I told everyone about my grandmother’s famous parathas or shallow fried, stuffed flatbreads. In my childhood I ate these as breakfast. Post my fruit and green tea deskbound breakfasts in London, mid-day is the earliest I can face these now.

Next morning, the weather was equally rubbish. Half a bag of carrots and 4 small radishes were lying aimlessly in the fridge. And the sack of chappati flour in the cupboard was well by its best by date too.

Fancy that?

My love of kneading is well-documented. I rank it as one of my most hated activities, second only to standing in a blizzard on one leg. But the options were limited. And I didn’t fancy getting soaked again to top up the sorry contents of my fridge.

So I made gajar (carrot) parathas and mooli (radish) parathas for the first time. And I was pleasantly surprised with the results. It didn’t take long. The dough came off my nails fairly easily. And the parathas were as moreish and comforting as my nani’s.

Not just for rainy days then…

Feeds 2:

Carrot filling

• 2 small carrots
• 1 tsp fresh lime juice
• Quarter tsp chilli powder
• Salt to taste

Radish filling

• 4 small radishes
• Quarter inch ginger
• 1 green chilli
• 4 sprigs fresh coriander, chopped
• Salt to taste

Parathas

• 250 gm strong wholemeal or chapatti flour
• 4 tbsp Greek yogurt
• Hot water, as needed
• 1 tsp salt
• 4 tbsp oil

Heat the yogurt in a microwave for 30 seconds until warm. This helps break the four down. You can do this on the cooker also or just use room temperature yogurt. Traditionally, only water is used for kneading but my ageing chapatti flour could use the softening.

In a medium mixing bowl, add the flour and salt. Mix in the yogurt half at a time. Go in with your finger and mix well until the flour resembles biscuit crumbs. You want to keep breaking it down like this when you add the rest of the yogurt. Then add tiny bits of hot water, punching the dough with your knuckles on every side until you get a smooth dough that doesn’t stick to your fingers.

If it sticks to your fingers, you’ve added too much water so just chuck in a bit more flour. This part wasn’t problematic. Now keep kneading or punching the dough backwards and forwards for at least two minutes. The more you beat it, the softer it’ll be later.

Next, cover with a moist cloth (damp kitchen towel in my instance) and keep aside. Next, make the stuffing.

Grate the carrot and mix with the stuffing ingredients. Then cover and microwave or sauté for two minutes. Repeat the process in another bowl with the radish and ginger mix ingredients.

Finally, uncover the dough mix and in your palms shape it into a thick sausage and break into four equal parts. Sprinkle a flat chopping board with extra flour, then roll the dough lump into a ball, flatten and use a rolling pin to create a disc the size of a small tea saucer.

Spoon two teaspoons of the carrot mix into the centre and bring the ends together like a parcel to seal it. Then dip the parcel in the flour, flatten and roll out into a even half centimetre round shape. Don’t worry if the filling starts oozing out. This is the way it’s meant to be.

Now, put a flat tawa or frying pan to heat over a medium flame with the tablespoon of oil. When the oil is sizzling, place the rolled out bread on top and fry for two minutes on either side until dark brown sport appear. If the oil dries up, just add a tiny extra bit to the sides of the paratha.

While it’s cooking, get cracking with the next dough ball and repeat until you have four, devilishly soft, moreishly tasty parathas. Serve hot off the tawa with a large dollop of plain yogurt and some pickle.

Off I went to the dreaded yoga class. Me in gym-friendly spandex amidst a sea of linen cotton.

An hour into the class the Irish sadhu instructor whispered, now you are going to do a shoulder stand. Stretch your legs to the heavens, then gently extend them sideways and take deep breaths.

I lay there twisted into an unrecognisable human tower. The blood rushed to my brain before I could say Dal Makhani. I. Felt. Empowered.

So I decided to master the wonderful world of the blogosphere. I finally worked out how to read all my favourite blogs in one go. This site is now complete with a super recipe index and snazzy food conversion calculators (in the toolbar) thanks to my blog and children’s storytelling supremo Hugh. And then, I found this fantastic resource, Foodari, that allows you to create your own cookbook online.

Feeling rather smug over the weekend, I made a fresh, healthy and blindingly simple Paneer Bhujia or Paneer crumble. Then, tried chappati making with renewed gusto. And finally, plate heaped with brunch, found my inner peace in front of the telly.

PS = It would come as no surprise to learn that I NEVER make my own paneer or Indian cheese. Store bought is fine. I wouldn’t know the difference anyway.

Feeds 2:

• 250 gm Paneer or Indian cheese
• 2 small tomatoes
• 1 small onion
• Quarter tsp turmeric powder
• Half tsp chilli powder
• 1 tsp whole cumin
• 1 large bay leaf
• 4-5 sprigs of fresh coriander
• 2 tbsp oil
• Salt to taste

Chop the onion, tomatoes and paneer into little pieces.

In a small saucepan, heat the oil over a high flame. When it is hot, add the cumin seeds and bay leaf. As they sizzle up, stir in the onions and tomatoes

Fry, stirring well for about five minutes. By this time the onions will be limp and the tomatoes disintegrated. Now mix in the turmeric and chilli powders and fry for another two minutes until the raw smell of the spices go.

Finally, stir in the paneer and mix thoroughly smashing it up with your spoon as you do to get a crumbly mixture. Add salt to taste, fresh coriander and eat hot while the paneer is soft and full of flavour.

I fled from the kitchen screaming “fire, fire” in my best damsel in distress act only to find hubby asleep on the couch mid-way through American Idol.

The next day, I wasn’t in the mood for any incidents. I decided to cook a savoury semolina dish called Upma. Sheer simplicity, this is a typical South Indian breakfast that I ate in the morning, as light lunch and a tea time snack in India.

All it needs is small number of ingredients, a bag of semolina and one non-stick frying pan. What could possibly go wrong?

I started dry roasting the course semolina on the frying pan. It was going brown beautifully, with a gorgeous aroma filling my kitchen. And then I saw little black bits appear. And then, even more.

I’d scraped the non stick coating off!

Luckily for me Upma takes about 20 minutes to make. I started again from scratch (excuse the pun) and the result was light, yummy and incident free. Just as it should be. Serve this spicy mixed pickle or as an interesting alternative to cous cous with a tagine.

Feeds 2:

• 200 gm coarse semolina
• Half inch ginger grated fine
• 1 small onion, chopped fine
• Half tsp turmeric powder
• 2 dry whole red chillies
• 10-15 curry leaves
• 1 tsp mustard seeds
• 1 tsp channa dal
• 2 cups of hot water
• 1.5 tbsp sunflower oil
• Salt to taste

Bring a robust frying pan to heat on a high flame with the semolina. Keep shifting and stirring the semolina around until it goes warm golden evenly. This takes a good 5-7 minutes.

Tip the semolina out of the pan into a serving bowl. Put the pan back on the cooker with the oil and heat over a high flame.

When hot, throw in the mustard seeds, curry leaves and whole red chillies. As they start sizzling, mix in the onion, ginger, turmeric and channa dal. Fry for about two minutes until the onions brown.

Now stir the semolina back in with some salt, add hot water bit by bit until the semolina doubles up into a moist but grainy texture. Serve immediately.

The birthday girl made chicken skewers with a peanut sauce. Open salmon sandwiches. Homemade hummus and aubergine dips. And her half Chinese bf brought a box of the rather unfortunately named Ching-Kee Cookie Rolls.

But it wasn’t enough.

Back at home in the wee hours of the morning, hubby swung his way to the kitchen and started furiously beating an egg. It appeared that he was making good use of the last remaining contents of our fridge – eggs, stale wholemeal bread and green finger chillies.

Unwittingly, he was also recreating a breakfast staple from my Kolkata home – French Toast. Eggs soaked fried bread. The Indian twist provided by green finger chillies and mango pickle.

As I drank my night cap and ate pickle-soaked French Toast, I thought about three things. One, no matter how ill or drunk I am, I always have time for Indian food.

Two, I am so ready for my next holiday. With that, I leave for a long weekend in Italy.

Arrivederci.
Feeds 1:

• 1 medium egg
• 1 tbsp milk
• 2 small green finger chillies, chopped
• 1 stale slice of bread
• Quarter tsp salt
• 1 tsp oil

Beat the egg and mix in the salt, milk and green chillies. Bring the oil to heat on a medium low flame.

Soak the bread in the egg mixture. Don’t use fresh bread because it’ll just fall to bits.

Now shallow fry the egg-soaked bread for about two minutes on either side until the bread feels hard to the touch again.

Eat with mango pickle. Sip a cuppa or your last drink after a long night.

I’ve been out and about, meeting friends for dinners and going to the gym. Home cooked food has mainly consisted of tossed salads and antipasti. Designed as much to be fuss free as low fat.

When a friend came over for dinner, I jumped at the chance of trying my hand at parathas. What’s a few mis-shapen flatbreads between two good friends. (I made rice just in case anyway). Parathas can be made with either plain white flour or wholewheat flour. They are cooked with oil though, unlike rotis.

This time I tried my hand at ajwain parathas. Nani, my bossy maternal gran, made these for us in India. The ajwain gives these otherwise fairly average parathas a slight pungent kick.

I’ve figured that rotis and parathas are only worth the effort when they are the focus of the meal and made in small quantities. I made some kali dal in the pressure cooker and we devoured it all with mango pickle and a few vodkas. Fabulous. Shame there weren’t any left for our split second breakfast before we hit the shops for some serious card bashing.

Hubby is back today. Just in time.

This recipe makes 6 parathas:

1 cup wholewheat or chapatti flour

1 tbsp ghee, melted

3 tsp ajwain or carom seeds

Half tsp salt

Oil, as required

Line the worksurface and floor with old newspaper. In a large mixing bowl, add the flour, the ghee, salt and ajwain seeds.

Add two teaspoons of hot water and mix it into the flour vigorously, incorporating lots of air into the flour. Keep doing this until you get a hard dough that uses all the flour and isn’t sticky.

Now go in with knuckles and knead. First one way, then the other. I counted 10 times before I got bored. Shape the dough into a thick sausage and shape into six balls. Leave them in the mixing bowl, covered with a damp cloth for half an hour.

Heat a teaspoon of oil in a heavy bottomed frying. The heat should be a strong simmer. Lightly flour a flat surface and roll one of the dough balls out into a round shape. You do this by rolling out one side, turning gently clockwise/counter clockwise and repeating until an even round shape appears.

Then you lay it flat on the oil in the pan. When the side facing the oil gets brown spots on it, flip it over and add another teaspoon of oil to the base. It will sizzle all around and underneath the paratha.

The paratha is done when little brown spots appear on both sides and you can fold it with your flat spoon. Now just repeat the process with the other five. I kept them wrapped in a napkin while I was making them so they stayed warm and pliable.

Throw the newspapers when done and enjoy the parathas warm.