Vermont is many things, but let’s agree that our population doesn’t usually conjure up adjectives like “exotic,” “ethnic,” or “diverse.” Our population is slowly diversifying to reflect the rich fabric of this country; but with our current nonwhite proportion of less than 5 percent, we are better known for another basic palette: a black-and-white cow, a red barn, green mountains. Coming here from New York City, my family gorged on these primary colors, eating pecks of apples; bushels of winter squash, and wheels of cheese, and drinking growlers of beer. We also yearned for the full spectrum: the yellow-orange of turmeric and brown-red of smoked paprika; the purple of Japanese eggplant and tan of roasted tahini; the colors, fabrics, and smells of spice routes far from our mountain passes and gaps. So I began my own patchwork quilt in pots, making curries and other spiced delicacies.

When we make butternut curry with coconut milk, spicy garlic hummus, smoked paprika baba ganoush, or zesty poached egg and tomato shakshuka, we want fresh flatbreads, too. They are ridiculously easy—so easy, in fact, that our children, with a gram scale, rolling pin, hot griddle, and open flame, can have them buttered and on the table in less than an hour. And this process does more than bring the children to the table for sustenance; it brings them the nourishment of handcraft. It fills them with confidence and empowers them to transform the inedible to the edible. Not unlike knitting, when yarn becomes a scarf, this sleight of hand lets them see flour become flatbread. Get rid of the handhelds and set children to making something.

This recipe is more than an exact list of ingredients in measured quantities. It is a daily bread in many cultures and, as such, should be adaptable. Can it be made with all whole wheat or with the addition of rye or even lentil flour? Absolutely. This is subsistence baking—take what you get, make what you can.