Khageena

I wasn't planning to write today. Then we had khageena for breakfast, and I remembered something about how we collect our lives through food. How small sensory moments become the stories we carry.

How’s that for a philosophical start to the article? I promise to be normal from there on out…

But food does that sometimes. It stops the scroll, as the kids say. Pulls us somewhere else… in the best way possible.

The first time I had khageena was in Islamabad, years ago. I was staying in a small guesthouse, not a hotel, and the staff asked what I wanted for breakfast. Basically: American or Pakistani. I said Pakistani immediately, even though I had no idea what any of the dishes were.

Khageena came out of the kitchen that first morning—spicy scrambled eggs with fresh flatbread. Simple and perfect. I liked it so much that I ordered it again. And again. On the mornings I didn't, I always regretted it.

When I got home, my wife asked if there was anything in particular I'd loved eating on that trip. I loved everything, honestly. But for some reason, khageena stuck out. So she went hunting for recipes and started making it for us.

Now it's just… part of our life. It shows up on our breakfast table alongside other dishes we've collected along the way.

Part of doing diplomacy well (yeah, I’m tying it back to that), I learned early, was saying yes to experiences like this. Ordering the thing you don't recognize. Trying what the locals eat. Asking to learn the recipe. Food was never just food… it was part of trying to understand a place. And more importantly, showing openness.

Every time we eat khageena now, I'm right back there. The guesthouse. The early mornings. The sounds outside. The conversations. The feeling of being somewhere unfamiliar and loving every minute of it.

I think about food a lot. I know, who doesn't, right? But I try to think about it consciously, intentionally. If you don't mind, I'm going to go all philosophical for a minute (again… sorry, I know I said I’d try to be good). I don't think food just fills us up. I think it carries memories. It takes us places we haven't been in a while. Reminds us of experiences. Conversations. People. Life.

That's one of the reasons I look forward to mealtime so much… not just because it tastes great (and yes, being married to a chef helps), but because it reminds me how much of life lives in small, sensory moments.

So what's a dish that does that for you? What food takes you back to a moment, a place, a version of yourself you almost forgot?

For me, it's spicy scrambled eggs on a quiet morning in Islamabad. Still is.