined to claim the crispiest edge from the side of the pan. There was always a scuffle. Always. Because that crackling crust was everything.

Today, I can liken that prized edge to the tahdig Persians cherish — but for us, it was simply home. Texture, warmth, family, laughter.

Mama first learned the recipe from her Gujarati friends in Kisumu and slowly adapted it to suit our family’s palate. And when I finally recreated it in my own kitchen here in Canada, I knew this humble lentil cake would carry our story forward.

Food binds us. Food remembers. Swipe left on the photographs for the recipe.

FromKenyatoCanada

A bright red Korean paste—gently spicy, lightly sweet, deeply savory, and rich with umami—is truly a gem to have in your pantry. This fermented paste, made with soybeans and glutinous rice, is naturally gluten-free and packed with depth of flavor.

While cooking this Asian-inspired chicken, I couldn’t help but think about the beautiful parallels across global cuisines. Gochujang plays a role much like our Desi masala base, a South Indian podi, North African harissa, Thai curry pastes, chimichurri, miso, or even hawaij and zhoug from Yemen. Different cultures, different ingredients—but the same idea: a bold, foundational paste that builds character in a dish.

I use gochujang often, and each time it delivers its unmistakable signature. Add a splash of coconut milk, and it transforms effortlessly into a luscious, comforting curry—proof that good food knows no borders.

This is my recipe for the Gochujang chicken coconut curry. Please swipe left on the photos for the recipe cards.

Fourteen years have passed, yet her presence still lingers—in the aromas of my kitchen, in the folds of embroidered linens, in the quiet corners of memory that never fade.
Mama was my first teacher, my culinary muse, the quiet elegance behind every beautiful meal. I took her nearness for granted then, not knowing how swiftly time would slip away. Since December 9th, 2011, the years have rushed forward, but her imprint remains still.

Today, I cook for her.
Bhindis and yellowing daal—the comfort she always sought—served with a paratha or a piece of French baguette, just the way she liked it. I once told her the bhindis needed a garnish; she smiled and said, “Add aloo.” Only she could turn simplicity into magic.

Here’s to my mother—
remembered in every flavour,
felt in every meal,
loved beyond measure.

And as if on cue, this morning’s sunrise painted the sky in brilliant shades of orange and gold—like a quiet message from above, reminding me that she’s never too far.

Soft, silky-smooth squares or a comforting crumbled bhurji—paneer truly pairs well with any daal or even a good non-veg curry.
But today, I wanted to enjoy paneer all on its own with fresh rotis, a glass of lassi, and some homemade achaar.

The flavours are simple, elegant, and never fussy. Clean, lightly spiced paneer is my go-to comfort dish.

Swipe left for the recipe. Make it, enjoy it, and don’t forget to tag me—I’d love to see your version