RESTAURATEUR AIDA KHAN REVEALS THE SECRETS OF HOME-COOKED FOOD
by ASJAD NAZIR
Internationally-renowned chef and restaurateur Aida Khan has been surrounded by food from a young age.
The working mother has turned that passion into a full-time career, which included opening a branch of her restaurant Shola Karachi Kitchen in west London recently.
The London-based entrepreneur and food expert hopes to shed light on how Pakistani food can be healthy and appeal to vegans, vegetarians and non-vegetarians alike. She works with a dedicated team of expert chefs to bring the real flavours of Pakistan to diners and wants to convey the message of healthy eating.
Eastern Eye caught up with Aida to talk about food, cooking tips and the secrets of making it in a male-dominated industry.
What first connected you to cooking?
My parents. My father was such an avid foodie, even before it became trendy. He really enjoyed food and my mother loved to cook, so it was a great union. As kids, we had quite advanced palates because our parents made sure we tried everything.
What made you want to turn it into a successful career?
Making it a career was almost the next natural progression. I have loved cooking and enjoyed hosting as well. I started with supper clubs and caterings, and found myself loving it. To date, it doesn’t feel like a job and I feel super lucky. People have been very kind with their feedback and I hope it continues.
What led towards your signature style of food?
A passion to bring the food and flavours from my childhood in the cities I lived in, Islamabad and London.
How have you been able to balance cooking with being an entrepreneur?
The numbers part of the restaurant definitely takes the romance out of it for me, but it has to be done. If I had my way, I would be cooking and feeding all day, but in order for it to work, there are a lot of other things that need to be worked out. Luckily, my husband is incredibly involved and is my operations person, so I am able to still enjoy what I like doing.
What made you want to open a restaurant in London as well?
It was a lack of places in London where you could get home-cooked Pakistani flavours. I wanted to create a space where you could get authentic Pakistani food in a relaxing environment that you wanted to come back to, like home.
Tell us about the kind of food you serve...
We serve authentic and traditional Pakistani food the way it has been enjoyed in households for generations. We create all our masalas from scratch, in house. There really are no shortcuts in our food and we believe in low and slow cooking methods.
What defines Karachi cuisine?
Being a coastal city, Karachi has such an array of influences reflected in its food and is definitely defined by those. You can find the food from all over Pakistan available there.
Tell us, how involved are you with the dishes and menu?
Incredibly involved. All the recipes are family recipes that have been passed down over generations and I feel a responsibility to ensure they are represented accurately. I make our karahi every morning and ensure our palak paneer is cooked to the right consistency.
Do you cook less as you are the boss now?
I don’t think so. I am constantly training staff, so am in the kitchen quite a lot and if not cooking at the restaurant, I am cooking at home.
What top cooking points would you give?
Take your time. Pakistani food cannot be rushed. We slow cook our khatti daal for up to six hours. Our lamb is cooked overnight to give it that melt-in-the-mouth texture.
What are the common mistakes people make when cooking?
Not trusting yourself with the fire. You need to understand heat and the way it interacts with your ingredients and make it your friend.
Is there a secret ingredient you love to use?
No secrets. Just fresh ingredients whenever you can.
What is your favourite meal?
It changes all the time, but I have to say, to me, a good haleem is always a winner.
What is your guilty food pleasure?
Seafood, not necessarily guilty but fresh shell-fish always gets me.
Has family life influenced your approach to food and fine dining?
Luckily, our kids love to try different food and have quite adventurous palates. Whenever we travel as a family, food experiences are definitely part of the agenda. My motivation for working with Pakistani food was to make sure I shared with my two boys, the food that I had grown up with.
What can we expect next from you?
Shola in London is still in early days and I am focusing on expanding the offering here but will definitely be hosting some supper clubs in the near future.
Can you see yourself experimenting with other cuisines?
Not for now. I feel my strength lies in Pakistani food and I would much rather develop that.
What is the best advice you ever got?
Filter out both extreme criticism and extreme praise and then use the rest in productive manner.
Tell us, what is the secret of making it in a male-dominated industry?
It is the same ‘secret’ to making it in the world. Just believe in yourself and keep doing your best. Everything else follows.
What inspires you?
My mother. The ease with which she has over the years created banquets of delicious food single-handedly is something I have been in awe of.
Jay's grandma’s popcorn from Gujarat is now selling out everywhere.
Ditched the influencer route and began posting hilarious videos online.
Available in Sweet Chai and Spicy Masala, all vegan and gluten-free
Jayspent 18 months on a list. Thousands of names. Influencers with follower counts that looked like phone numbers. He was going to launch his grandmother's popcorn the right way: send free bags, wait for posts, pray for traction. That's the playbook, right? That's what you do when you're a nobody selling something nobody asked for.
Then one interaction made him snap. The entitlement. The self-importance. The way some food blogger treated his family's recipe like a favour they were doing him. He looked at his spreadsheet. Closed it. Picked up his phone and decided to burn it all down.
Now he makes videos mocking the same people he was going to beg for help. Influencers weeping over the wrong luxury car. Creators demanding payment for chewing food on camera. Someone having a breakdown about ice cubes. And guess what? The internet ate it up. His popcorn keeps selling out. And from Gujarat, his grandmother's 60-year-old recipe is now moving units because her grandson got mad enough to be funny about it.
Jay’s grandma’s popcorn from Gujarat is now selling out everywhere Instagram/daadisnacks
The kitchen story
Daadi means grandmother in Hindi. Jay's daadi came to America from Gujarat decades ago. Every weekend, she made popcorn with the spices she grew up with, including cardamom, cinnamon, and chilli mixes. It was her way of keeping home close while living somewhere that didn't taste like it.
Jay wanted that in stores. Wanted brown faces in the snack aisle. It didn’t happen overnight. It took a couple of years to get from a family recipe to something they could actually sell. Everyone pitched in, including his grandmom, uncle, mum. The spices come from small local farmers. There are just two flavours for now, Sweet Chai and Spicy Masala. It’s all vegan and gluten-free, packed in bright bags that instantly feel South Asian.
The videos don't look like marketing. They look like someone venting at 11 PM after scrolling too long. He nails the nasal influencer voice. The fake sympathy. “I can’t believe this,” he says in that exaggerated influencer tone, “they gave me the cheaper car, only eighty grand instead of one-twenty.” That clip alone blew up, pulling in close to nine million views.
Most people don't know they're watching a snack brand. They think it's social commentary. Jay never calls himself an influencer. He says he’s a creator, period. There’s a difference, and he makes sure people know it. His TikTok has around three hundred thousand followers, Instagram about half that. The comments read like a sigh of relief, people fed up with fake polish, finally hearing someone say what everyone else was thinking.
This fits into something called deinfluencing; people pushing back against the buy-everything-trust-nobody cycle. But Jay's version has teeth. He's naming names, calling out the economics. Big venture money flows to chains with good lighting. Family businesses with actual stories get ignored because their content isn't slick enough.
Jay watched his New York neighbourhood change. Chains moved in. Influencers posted about places that had funding and were aesthetic. The old spots, the family ones, got left behind. His videos are about that gap. The erosion of local culture by money and aesthetics.
"Big chains and VC-funded businesses are promoted at the expense of local ones," he said. His content doesn't just roast influencers. It promotes other small food makers who can't afford to play the game. He positions Daadi as a defender of something real against something plastic.
And it's working. Not just philosophically. Financially. The videos drive traffic. People click through, try the popcorn, come back. The company can't keep stock. That's the proof.
Daadi popcorn features authentic Gujarat flavours like Sweet Chai and Spicy Masala, all vegan and gluten-free Daadi Snacks
The blowback
People unfollow because they think he's too harsh. Jay's take: "I would argue I need to be meaner."
In May, he posted that he's not chasing content creation money like most people at his follower count. "I post to speak my mind and help my family's snack biz." That's a different model. Most brands pay influencers to make everything look perfect. They chase viral polish, and Jay does the opposite. In fact, he weaponises rawness and treats criticism like a product feature.
The internet mostly backs him. Reddit threads light up with support. One commenter was "toxic influencers choking on their matcha lattes searching their Balenciaga bags." Another: "Influencers are boring and unoriginal and can get bent." The anger is shared. Jay simply gave it a microphone and a snack to buy.
Jay's success says something about where things are going. People are done with curated perfection. They can smell the artificiality now. They respond to brands that feel like humans rather than committees. Daadi doesn't sell aspiration. Doesn't sell a lifestyle. Sells popcorn and a point of view.
The quality matters, including the spices, the sourcing, and the family behind it. But the edge matters too. He’s not afraid to say what most brands tiptoe around. “We just show who we are,” Jay says. “No pretending, no gloss. People can feel that and that’s when they reach for the popcorn.”
Most small businesses can't afford to play the traditional game. Can't pay influencers. Can't hire agencies. Can't fake their way into feeds. Maybe they don't need to. Maybe honesty and humour can cut through if they're sharp enough. If the product backs it up. If the story is real and the person telling it isn't trying to sound like a PR script.
This started with a list Jay didn't use. The business took off the moment he stopped trying to play by the usual rules and started speaking his mind. Turns out, honesty sells. And yes, the popcorn really does taste good.
Daadi Snacks merch dropInstagram/daadisnacks
The question is whether this scales. Whether other small businesses watch this and realise they don't need to beg for attention from people who don't care. Right now, Daadi keeps selling out. People keep watching. The grandmother's recipe that was supposed to need influencer approval is doing fine without it. Better than fine. Turns out the most effective marketing strategy might just be giving a damn and not being afraid to show it.
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