This recipe was originally posted on the Pakistan Eats blog on March 3, 2018. I recently updated the recipe after further testing it.
There is a recurring joke among expat Pakistanis that when you come back home, you never return as an adult. You are still the teenager that left the country 10, 20 years ago.
It’s how I felt when I came to Islamabad in January to spend time with family. While I travel to Pakistan frequently for work, the trips are short, stressful and insular. This time I wanted to take a break, and give myself space to think, write and hopefully reconcile my mixed feelings for my hometown, Islamabad.
I always feel guilty for saying it but I hate it. I have thought a lot about the reasons why, and I considered listing them all here. But I won’t. Right now I’m more interested in reflecting on the emerging role of my generation (“Millennials”), how we are positioning ourselves vis-à-vis our elders and the institutions they control, and negotiating for space and power in the world.
The reason I bring this in relation to my feelings about Islamabad is that one of the primary reasons I resent it is because I never felt like it was mine. I have an incredibly rich ecosystem in the city (which I'm very grateful for), but in so many ways, my relationship with the city has largely been defined, and therefore, limited by it.
Both my grandfathers were bureaucrats. So my parents grew up here, went to college here, met here, married here. So did the majority of my extensive network of aunts and uncles. Together they became leading activists, lawyers, development professionals, architects, educators, journalists. In the process, they shaped the world around their children, around me. Their successes became our successes. Their failures became our failures. Their prejudices became our prejudices. And soon enough, it seemed like that their choices would become our choices.
It was one of the main reasons I was keen to leave, and did at the first opportunity I got. However, whenever I do return, I always experience a sudden but familiar dip in confidence. Outside the tight confines of my job, I suddenly lose the ability to speak authoritatively, scout locations, talk to strangers, drive, write and even, cook.
This hints at how easy it can be for an environment to quietly wrest agency away from you if you are not paying attention.
While I would shrug this feeling off as a temporary side effect of being in the homeland, it’s a serious problem when you realize you too are one of the grown-ups in the room. Do I give up simply because I "left"?
I have been thinking a lot about the last part since the death of Pakistan’s leading human rights activist, Asma Jahangir. Her death has left a giant void in Pakistan - there is nobody of her stature, her fearlessness that can take her place. Who from my generation can and will follow in her footsteps?
Doing so requires us to be brave, take risks, and make a conscious choice to step outside the parameters set by elders, class and institutions. And contrary to what a lot of people have told me, I do think the young Pakistani diaspora has a role to play, within our families and our larger communities.
So as feeble as it sounds, I began to take small steps to find my feet inside Pakistan. I began to drive again. I attended a political event after ten years. I began to work on my first food story from here (which is actually really hard. Props to Pakistani female reporters here, they don’t have it easy). And I stepped inside my mother’s kitchen for the first time, refusing to be discouraged by the daunting standards Pakistani home cooks set for themselves.
During my first week, I decided to start small and baked Smitten Kitchen’s chocolate olive oil cake for my aunt’s birthday. It’s a simple cake that I have made at least half a dozen times. It’s impossible to botch up and of course, it was a disaster. The pan I chose was too small. The oven was not hot enough. The flour was temperamental. And so, the cake oozed out of the pan; and crumbled at the first touch.
But I didn’t give up.
The next week, I made Come Con Ella’s chicken hara masala - boneless chicken simmered in a blend of yogurt, cream, cilantro and mint - and fared better.
I grew bolder, and made cholay, my own recipe, the week after (side note: got some good feedback from my mom and have updated the recipe accordingly). While the chickpeas bubbled in a thick, spicy blend of tomatoes, onions and spices, I whipped up gujarati aloo, an old favorite, to serve on the side. To complete the meal, my cooks fried some Dawn parathas; and my mother showed me how to make sujji ka halwa, semolina flour browned on low heat and infused with sugar syrup.
While the spread was heavy on the calories, it was delicious from start to finish. But more importantly, it felt like that it was mine and my mother's in equal measure.
Here’s to taking small steps to make way for big ones.
Suji Ka Halwa (Semolina Pudding)
Ingredients
- ½ cup ghee or oil
- 6 pods of cardamom cracked
- 1 cup suji semolina flour, available in specialty Indian/Pakistani grocery stores
- 1 cup granulated sugar
- 2 tablespoon blanched almonds
Instructions
- In a saucepan, bring 4 cups of water to a boil. Add sugar and stir until it has dissolved. Remove from heat.
- In a heavy bottomed saucepan, heat ghee or oil. Add cracked cardamom. Fry on low heat till fragrant for about a minute.
- Add suji (semolina flour) and roast it on low heat for 8-10 minutes till it begins to puff up. Keep an eye on the color since the time will vary depending on the type of saucepan you are using and whether you are using ghee or neutral oil. Ghee has a higher smoke point so it will take a longer time to roast.
- Once the suji has turned an even golden brown, turn the heat off and add sugar syrup. Turn heat back up and stir well for 5 minutes till the mixture thickens and you get a nice silky texture.
- Add sliced almonds and stir till well-mixed. Remove from heat.
Notes
mehrunnisa
mj, i am glad you fared well with the hara masala chicken. it is one my mama's favourites. there are some very interesting thoughts in your writings. i always find it interesting to hear about the experiences and happenings that make us who we become. the wanting to leave is something that i have heard so many young pakistani's talk about it. it always broke my heart to hear about it because that had never been my experience. islamabad is by no means an easy place but then neither are other places. i feel that the places we live in always require reconciliation. i know that gender is more stark in pakistan and i am yet to make up my mind about how i feel about it being overtly challenging (as in there) or covertly challenging (as in the west). i think as a the next generation we also have to find who our heroes will be. the asma j's of this generation will be different. there is much shapeshifting happening - i will leave you with the small example of some of the female celebrities who spoke about their personal experience of sexual abuse in the aftermath of the zainab case. i doubt we will have a single person like asma j again but she inspired so many to do small things that together become a critical mass. enjoy the rest of your trip!
Maryam Jillani
It's a great recipe! Many thanks to you for sharing it. I agree that each city has its own challenges and it's an issue of reconciliation. Many of my friends here have been able to get a lot more out of this city despite being bound by the same constraints - something I greatly respect them for. Of course, they also made a commitment to stay and do the hard work. It's a little presumptuous of me to think I would get similar results in a few weeks. Great point about how the Asmas of this generation will be different. I think another great example is the young Pakhtuns organizing to fight for the rights of FATA: https://www.aljazeera.com/indepth/features/pakistan-youth-seek-justice-mehsud-naqeebullah-180206104522328.html.
A great deal to think about 🙂
mehrunnisa
as they say in britain, keep calm calm and soldier on.
Azka
MJ,
I feel so much of the same when I return home. I feel as awkward as a teenager, so unsure of myself and my footing. I get insecure, and irritable, and sad. And yet I return year after year, because hidden amongst all those feelings is also the warmth of being back at my parents home and absolved of many ‘responsibilities’, showing my kids the foods frying in the markets and the dyer sipping the dupattas in vats of boiling chemicals, and falling back into familiarity.
I have yet to reconcile my two lives. While I am working hard and growing into the person I want(ed) to become in my life in the U.S, by a lot of metrics back in Pakistan I’m a big fat has-been and I don’t know why, but this not-measuring-up bothers me endlessly. I don’t feel like I deserve to critique or contribute there in any way. The guilt of ‘selling out’ is crippling. Maybe one day I will find my footing. For now, I’ll keep returning meekly, hiding in my parents’ house and devolving back into a kid.
Maryam Jillani
I HEAR YOU! I'm so envious of those who straddle between both worlds effortlessly - confident, purposeful and sure-footed. I thought maybe a couple of months here would help but damn, it's hard.
LoveCompassionateLee
This post was extremely encouraging. Sometimes, I am afraid to take any steps forward because I don't think it will count. It's even difficult discovering what choices to make. Nonetheless, inaction is the enemy of progress.
Maryam Jillani
I'm so glad you found this post encouraging! I hear you about thinking that it won't count or figuring out what choices to make. It's no science, just trial and error really till something sticks 🙂
Sarah Mir
You put it so well and bravo to you on taking those first few steps. I go back to Karachi which I am insanely in love with less often than I’d like and when I do I am ready to exhale. I joke about how my mother behaves as if I don’t know how to cook. Desserts are still my thing there but I’ve learnt to set aside newer recipes in favour of the ones that I grew up baking. They taste exponentially better there than here. Look forward to reading your next post ?
Maryam Jillani
Thank you Sarah! I love Karachi! And so jealous that you have a repertoire of baking favorites that you pull out every time you go back home. One day I really hope to get there! Moms are funny when their daughters step into their kitchen. I find that our dynamic completely changes when she visits me, hehe.
Anita
Hello Maryam,
Hi! I have made this several times. It’s a really good cheap recipe and soooo yummy thanks lady for sharing
Izzah
What a beautiful blog post. I'll be using your halwa recipe next time I make it.
pakistaneats
Thanks so much Izzah! I love your suji ka halwa recipe as well!