Cooking has always been a joy for me—not just something I do out of routine, but something that gives me comfort, pride, and creativity. It’s one of the ways I stay rooted to my heritage, while also exploring other cultures through their flavors. My husband especially loves when I make beef vindaloo, a dish known for its bold spices and deep, layered flavors. For him, it’s more than a meal—it’s a dish that makes him feel cared for. For me, it’s a reminder that food is love made tangible, a language that doesn’t need words.
Because of that, food has always felt like more than just nourishment in my home. It’s a bridge—a way to connect across cultures, across oceans, and even across history. And as I reflect on Hispanic Heritage Month, I’ve found myself drawn to the connections between Hispanic and Pakistani cuisines. On the surface, they may seem worlds apart, shaped by different geographies and histories, but when you look closer, you’ll find shared threads.
Food, after all, tells the story of people—how they traveled, how they traded, and how they celebrated. It’s no accident that the same spices and ingredients echo across continents. Empires, explorers, and everyday people carried them in their hands and hearts, weaving flavors into new lands until they became tradition. That’s why when I bite into a warm roti or see someone make fresh tortillas, I feel a kinship. When I taste cumin in arroz con pollo, I recognize the same spice that perfumes my curries. It’s a beautiful reminder that cultures are always talking to each other through food.
Here are some of the strongest ways I’ve found Hispanic and Pakistani cuisines connect:
1. Rice as a Shared Staple
Rice is not just food—it’s culture. In Pakistan, it’s the foundation of biryani, a dish so beloved it’s practically poetry. It’s in pulao, where every grain is infused with stock and spices. It’s also in simple white chawal, which transforms when paired with daal or curry. Similarly, in Hispanic cuisine, rice plays a central role. Arroz con pollo, arroz rojo, arroz con gandules—each dish tells a story of how rice became the backbone of celebration and daily life. Both cultures use rice as more than a filler; it’s the stage on which flavors come alive.
2. The Spice of Life
In Pakistani kitchens, spices are everything. Cumin, coriander, turmeric, garam masala—these aren’t just ingredients, they’re identities. They create the warmth and fire that define the cuisine. Hispanic cooking has a parallel philosophy: it thrives on bold, unapologetic flavors. Think of smoked paprika in Spanish dishes, cumin in Mexican stews, or achiote in Central America. Spices don’t just season the food—they tell you where you are. They remind you of ancestors who ground them by hand, families who measured by feel rather than recipe, and meals meant to awaken every sense.
3. Flatbreads and Tortillas
Every culture has its bread, and for Pakistanis it’s roti, naan, or paratha—soft, pliable, and meant to scoop up curries or soak up sauces. For Hispanic cultures, it’s the tortilla, equally humble yet equally vital. What’s remarkable is that thousands of miles apart, people came to the same conclusion: flour, water, and heat could create a vessel for flavor. Both breads are more than food—they’re daily rituals. Rolling out dough, warming it on a griddle, and serving it hot is an act of care that transcends borders.
4. Sweets for Celebration
Desserts tell you what a culture celebrates. In Pakistan, you’ll find gulab jamun soaking in syrup, jalebi spiraled into golden crunch, or kheer thick with rice and milk. These are dishes of weddings, Eid, and family gatherings. In Hispanic traditions, flan, tres leches cake, and churros carry the same weight of joy. These sweets aren’t everyday indulgences—they’re cultural markers, tied to moments of togetherness. What connects them is the way sugar becomes memory: the taste of childhood, the flavor of a festival, the sweetness of life’s milestones.
5. The Power of Community Meals
In both Hispanic and Pakistani households, food is not eaten in silence. It’s served in abundance, meant for sharing, and always accompanied by conversation. In Pakistan, it’s trays of biryani at weddings, endless cups of chai for guests, and family meals that stretch long into the evening. In Hispanic communities, it’s tamales at Christmas, Sunday family lunches, or gatherings where no one leaves hungry. The heart of both traditions is this: food isn’t just for survival, it’s for community.
When I think about these connections, I realize that food is one of the purest ways we see how cultures overlap, even when they feel worlds apart. Hispanic Heritage Month is a time to honor the contributions, flavors, and traditions of Hispanic communities. But for me, it’s also a reminder that our cultures are always speaking to each other—sometimes through trade, sometimes through history, and often through the meals we make at home.
Whether I’m cooking beef vindaloo for my husband or learning about arroz con pollo, I find comfort in knowing that food creates bridges where words sometimes cannot. And maybe that’s the most beautiful flavor of all: connection.
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I absolutely love this! As someone with Mexican roots who grew up cooking with my abuela, I can really see the connections you’re making. The way spices carry history and memory is so true—my mom always says the smell of cumin reminds her of her childhood kitchen. I never thought about how similar our flatbreads are until now, and it’s amazing to think that so many cultures came to the same idea of creating bread as a vessel for flavor. Thank you for showing how food truly connects us across continents.
This really resonates with me! I grew up in Pakistan surrounded by the smells of biryani, curries, and fresh roti, and reading about the similarities with Hispanic dishes is fascinating. I never realized how much we share in our love for bold spices and community meals. It’s inspiring to see food as a bridge between cultures—it makes me want to try making arroz con pollo at home!
I’ve always loved cooking for my family, and your post made me think about the connections I’ve never noticed before. The part about sweets really hit me—flan at birthdays, churros on weekends, it’s exactly like the sweets we share in my friend’s Pakistani household. It’s amazing how traditions across the world mirror each other in ways we don’t even realize.
What a beautiful reflection on culture and cuisine! I’ve been trying to experiment with more international dishes in my kitchen, and reading this makes me appreciate the history and care behind every recipe. I especially loved the section about community meals—so much of our happiness comes from sharing food, and it’s incredible to see that reflected across cultures.
I really enjoyed reading this! In Thailand, we also have a love for bold spices and rice-based dishes, which makes me feel a connection to both Hispanic and South Asian cuisines. Dishes like khao soi or green curry share the same warmth and depth of flavor I see in biryani or arroz con pollo. It’s amazing how food can create these bridges across cultures—so many shared tastes and traditions that make the world feel smaller and more connected.
This post really struck a chord with me. I was born in Burundi but have lived in London for the past ten years, and reading about the connections between Hispanic and South Asian cuisines reminded me so much of my childhood. One of my favourite dishes growing up was Isombe, a stew made with cassava leaves, peanut butter, and sometimes fish or meat. It’s hearty, full of flavour, and served with rice—so similar to the comforting rice-based dishes you’ve mentioned.
Here’s a simple version I used to eat at home: boil cassava leaves until tender, then blend with sautéed onions, garlic, and a good spoonful of peanut butter. Add some stock and simmer for 20–30 minutes. If you like, add small pieces of smoked fish or chicken. Serve hot over plain rice and enjoy the rich, nutty, and slightly tangy taste that reminds me of home.
It’s amazing how dishes across continents can carry the same warmth and sense of community.
I really loved this post! Growing up in Johannesburg, one of my favourite dishes was Chakalaka, a spicy vegetable relish we often eat with pap (a maize porridge). The mix of peppers, onions, tomatoes, and beans reminds me a lot of the bold flavours in Hispanic and South Asian dishes. We’d often share it with family at big Sunday lunches, and everyone would gather around, passing bowls and laughing.
Even now, living in Cape Town, I find that the way food brings people together is universal. Reading your reflections made me realise just how much flavour—and culture—travels across borders. It’s incredible to see the connections between our kitchens, even when continents apart.
This made me smile. In Sri Lanka too, rice and spices are at the heart of our meals, and reading about these connections reminded me of home. It’s beautiful how food across cultures carries the same message of care and togetherness.