A vibrant, hand-knitted chevron fabric featuring a repeating zigzag pattern. The chevrons move upward in sharply angled rows, with each stripe blending smoothly into the next through a radiant rainbow spectrum. Starting from deep purples and blues at the bottom, the colors transition through magenta, hot pink, red, orange, yellow, and into teal and green near the top. The texture of the stitches is clearly visible, adding dimension and a tactile quality to the fabric. The yarn appears to be hand-dyed, creating rich gradients and tonal depth throughout the piece.

Mini Muse & Me

Roti for One, Love for a Lifetime

It had been a for-real wringer of a week, but I decided I was going to make my own roti. I love cooking — it’s a balm to my soul to be in the kitchen. Even though I’m only cooking for myself, I crave good, honest, flavourful food. Cooking is how I show love… and this time, I was lavishing myself with love.

I googled, chatted with a chef I met at the grocery store, and landed on Aashirvaad that I bought from Grocery Zone in Barrie as the best atta I could get my hands on. The roti recipe I followed was from Cook with Manali — just two ingredients, so the flour needed to be quality. Her instructions were clear, detailed, with helpful photos. I felt confident… okay, confident with a low-grade anxiety that there was no way I could actually pull this off.

I made the dough. I’ve baked enough with my mom and Granny to feel what “soft dough” should be. Even though I had second (and third) thoughts about adding more water or flour, I listened to the whispers of my ancestors and left it alone to rest.

A hand holds a small, round, smooth ball of roti dough. The wooden surface beneath is lightly dusted with flour and a rolling pin sits nearby.
Dough Ball:
Step one: faith in flour and fingers. A soft little dough ball full of potential (and ancestral whispers).
A single roti rolled out into a thin circle sits on a wooden board, ready to be cooked. A rolling pin and container of ghee are visible in the background.
Circle(ish), soft, and ready to become something magical. I could feel the memories in my hands.
#flourandwater #rotiroll #kitchenalchemy

Then came the rolling with a wooden rolling pin that I have had since time out of memory.

The muscle memory kicked in like riding a bike. I rolled out twelve little dough circles — circle(ish) — thin and soft, and I actually got tears in my eyes from the feeling of making. This was it. Flour and water. That’s all. And I was making flatbread from scratch.

A metal pie plate holds a stack of uncooked, rolled-out roti. The rolling pin and ghee jar are behind on the wooden counter.
Stacked & Waiting:
Twelve little discs of love, stacked and ready for their moment in the heat.

I heated my Pampered Chef cast iron pan and decided, based on Manali’s guidance and my own instinct, to skip the oil. Dry pan it was.

And honestly? I didn’t expect it to work. I figured I’d end up with a dozen rustic crackers that would bee quality bird food.

But y’all.

An uncooked roti is cooking in a cast iron skillet. The dough is just beginning to change color as it heats.
Pan-Ready:
Into the pan she goes — dry cast iron, hot and waiting. No oil, just tradition and trust.
The roti in the cast iron skillet has started to puff and form golden brown spots, a sign that it’s nearly done.
Puffing Begins:
It’s happening!! Bubbling and puffing with pride — I gasped like I was watching a magic trick.
The roti has puffed dramatically in the skillet, forming a balloon-like shape with charred patches and perfect browning.
Full Puff Moment:
Y’ALL. Look at that puff!! That’s the moment I shed an actual tear. This is self-love in edible form.

I am VERKLEMPT at what I made. The roti were magical — bubbling, browning, puffing up with all the pride I felt. I brushed each one with a kiss of ghee. I didn’t even taste the first. Or the second. Part of me was scared that the magic was only in how they looked.

I scooped some curry into a bowl, folded two warm roti onto a plate, and sat down.

Y’ALL.

A close-up of two folded roti on a red plate next to a bowl of curry. In the background is a stack of more roti on a silver plate. The roti are golden brown with charred spots and a light shine from ghee.
Final Plate Soft, chewy, glorious homemade roti — kissed with ghee and paired with curry. I made these with my own hands and heart.

They were soft, chewy, with the perfect hint of char. And I think this is what they’re actually supposed to taste like. I shed a tear of joy, scooping my own curry with my own roti.

Roti might be my new obsession food.
And this? This was an act of radical love. For myself.

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