interview

What’s in my Dabba? with Cockney Sikh

As part of our What’s In My Dabba? series, Suresh Singh – better known as the Cockney Sikh – shares philosophical tidbits, a langar-inspired aloo roti recipe and fond memories of his mum.

No Bombay kitchen is complete without its Masala Dabba, a stainless-steel box, worn and battered, passed down through the generations. Each is as unique as its owner, full of most-favoured spices and many-varied stories within. In our ‘What’s In My Dabba?’ series, we get a glimpse into some of our friends’ kitchens, as they share the judicious spicing of their favourite dishes, along with hosting rituals, tips and stories. Delight awaits.

In this instalment, we join Suresh Singh – better known by his alias, the Cockney Sikh – as he sets the table for the all-important festival of Vaisakhi. Keep reading for Suresh’s recollections from his East London childhood, how his faith informs his cooking, and why oneness matters when hosting.

What’s in your Masala Dabba?

Organic turmeric; jeera seeds or cumin; ground jeera; dried methi or fenugreek – grown in Jagir’s organic garden; organic sea salt; dried Kasoori methi (from the Punjabi city of Kasur, now in Pakistan) and garam masala, an aromatic spice blend.

Which spice are you reaching for most often while cooking?

Jeera. It represents being faithful to the teachings of Sikhi and the Khalsa in 1699 initiated by the tenth guru, Shri Guru Gobind Singh ji Maharaja. Happy Vaisakhi.

1. Mesmerising portrait of Guru Nanak Ji

2. Freshly ground spices in Suresh's masala dabba

3. Kneading of atta for fresh roti-making

4. Fresh-off-the-tawa Aloo Roti with langar-walli daal and prashad

5. Nicely measured (and spiced) ingredients for Aloo Roti

What are some of your earliest memories of cooking?

My mother. She was always cooking in big pans for lots of people, brewing masala tea with milk on the gas ring. It seemed nothing ever boiled over. She had mastered it to an art, the size of the gas flame and the circumference of the pan. She made daals, cooked spinach. We kept a big sack of brown flour in a dustbin, twenty-five kilos, and she loved making chapatis in abundance. I would help her butter them with Anchor butter, wrapped in cloth to keep them soft and stacked one on top of the other in an aluminium pot with a lid. We always thought there was an endless bundle because they never ran out. On Sundays and on special occasions I would help Mum make sweet prashad – stirring it non-stop, so it would not stick or burn.

What’s on the menu for us today?

A humble but soul-satisfying Vaisakhi thali – inspired by the langar or community kitchen at Sikh gurdwaras. Langars serve daily meals to all free of charge, regardless of religion, caste, gender, economic status or ethnicity. My dad brought this to Spitalfields in 1949, from Punjab.

Our menu includes aloo roti, daal (made with whole urad, chana and matki daal), and sweet suji prashad – made from semolina. All washed down with steaming langar-walli chai, made with fennel, cardamom, cinnamon, fresh organic ginger, oat milk and organic tea bags. You can find the Aloo Roti recipe here.

A tip for when cooking with spices?

Work in joy and with thanks to the pure divine; use a spoon, and be grateful for the difference and strength of each spice aspect.

How are you welcoming guests to the table?

All utensils are passed on through generations, to show love and respect to each other as Shri Guru Gobind Singh ji Maharaja would have done. Allow someone who wants to eat on the floor to do so; judge no one and enjoy and be grateful. Play vinyl hymns my Dad brought over from Punjab in 1960.

Can you tell us of a ritual that you swear by before hosting friends and family.

Treat each other as Ik (as one), be humble with no ego. Love in Divine Love.