January never feels like a beginning to me.
It feels more like clearing the garden beds - pulling what’s done, loosening the soil, and resisting the urge to plant anything too soon.

After the stretch from Thanksgiving to New Year’s - cookies, casseroles, festive chaos, and the nervous system equivalent of jazz hands - my body doesn’t crave restriction. It craves simple. It craves vegetables. It craves rhythm.

Enter khichdi.
(Or kitchari - same soul, different spelling.)

If you follow me on Instagram, you already know this dish makes frequent appearances. You can watch me make it here:

@thedailysadhna

Sadhna Sheli 🧿 on Instagram: ""I will never be a morning perso…

Khichdi is rice and lentils cooked into a soft, creamy porridge, gently spiced, endlessly adaptable, and deeply comforting. It’s one of those foods that feels like it’s doing quiet work behind the scenes - steadying digestion, warming the body, and asking very little of you in return.

In Indian households, khichdi is everyday food. Baby food. Healing food. “I don’t feel great today but I still need to eat” food. In Ayurveda, it’s deeply nourishing and easy to digest - often used during cleansing or times of transition. In my house, it’s simply what we eat when things feel off-kilter and we want to come back to center.

I almost always pair it with whatever vegetables are in season - usually roasted in the oven until caramelized and tender. I’ll spoon the khichdi into a bowl, top it with those veggies, and suddenly dinner feels like both nourishment and comfort food.

This is how I return after the holidays.
Not with a plan. Not with rules. Just consistency. And a pot of sunshine on the stove, keeping my mind happy - food for mood.

Khichdi (Kitchari)

Creamy, comforting, endlessly adaptable.

Ingredients

• ½ cup moong dal (split mung beans without skin), rinsed and soaked 2 hours or overnight

• ½ cup Sonamasuri or basmati rice, rinsed until the water runs clear

• 4 cups water

• 1 teaspoon Himalayan pink salt (or to taste)

• 2 teaspoons fresh ginger, finely grated (I use a microplane)

• ½ teaspoon turmeric

• A few grinds of fresh black pepper

Method (or: how to let dinner take care of you)

Rinse + soak your dal.
Rinse the moong dal until the water runs clear. Soak for at least 2 hours - or overnight if you’re thinking ahead (rare, admirable). Drain, rinse, and set aside.

Start the pot.
Add the soaked dal, rice, water, salt, ginger, turmeric, and a few grinds of black pepper to a medium pot. Stir gently - you’re introducing everyone before the long simmer.

Bring to a slow boil.
Bring the pot to a gentle simmer over medium heat. A little foam will float to the surface - simply scoop it away like soft yellow clouds and discard. Once it’s simmering, lower the heat, partially cover (leave a little crack for steam), and let it do its thing.

Let it soften.
Cook for about 40 minutes, no need to stir, until the lentils and rice surrender into a creamy, spoonable porridge. If it thickens too much, add a splash of hot water and keep going. Khichdi is generous that way.

Pause.
Turn off the heat and let it rest while you prepare the tadka - this is where the quiet fills the kitchen with fragrance.

For the Tadka (Tempering)

• 2 tablespoons vegan butter, ghee, or coconut oil

• 2–5 fresh curry leaves

• ½ teaspoon cumin seeds

• ¼ teaspoon mustard seeds

• ⅛ teaspoon hing (asafoetida)

Make the tadka (the moment it all wakes up).

Heat the fat.
In a small pan, warm the ghee, vegan butter, or coconut oil over medium heat until it shimmers.

Bloom the spices.
Add the curry leaves, cumin seeds, and mustard seeds. When they begin to pop and perfume the air, add the hing. Stir quickly - this part moves fast and fills up your senses (damn ADD showing up while I’m writing this recipe got me thinking of the John Denver song).

Finish the dish.
Carefully pour the hot, spiced fat over the khichdi. Stir gently, letting the flavors ripple through.

Serve
Spoon into bowls and top with whatever vegetables are in season - usually roasted until caramelized and tender.
Add a handful of cilantro if you like.

Eat warm. Slowly if you can. Be here now, as Ram Dass would say.

Make It Yours

• Add ½ cup chopped cilantro at the end

• Stir in 1 cup chopped greens (spinach, baby kale, or chard) during the last 5–7 minutes

• Top with or serve alongside roasted seasonal vegetables

This isn’t about getting “back on track.”
It’s about remembering what your body already knows.

Warmth.
Fiber.
Rhythm.

Awareness is the practice.🌿

I’ve always been a little bit of a rambler-on, so bear with me while I wander my way into Fall…

Tomorrow marks the first day of Fall, my favorite season. My mom says when I was two years old in Wayne, Michigan, I loved to throw myself onto the piles of leaves she had raked in the yard. By the time I was a teenager in New Jersey, Fall meant something sweeter — my mom’s apple betty and my Aunt Doris’s pumpkin pie. Those flavors were Fall for me.

My Dad’s family was from Kentucky, so my roots are more Southern than Midwestern, but those early memories of leaves changing colors along the East Coast, stitched together with pie, became part of the fabric of the season — and still hold a big place in my heart.

Here in SoCal, my four kiddos haven’t known that kind of Fall, but I tried to give them a sense of it through farm visits — searching for pumpkins and squash the way we’d hunt for a Christmas tree in December. Decorating the house with Fall’s harvest became our way of marking the season, a ritual that roots us to the cycles of change, even with endless sunshine and flip flops.

As we transition into Fall weather, Ayurveda reminds us that seasonal foods help balance the predominant elements of air and ether this time of year — think winds, cooler weather, dryness, leaves falling, skin feeling drier, and even a scattered mind. Swapping raw, cold foods like salads and smoothies for warm, nourishing meals — and trading iced drinks for warm cups of tea — helps keep us grounded, satisfied, and mentally stable. In short: it invites peace to our monkey mind.

Last week at the farmers market, I noticed the shift in produce, and butternut squash caught my eye.

Perfect for Meatless Monday and the first day of Fall: my Mind-Fall Pasta with Butternut Cheeze Sauce below. It’s cozy, plant-forward, and easy to pull together.

🍂Butternut Squash “Cheeze” Pasta (Mind-Fall Edition)

The season shifts, and so does what feels like comfort food: warm, golden pasta in a cheezy sauce that hugs every shell — grounding, plant-forward, indulgent, and cozy. This is my ritual for welcoming Fall.

For the sauce (cashew base + butternut squash blend)

• ½ cup raw cashews

• 4–6 cups warm water

• ½ cup onion, diced

• 1 small clove garlic, thinly sliced

• 2 tbsp neutral tasting olive oil (or avocado oil)

• 1 cup vegetable broth

• 4 cups (about 1 lb) butternut squash, peeled and cubed

• 1 tsp Himalayan pink salt (or to taste)

• 1 cup light coconut milk (from a can)

• ½ cup nutritional yeast

• 1 tsp onion granules

• Pinch of garlic powder

• ½ tsp dry mustard powder

• 1 tsp mellow white miso paste

• 1 ½ tbsp fresh lemon juice

• Pinch of white pepper

For the pasta

• 1 lb shell or macaroni pasta works too

• 2 tbsp vegan butter (like Earth Balance)

• 1 heaped tbsp Himalayan pink salt

Make the magic

1. Soak the cashews. Place raw cashews in a medium bowl covered with warm water and let them soften for 3–4 hours. Drain, rinse, and set aside like a singer backstage, waiting for their encore.

2. Soften the aromatics. Heat olive oil in a pan over low-medium heat. Add the onion and sweat slowly for 5–8 minutes until translucent and fragrant. Add garlic for 2 more minutes - you want it soft, not browned. Transfer both to a blender.

3. Cook the squash. In a large pan, bring vegetable broth to a boil. Add butternut squash cubes, sprinkle with salt, cover, and cook until fork-tender. Drain any excess liquid and add squash to the blender with the onions + garlic.

4. Blend the sauce. Add soaked cashews, coconut milk, nutritional yeast, onion granules, garlic powder, mustard powder, miso, lemon juice, white pepper, and another pinch of salt. Blend on high until smooth and glossy. Taste and adjust —sauce is as personal as pie crust.

5. Cook the pasta. Bring a large pot of generously salted water to a boil (1 heaped tablespoon does the trick). Add pasta and cook until al dente, then drain.

6. Marry pasta + sauce. Return pasta to the pot with vegan butter, stirring until shells glisten. Pour in the cheeze sauce, stirring until every curve is coated in golden velvet.

7. Serve immediately. Fall in a bowl — silky, savory, grounding, and the kind of comfort food that anchors you in the moment.

✨ Kitchen notes

• Light coconut milk keeps the sauce creamy without shouting “coconut.”

• A sprinkle of panko breadcrumbs toasted in vegan butter until golden adds a cozy crunch, and a few twists of freshly ground black pepper add a gentle kick.

• Serve alongside roasted veggies or a simple green salad — or just eat standing at the counter while listening to Zeppelin.

Peaceful sleep isn’t always a given — especially after a long day of wearing many hats. And if your monkey mind leans a little restless (ok, wildly…feral), bedtime can feel more like a drum solo than a lullaby. Even grown-ups deserve a bedtime ritual.

When the twins were little (they’re 12 now!), they wanted me to stay in their room until they fell asleep. I’d lie there frustrated, desperate for “me time,” or I’d nod off sandwiched between them and wake up at 3 a.m. with a stray hand (or foot) in my face.

One night I broke the cycle: I decided to try meditating in their room. The deal was they had to be quiet if they wanted me to stay. At first, lots of “shhhh, mama is meditating” was happening — and I thought, this is not going to work. But soon, quiet became natural. They fell asleep faster, and I got my practice in.

These days, I still take turns meditating in their rooms. It keeps me accountable to my nighttime practice, keeps them from sneaking into each other’s rooms to talk for hours, and yes, they still find it comforting to drift off with me there — even as “big kids.”

“A good day begins the night before.” ~ Dr. Suhas Kshirsagar

My Bedtime Sadhna: Rituals for Restful Sleep

Foundations for better rest:

• 🕰️ Consistent sleep schedule: I aim to go to bed and wake up around the same time every day.

• 📱 Screens off: At least an hour before bed — yes, it makes a difference.

• 🥗 Light dinner: Easier on digestion, promotes deeper sleep.

Nightly rhythm (unless there’s a holiday or a sick kiddo, in that case I just do what I can):

1. Abhyanga (self-massage with warm oil)

   • Weeknights: simple — gently massage sesame oil (organic and unrefined) in/on navel (Nabhi Abhyanga), elbows, knees, and feet (socks save the sheets).

   • Weekends: a full-body massage + warm shower - be careful not to slip.

   • Bonus: diffuse lavender, bergamot, or sandalwood essential oils.

   • 💡 Too tired? Just massage your feet with oil — instant calm.

2. A warm drink

   • Haldi doodh (golden milk) with a splash of vanilla - so good.

   • Or my favorite chamomile–rose tea (Republic of Tea).

   • 💡 Any non-caffeinated herbal tea can feel soothing.

3. Reading

   

   • Just one chapter — think uplifting, inspiring, sacred. Right now I’m reading Breadsong: How Baking Changed Our Lives by Kitty & Al Tait — deeply relatable since learning to bake bread once changed my life too.

4. Journaling

   • I recently listened to an episode of the Ojas Oasis podcast with Dr. Suhas Kshirsagar — I adapted some of his journal prompts that felt too good not to share:

     • Body: What did I eat today? How did it make me feel? Can I do something different with my meals tomorrow to feel more deeply nourished?

     • How did I move or exercise today? Did it leave me feeling energized or depleted? How can I improve on this tomorrow?

     • Mind: What conversations, media, foods, or moments shaped my mood? Did I react or respond? Feel agitated or calm? How can I make small shifts tomorrow to invite more peace?

     • Spirit: Did I pause for gratitude before eating, bring awareness to my breath while waiting for the kettle to boil, connect with nature, read or listen to sacred texts, or whisper a prayer? How can I honor the light in me tomorrow?

     💡 Too tired? Just write one word — how you feel.

5. Meditation or Yoga Nidra

   • For my feral monkey mind, mantra is my go-to.

   • If you don’t have a personal mantra, try So Hum: inhale So, exhale Hum.

   • Yoga Nidra, a guided awareness practice, can also help you tap into stillness before sleep — you can find sessions on YouTube or most meditation apps.

   • 💡 Even 2 minutes counts. Just bringing awareness to your everyday bedtime rhythm becomes a meditation in itself.

These rituals remind me that rest isn’t simply giving in to exhaustion — it’s a daily devotion. A way of practicing peace.✨

The first recipe I want to share here is one of my favorite rituals: making challah.

I call my practice of breadmaking breaditation—because kneading dough feeds my peace, and eating it feeds my soul.

Back when I was a single mom of two juggling school runs, ballet classes, sports activities, and the occasional existential meltdown, I studied at Le Cordon Bleu. I fell in love with bread—the squish of dough between my fingers, the yeasty perfume, the seemingly little miracles that I pulled out of the ovens. I even dreamed of a bread truck I named Bread Mother (a little ahead of my time—this was before food trucks were cool).

This challah recipe is rooted in that passion and deepened by tradition. I learned the technique in school, but it was my husband’s parents who shared their love of the ritual with me. Now, every Friday, I braid loaves—or sometimes rounds, sometimes rolls—with our twins, making memories, honoring tradition, and baking a little more love into the world.

Check the twins out making challah on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/reel/Ci3kG_0pFrW/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igsh=MTlycW9wNTh1N2c1Mw==

Makes 2 loaves

Ingredients

• 2 ½ cups water (I use cold water from the tap)

• 2 packets active dry yeast

• 4 heaping Tbsp organic sugar

• 8 cups organic all-purpose flour (King Arthur brand is my fav), plus extra for dusting hands & table

• 1 Tbsp kosher salt

• ½ tsp turmeric (optional, gives the crumb a sunny glow)

• ⅓ cup avocado oil (or neutral oil), plus extra for greasing

• 2 Tbsp vanilla soymilk (or plant milk of choice)

• 2 Tbsp sesame seeds

Gram weights for those who prefer precision:

1. 525g water

2. 14g yeast

3. 75g sugar

4. 1000g flour

5. 16g salt

6. 70g oil

Method

1. Wake the yeast. Combine water, yeast, and sugar in a large bowl. Let it sit 5 minutes until foamy. If it doesn’t froth, your yeast has clocked out—start fresh.

2. Build the base. Add flour to yeast mixture, cover with a kitchen towel, and rest 20 minutes. This pause lets the flour hydrate and gives your dough a head start on its glow-up.

3. Add flavor. Mix in salt, turmeric, and oil. Turn dough out onto a floured surface and knead, by hand until smooth and elastic —like a baby’s bottom (~roughly 10 minutes).

4. First rise. Shape the dough into a ball and place it in a bowl greased with a little oil—don’t forget a light coat on top of the dough too! Let it nap for 1 hour or so, until doubled. Inhale that yeasty perfume, watch it grow, and exhale the week.

5. Divide + rest. Punch down, divide into 6 equal pieces, shape into balls, cover, and let rest 10–15 minutes. This bench rest relaxes the gluten so rolling ropes feels effortless.

6. Shape. Roll each ball into a long rope (~about the length of your sheet pan). Braid 3 ropes together and pinch ends. Repeat with the other 3 ropes. Place on parchment-lined sheet pans.

7. Second rise. Cover and let puff 25–40 minutes. Test by pressing gently with a knuckle: if it springs back slowly and leaves a small dent, it’s ready. Think marshmallow vibes, beautiful.

8. Wash + sprinkle. Brush lightly with plant milk, then scatter sesame seeds. Too much liquid = soggy top; go light-handed and keep your zen.

9. Bake. 350°F for 30–40 minutes, rotating tray if necessary. Loaves should be bronzed, fragrant, and sound hollow when tapped.

10. Cool (or not). Let rest at least 20 minutes (if your willpower allows). Tear, toast, or gift—the loaves forgive impatience.

Shape It Your Way

Braiding, rolling, twisting, rounding—the options are endless. Photos below show a few of my favorites, but remember: even the lopsided ones bake up golden and gorgeous. Play with it. Laugh at your mistakes. This is baking therapy.

Tips from My Kitchen

• Nesting 2 sheet pans prevents over-browned bottoms.

• Flour sparingly—dry dough is sad dough.

• Plant milk wash alternatives: pineapple juice, diluted maple syrup, or the good ole egg wash if you want sheen.

• A scale helps with even strands, but if you prefer “Livin’ On The Edge”🎵 like the Aerosmith song—eyeball bravely.

• Oven temperamental? Rotate trays halfway through.