Cooked the way it was taught: Little India Nelson

There’s something about cooking over fire that feels older than memory.
In our family home in Punjab, the tandoor was never just a piece of equipment. It sat outside in the courtyard, fired by charcoal when it was time to cook. Dough pressed by hand and placed against the clay walls. The glow of the coals. The quiet pause before the bread was lifted out, warm and ready to be shared.
We still cook this way.
Not because it’s different. Not because it’s complicated. But because fire gives flavour in a way nothing else quite can. It gives naan its gentle char. It gives meats their depth. It brings a soft smokiness that settles into curries and lingers at the table.
More than that, it carries lineage.
Our head chefs were trained in our grandmother Premjit Kaur Gill’s kitchen in Chandigarh. The same care she gave to her family is the care that lives in our tandoors today. It isn’t rushed. It isn’t reinvented. It’s done the way it was taught.
When naan arrives at your table, warm and ready to tear, you’re tasting more than bread. You’re tasting something passed from hands to hands, across generations and oceans.
Your table’s waiting.
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