Karahi at Home

One thing I know for certain is that there isn’t a blueprint when it comes to engaging with identity and food. We all do it in our own way, we all have different resources that help us forge that connection, and we all have different motivations. When I met my sweet partner, Alex, we had so many conversations about food. His allergies were a big part of who he was and thus how our relationship worked… I subtly convinced him to spend more time with me by making sure he had yummy food each week at Shabbat dinner on campus (where I was going to be every week) and then finally by cooking for him. It’s a miracle he trusted me to take care of him before we had even officially started seeing each other. Our first flirtation was over plates of crispy chicken and garlicky pasta sitting across from each other on big common room couches.

Our relationship to this day holds a special place for food because 1. I love food. 2. He loves food. and 3. Finding, cooking, and eating food is a BIG deal when even peas can get you hospitalized. We do lots of adventuring, lots of trying new things, lots of experimentation in the kitchen. But our biggest feat thus far? We are using food to connect with Alex’s full identity in ways that put his allergies AND his identity together at the forefront of our effort. Embedding mindfulness into our adventure with big and yummy goals. And damn, it’s been delicious.

My favorite approach to adventure with food allergies is to start in your own kitchen. Restaurants take trust. And while, with food freedom, I can easily say I’d pop in anywhere to try something new, that liberty is unique to my own lack of restrictions. So we start at home – namely with some intensive Google research into Pakistani food, its varying regions and many influences. Its major spices and special ingredients. The methods for cooking it best.

Mid pandemic, we began to build our spice cabinet. Green cardamom pods, cumin (whole seeds and ground), coriander (whole seeds and ground), turmeric, paprika, red chili, bay leaves, and fenugreek. This past week we bought our first bottle of Hind. We skip mustard because *allergy*, but by and large we have what we need to make so much good food… exactly as it is intended.

And now, we get to cooking. We started with what has quickly become a household favorite: Chicken Karahi. Garlicky, gingery, tomato-y goodness, perfectly spiced, wonderfully stewed until sweet. Fatima, of Fatima Cooks, has been a guiding light in our process. I found her recipe first, and have come back to it despite the variations I see. I’m learning her methods, trying not to burn my spices, and fighting myself to keep from adding water during the cooking process (a MAJOR no no for this dish). It turns out even more beautifully with every try.

Alex and I cook Karahi together and it’s heartwarming in a new and wonderful way. Our whole house smells like ginger and green chili on these nights (and usually also the next morning too). Alex comes alive like a little kid checking on brownies through the oven window. Karahi has become a part of him in that it melds itself to and nourishes something that was already there. Karahi for the soul. It’s beautiful to watch, and amazing to be a part of.

Last week, as we cooked, Alex remarked that the simmering spices and tomatoes smelled like cigars… or a memory he could only pin with the cigars his grandfather would smoke when he was little and visiting Pakistan. Maybe, at the point where we go in search of food that feeds our identity, we don’t know exactly what those pieces of us are. But when we get to finally take a bite? Chances are they’ll flood right back.

Find our very favorite Karahi recipe, from Fatima Cooks, here!