Growing up, I thought a lot of things my family did were normal, but with hindsight I realise they were not. For years I was blind to the strangeness of my dad’s daily headstands, the loud, appreciative belches my grandfather uttered after dinner and my mother’s nighttime trips to steal mustard leaves from the local farms.

You could buy other local vegetables at the greengrocer, but never mustard leaves. Aside from in the local fields where they were a fallow crop, they were only rarely available in Asian supermarkets. They are the key ingredient in an ancient dish called sarson ka saag, a rich stew of mustard leaves and cornmeal that originates from Punjab, but became a regular ritual in our Lincolnshire home. It’s a basic, rustic dish, but with a striking personality. Ordinary ingredients turned into something extraordinary, traditionally eaten by Indian farmers alongside makkai ki roti (charred corn roti) and plenty of freshly churned butter.

In England, to make the dish of her childhood, Mum would bundle my dad, sister and I into the car late at night along with a few bags and a knife. During the day it was always too dangerous – not for the fear or shame of getting caught but for the intermittent gunfire liberally dispersed by the farmers, intended for game birds.

As the land is so flat in Lincolnshire, when the moon comes out you can see for miles, but Dad would still put the car lights on full beam while Mum ran into the fields, the large bun coiled atop her head bobbing up and down as she quickly harvested. Every atom in my body vibrated with the tension of doing something naughty as we waited as her accomplices and getaway car.

Back home, the greens were washed, then gently boiled. Steam rose to fill the windows, providing a discreet veil to hide our illicit deed, while the taste and smell of the fresh leaves transformed from pungent, hot and fresh to creamy, mild and earthy. We brightened the dish with fresh ginger and mellowed it with butter before eating it, like the farmers of Punjab, using our fingers and pieces of homemade hot corn rotis.

Years after moving away from home, when I was writing my first cookbook, I quit my job and left to travel around India by train, elbowing my way into people’s kitchens along the way. In Amritsar, I was invited to dinner by a local guide, Manjeet Singh and his wife, Simi. As I walked into their home, I knew just by the smell she was making sarson ka saag. But it transported me thousands of miles back home, to our little village in Lincolnshire. Back to the cold tense night trips, our steamy, fragrant kitchen, and the soft buttery taste of my mum’s sarson ka saag, to take the edge off the passing of time.

Mustard greens with fresh butter and charred corn rotis

Serves 4
250g double cream
1kg mustard leaves, cut into 5cm strips
Rapeseed oil, for frying
2 large onions, finely chopped
5cm ginger, peeled, 4cm cut into cubes and 1cm into matchsticks
6 garlic cloves, crushed
2 green finger chillies, finely sliced
3 tbsp cornmeal
1 ½ tsp salt
20g homemade butter (see below)

For the rotis
200g fine cornmeal
100g plain flour
½ tsp salt
Rapeseed oil
2 green finger chillies, finely sliced
1cm ginger, peeled and grated
140ml hand-hot water

1 To make the butter: blitz the cream for 6 minutes or so,At first the cream will transform into whipped cream then stiff peaks. You might need to stop it and push the cream mixture back towards the blades. Keep blending until the butter comes together and resembles soft crumbs and the buttermilk can be poured out. (Keep it for another recipe). Transfer the butter to a bowl of ice water. Knead it underwater to remove any lingering buttermilk. Pour away the cloudy water. Repeat until the water is almost clear.

2 Add the greens and 500ml water to a saucepan, cover and bring to the boil. Reduce to a simmer for 15 minutes, or until they are tender. Blitz with 4 tbsp water to form a thick paste.

3 Meanwhile, add the onions to a hot, oiled pan over a medium heat, then cook until translucent. Add the cubed ginger, garlic, chillies and cornmeal to the pan, then cook for 5 minutes.

4 Add the greens, salt and butter to the pan, turn the heat to low and cook for 8 minutes. Adjust with water until it has the consistency of hummus. Set aside and keep warm.

5 Now make the rotis. Combine the cornmeal, flour and salt with 1 tbsp oil. Rub with your fingers until it resembles fine breadcrumbs. Stir in the chillies and ginger. Add the water a little at a time and knead for 5 minutes or so, into a pliable dough. On a floured surface, roll it out until 5mm thick, then cut into 10cm discs.

6 Fry 2-3 rotis at a time in a hot, oiled pan over a high heat for 3 minutes or so. Turn every 1-2 minutes, until there are no dark, doughy spots.

7 Serve the hot greens scattered with the remaining ginger and alongside the corn roti, slathered with butter.

• Meera Sodha is a food writer and author. Her new book, Fresh India: 130 Quick, Easy and Delicious Vegetarian Recipes for Every Day (Fig Tree, £20) is out now.