Just made my fourth batch of onion bhadji. It’s still hit or miss, but that’s part of the excitement. The best part is working with the spice mill – grinding cardamom, chili flakes, cloves, coriander seed. Like mixing colours before painting. Baking them on parchment paper results in something fruit leather–esque, a pliable, savory sheet I use like a wrap, rolling in spinach, tomatoes, grated beets. Not every batch sings. Sometimes it is too lemony. Other times, the onions release too much liquid and turn the batter into unrollable goo, more sludge less bread. I haven’t mastered the balance yet: flavour, form, flexibility. When it works, it’s magic. When it doesn’t, you take notes, try again. Reminds me of a setlist. You lay out songs like key ingredients, but the flow how one track leads into the next, how tempo, tone, and texture shift is a kind of alchemy. Too much intensity at the top, and you wear everyone out. Too much subtlety in the middle, and attention drifts. It’s not just about the songs themselves it’s how they breathe together. A setlist has to hold together, bend without breaking, and leave something memorable.