I could go on about my saviour, the simple daal – The ultimate non-stodgy comfort food that I reach out to each time I feel blue or homesick.

I look back at moments in my life where I sought out this humble bowl full of loving care and I don’t quite recall why I needed it, just that I felt better with the first mouthful.

Possibly because nothing compares to the places this simple flavour and texture takes me. One reminiscent of home, safety and smiles of loved ones.

My clearest most revisited memory would be the one of entering my Dadi’s (paternal grandmother) home on Sundays.

The edible experience began long before I walked into her kitchen. It was a sensory and sensual one from the moment I stepped through her main gate; the night bursting with the intoxicating pungent scent of fresh currypatta (curry leaves) abundant on the sole tree along her garden path, the waft of green spiciness of chillis and freshly cut lemony coriander.

I’d enter the house and be hit by the air heavy with earthy smokiness of freshly cooked chapatti’s from the kitchen. Through the door of the kitchen I would be greeted by five aunts and a grandmother all effortlessly creating a wholesome meal for the family table.

There was bhindi, korma, chapattis, basmati rice and daal – always daal.

I would sample everything, spicy, aromatic, laden with layers of flavours of spice – which to me is the the true taste of Pakistani cooking alone ...

However, I was always drawn to the plainly simple yellow daal, sitting there in a patili (stainless steel cooking pot), making no apologies for its sloppy demeanour – its plain comforting earthy essence was yet to come alive with a hot hit of bhagar with garlic, cumin and red chillis in ghee.

All this work was bringing it to life and transferring its shy yellowness to glistening pride, speaking of flavour, grace, comfort and nurturing – knowing its place being one of a blank canvas of homeliness.

The meal was ready to be served when the daal was ready – everyone was at the table ready to relish this lavish meal even with the simplest of dishes. It was the love and dedication it was made with that made it rich.

One freshness no table at my Dadi’s was without were fresh long green unforgivingly hot chillis by the dozens. They were consumed with each bite of food and no one was ever excused from trying them.

All I remember well is that each time I would only eat green chilli with daal and chapattis! An acquired taste to say the least, but one that I crave always.

A true taste of family and home and comfort for me will always be a daal, roti aur hari mirch ka navala (a morsel of all daal, bread and green chillis).

A trio of daals with a tempering of red chilli, cumin and garlic

Enough to feed a family
Takes 25 minutes to prepare and cook

50 grams Masoor daal
50 grams Maash daal (Urid daal)
50 grams Moong daal
1/2 tsp turmeric
1 clove of garlic, sliced thinly
Salt to taste

For the tempering/bhagar:
2 tsp ghee or vegetable oil mixed with 1 tsp butter
1 tsp cumin
1 clove of garlic, thinly sliced
2-3 dried red chillis
3-4 curry leaves, fresh (optional)

Garnish with:
Chopped coriander
Chopped green chillis
A pinch of garam masala
A handful of fried crispy red onions

Method:
1. Mix all the daals together, wash them and drain. Heat enough water to cover the daals in a saucepan and add 1 sliced garlic, turmeric and mix well. Boil for 12-15 or so on medium heat until daal is cooked though. Keep stirring to avoid it sticking to the pan and add more water if it dries up quickly. Using the back of a spoon, mash up the daal after it is cooked. Pour into a serving dish.
2. Once cooked, add the salt to taste. In a small frying pan or tarka pan, heat the ghee or oil and butter. Once hot, add the cumin, allow to splutter. Next add the garlic and let it brown slightly, add the red chillis for a few seconds and lastly the curry leaves for just a second. 
Pour over the daal immediately. Garnish and eat hot with bread or rice as an accompaniment or by itself.