
As the granddaughter of a landowner and farmer from the heart of Punjab, India, I implore you, please do not refer to Saag as Palak. My family spent our years living in America struggling to string vacation days together to visit my grandparents in the haweli where my father grew up. To even get to his childhood village, you have to drive your way through fields and fields of bright green and yellow-topped mustard green fields. I've been on a tractor in those same fields and can still smell that freshly-cut aroma from the tender stems. When these mustard greens are cooked...