It’s just over two years since I got the call asking me to write a vegan recipe column for this magazine. It was a dream come true, but there were a few small problems.

For a start, I wasn’t vegan.

Second, I had only ever written about Indian food.

Third, I had just had a baby, who was only a few weeks old. Not only had life been thrown into chaos by Arya’s arrival, but I had planned to take a year off. It was an amazing opportunity that had come at the worst possible time. I stalled for a day. I said yes.

The truth is, I was excited to enter this brave new world. Huge numbers of people, growing by the day even then, were choosing to eat a more plant-based diet, whether for political, environmental or financial reasons. Although a relatively small number were vegan, a larger number were trying to reduce the meat and dairy in their diet. This seemed an important discussion and I wanted to be a part of it.

At the time, many of the recipes being touted for vegans weren’t tempting. They didn’t make me hungry, anyway. Plant-based food was still in the shadows of its association with hemp-trouser-wearing hippies, or hijacked by the wellness brigade. It felt as though the pleasures of eating and the importance of flavour had been forgotten.

As an outsider, I thought I could be more inventive. I understood meat-eaters and knew the textures, flavours and “richness” they might miss. I had also spent two years writing a vegetarian Indian cookery book; I knew how to make bitter cavolo nero leaves sing and how to tempt a beetroot-hater into eating a plateful.

I began by looking beyond India to east and south-east Asia, finding new ways to shift vegetables from the side to the centre of the table. I had already travelled to Sri Lanka and eaten sublime beetroot and cashew curries. In Thailand, I had memorised every twist in the creation of som tam salad and counted down the minutes until my next pad thai. I had been soothed by my first congee in Hong Kong and had my taste buds electrified in London’s Chinatown by a bowl of dan dan noodles. I was hungry for more.

I also found that vegan constraints are a catalyst for creativity. Not cooking with meat, fish, dairy or eggs forced me to think in new ways. I discovered the wonderful world of the Asian larder: fermented, pickled and salted ingredients – kimchi, sweet miso and gochujang added flavour in an instant.

But veganism wasn’t my only constraint. I had much less time on my hands, now that I was a mum. This meant that elaborate dishes, or those that required too much time to prepare or cook, were left out. They didn’t make the cut for my Guardian column, or my new book.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Meera Sodha and her daughter, Arya. Photograph: David Loftus

The biggest limitation of the past two years was not being able to travel to the countries whose food I wanted to explore, as I had for my Indian cookbooks. My daughter was so young and I didn’t want to leave her. This time, I travelled by reading: I followed Fuchsia Dunlop around the streets of Chengdu and saw 90s Jakarta through Madhur Jaffrey’s eyes. When I ran out of books, I packed Arya and a notebook into a baby carrier and went on a food safari, to find the best laksa, bun cha or massaman curry in London.

I found that I could travel to Asia without travelling very far at all. I spoke to a friend, Ben, who is from Borneo, where Sarawak laksa is prized. I begged Wichet Khongphoon, the owner-chef of the Thai restaurant Supawan in central London, to show me how to make a tom kha gai soup; and Shuko Oda, the Japanese chef, to teach me how to make her walnut miso. I accosted home cooks on social media who had innocently posted photos of their breakfast, to ask them more about what they ate and how they made it.

I embarked on a virtual curry odyssey around India – from Punjab in the north to Mysore, the city that smells of sandalwood and yoga mats, in the south; to the neighbouring state of Kerala and its mild istoos (vegetables cooked in a ginger, chilli and coconut sauce) and east to Tamil Nadu where, between ancient carved temples and silk sari shops, you will find restaurants serving thakkali kuzhambu, a tomato curry cooked with tamarind, coconut and pickling spices such as mustard, fennel and cumin seeds.

I sailed across the Palk Strait to Sri Lanka, where lunch means a selection of curries each made from one main ingredient – beetroot, aubergine, pumpkin, cashew – served alongside a coconut dal (parippu). I travelled east to Thailand, and on to Japan, where the katsu curry bears little resemblance to anything I’ve eaten anywhere else.

And I converted to tofu. Until a couple of years ago, I was a tofu-denier. The dish that changed my mind was chilli tofu, shared with my father at his favourite bolthole, a canteen called Tangoe in Leicester. The tofu was crisp and chewy, giving way to a soft and creamy sponginess, and doused in a sweet, fiery sauce. This is living, I remember thinking – until we got to the last piece. Surely it’s the daughter who should have it, I said, but he decided it was the father’s right. We are still on speaking terms.

Here, then, are six new vegan and vegetarian recipes from my travels. I hope you enjoy.

Celery and peanut wontons with chilli soy sauce

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Food styling: Georgia Levy. Prop styling: Jen Kay. Photograph: David Loftus

Wonton wrappers can be found in Chinese or large supermarkets; the sauce is mainly made out of store-cupboard ingredients.

Makes 24 wontons (serves 4 to 6)

For the wontons

160g unsalted peanuts

800g celery, leaves reserved

4 tbsp rapeseed oil

4 cloves of garlic, crushed with 2 tbsp light soy sauce

24 wonton wrappers (or egg-free gyoza wrappers, if vegan), defrosted

For the chilli soy sauce

2 tbsp rapeseed oil

1 tbsp toasted sesame oil

4 tbsp light soy sauce

2 cloves of garlic, crushed

1 tsp chilli flakes

1½ tbsp white wine vinegar

2 spring onions, chopped

First, make the wonton filling. Place the peanuts in a food processor and blitz. Roughly chop the celery, then place in the food processor with the peanuts. Pulse until the pieces resemble coarse mince. Heat the rapeseed oil in a pan and, when hot, add the celery and peanut mixture. Cook for 15 to 20 minutes over a medium heat, stirring frequently to remove as much water as possible, then add the garlic and soy sauce and cook for a further 5 minutes. Take off the heat and leave to one side to cool.

To make the chilli soy sauce, place all the ingredients in a saucepan. Bring to the boil, then immediately take off the heat.

To fill the wontons, lay a wrapper in front of you in a diamond shape. Put 1½ tsp of filling into the centre. Brush the edges lightly with water and fold in half to form a triangle. Press down around the filling, then press outwards to seal it properly and place on a plate. Repeat.

To cook the wontons, drop batches of about six into a pan of boiling water for 5 minutes at a time, then drain. To serve, divide the wontons between the plates, drizzle some sauce over each portion, then scatter over some celery leaves.

Pistachio, pea and mint soba noodles

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Food styling: Emily Kydd. Prop styling: Jennifer Kay. Food styling assistant: Katy Gilhooly. Photograph: Louise Hagger/The Guardian

A real “welcome to summer” dish. All the freshness and lightness that hot weather demands, but with enough in there to keep tummies full. I like to use soba noodles made from buckwheat and wheat, as they are easier to handle, but you could use 100% buckwheat soba if you prefer.

Serves 2

50g pistachio kernels

1 bird’s-eye chilli, finely chopped

2 cloves of garlic, finely chopped

300g frozen petit pois, defrosted

25g fresh mint, leaves picked

3 tbsp lime juice (from 2 limes)

3½ tbsp toasted sesame oil

1⅓ tsp salt

200g soba noodles

120g mangetout

100g watercress, tough stems removed, chopped

Place the pistachios, chilli and garlic in a food processor and process until the pistachios have broken down. Add the peas, mint, lime juice, 3 tbsp of sesame oil and the salt, and pulse a few times (don’t blend: you don’t want soup).

Bring a large saucepan of water to the boil and, when bubbling, drop in the noodles. Stir and boil according to the instructions. Drain, refresh briefly under cold water and drain again in a sieve over a bowl. Coat with the remaining ½ tbsp of sesame oil, using your fingers, to make sure they don’t stick.

Set the same saucepan over a low heat and put a couple of tablespoons of water into the pan. When hot, add the mangetout. Stir-fry for 2 minutes, then add the watercress. Stir-fry for a minute until it wilts, then take the pan off the heat.

Place the noodles in a mixing bowl and add the vegetables. Mix with your hands, then tip on to a plate to serve.

Summer pilau with tomato, coconut and cashews

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Food styling: Georgia Levy. Prop styling: Jen Kay. Photograph: David Loftus

The tomatoes create a wonderful sauce with the coconut milk; they also float up to decorate the dish.

Serves 4 as a main course

350g basmati rice

2 tbsp rapeseed oil

12 fresh curry leaves (available in Asian or larger supermarkets)

4cm cinnamon stick

1 large onion, finely sliced

4 cloves of garlic, crushed

1 green finger chilli, finely sliced

50g unsalted cashews

400g baby plum tomatoes, halved

1 x 400ml tin of coconut milk

1¾ tsp salt

Wash the rice in a few changes of cold water, then leave to soak in plenty of cold water.

Meanwhile, heat the oil in a wide frying pan and add the curry leaves and cinnamon stick. Stir-fry for 1 minute, then add the onion and cook for 10 to 12 minutes, until it starts to turn golden brown and is soft. Add the garlic, chilli and cashews, and cook for a couple of minutes, then add the tomatoes and pop the lid on. Cook for about 8 minutes, until the tomatoes are soft.

Drain the rice, add it to the pan and stir to combine. Add the coconut milk, 200ml of water and the salt. Stir again and bring the mixture to the boil, then put the lid on, turn the heat down to a whisper and cook for a further 15 minutes. Don’t be tempted to lift the lid, as the steam is key to cooking the rice. After 15 minutes, take off the heat and keep the lid on for a further 10 minutes to let the rice rest before eating. Serve with a fresh green salad.

Vietnamese coconut pancakes

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Food styling: Georgia Levy. Prop styling: Jen Kay. Photograph: David Loftus

The Vietnamese are masters of the mouthwatering salad, elevating raw vegetables to heavenly places using a secret weapon, nuoc cham chay – a bright, hot, sweet-and-sour sauce that wakes up every neuron in your brain. Here the salad and its dressing are tucked into a deliciously crispy coconut and turmeric pancake.

Makes 6 pancakes

220g rice flour

¾ tsp salt

½ tsp ground turmeric

1 medium egg

400ml coconut milk

200g red cabbage (around ¼), finely shredded

2 slim carrots (150g), julienned

5 spring onions, finely chopped

40g fresh mixed herbs (Thai basil, coriander and mint), leaves picked and roughly chopped

5 tbsp lime juice (from 3 limes)

3½ tsp sugar

1½ tbsp light soy sauce

1½ bird’s-eye chillies, finely chopped

2 cloves of garlic, crushed

Rapeseed oil

First, make the batter for the pancakes: put the rice flour, salt, turmeric and egg into a bowl and mix together. Add the coconut milk and 175ml of water, whisk until you have a smooth batter, then leave to one side.

Next, place the cabbage, carrots, spring onions and herbs into another bowl and mix with your hands. Make the sauce by putting the lime juice, sugar, soy sauce, chillies and garlic into a jug or small bowl and mixing well. Pour two-thirds of this sauce over the veg and mix again using your hands. Pour the remaining third into a little serving bowl.

To make the pancakes, heat a teaspoon of oil in a large, non-stick frying pan over a medium flame and swirl it around the pan to coat. When the pan is very hot, pour in a ladleful of batter, swirling the pan quickly and carefully so that the batter reaches the edge. Cook for 2 to 3 minutes, until golden and crisp on the bottom (test this by sliding a palette knife under the pancake; if it lifts away easily, it’s ready). Slide on to a plate and repeat with the rest of the batter, until you have 6 pancakes. Your first one may not be perfect, but don’t lose faith: you will quickly get the hang of it.

To serve, place a small handful of the salad in the middle of the pancake and roll up. Serve with the extra sauce on the side.

Milli’s matcha roll cake with raspberries and cream

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Food styling: Georgia Levy. Prop styling: Jen Kay. Photograph: David Loftus

You will need a Swiss roll tin as close in size to 25cm x 35cm as you can find.

Serves 9 to 10

100g plain flour

2 tbsp matcha powder

1 tsp baking powder

Pinch of salt

4 large, fridge-cold eggs

120g caster sugar

150g raspberry jam

200ml double cream

20g icing sugar

100g fresh raspberries

Preheat the oven to 200C (180C fan)/400F/gas 6. Line your tin with non-stick baking paper, folding it tightly into the corners so the paper comes up the sides of the tray by 2cm.

Sift together the flour, matcha, baking powder and salt. Separate the whites of the eggs from the yolks into two large bowls and add the caster sugar to the yolks. Using an electric hand-mixer, whisk the egg whites into stiff peaks. Without cleaning the whisk, move on to the next bowl, whisking the yolks and caster sugar together for a couple of minutes until they double in volume, then stir the matcha flour mixture into the egg-yolk bowl.

Using a large spatula, fold the egg whites into the yolks, being careful not to knock out too much air. Pour the batter into the lined tin and use a spatula to level the top. Tap the tray to release any air bubbles, then bake for 12 minutes, or until the sponge springs back to the touch.

Take the cake out of the oven and leave to rest for exactly one minute, then place a sheet of baking paper over the top, followed by a large chopping board. Using oven gloves, turn the cake over and gently remove the tray. Carefully peel off the now top piece of baking paper and replace with a new sheet just slightly larger than the cake.

Gently turn the cake back over again and pop it back into the tin.

Take a sharp knife and, at one of the short ends of the cake, score a mark 2cm in, all the way along the width of the cake. Tuck that end of parchment over that edge of the cake and begin to loosely roll the sponge from one short end to the other, rolling the baking parchment with it. Transfer your roll to a cooling rack with the seam on the bottom. Loosely cover with a clean tea towel and leave to cool for 30 minutes.

When cool, carefully unroll and spread the jam over the sponge, right to the edges. Whisk the double cream and the icing sugar together until you have soft peaks, then, leaving a 2cm border all around the sides, spread the cream on top of the jam so it is 1cm thick. Scatter over the raspberries and gently press them into the cream. Lifting the parchment at the scored end, roll the sponge up again fairly tightly (but without squeezing out the cream). Place on a tray, with the seam at the bottom, and transfer to the fridge for a couple of hours.

When you are ready to serve, cut the roll into 9 or 10 even slices. This will keep in the fridge for two days, but is best eaten that day.

Cardamom kheer

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Food styling: Georgia Levy. Prop styling: Jen Kay. Photograph: David Loftus

I take a bite of this sweet rice pudding and I am back at my parents’ house at Diwali. Arya is 18 months old, shrieking with laughter. One more spoonful and she’s six months old and learning to eat; she doesn’t wrinkle her nose at a simple kheer made with apples. A couple more spoonfuls and it’s 2015, I’m in Mumbai, it’s 2am and my husband Hugh has just arrived. I’ve been away for weeks, and now he’s here the kheer tastes like sweet celebration. Another spoonful and I’m six, struggling to fit in at a new school. I don’t tell Mum, but perhaps she knows because there’s kheer for pudding and it tastes like home.

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Serves 4

100g basmati rice

1 tsp ground cardamom

½ tsp ground cinnamon

90g caster sugar, plus 1 tbsp to decorate

700ml whole milk, plus extra if needed

150ml double cream

20g unsalted pistachios

1½ tbsp dried edible flowers

(such as marigolds, roses or lavender)

Place the rice, spices, sugar, milk and cream in a large saucepan and set over a medium/low heat. Bring to the boil – but watch it doesn’t boil over – then turn the heat down to a whisper and cook for about 30 minutes, stirring fairly frequently to make sure the rice doesn’t stick and burn. If the mixture is getting too dry, add more milk, a little at a time. When the rice is nearly done, it will start to bubble and burp more furiously and will need more attention. When the rice is tender (ie there is no chalkiness in the centre), take it off the heat and spoon into a serving bowl. Allow to cool, then cover and chill in the fridge until cold.

Just before serving, grind the remaining tablespoon of sugar, the pistachios and the edible flowers as finely as you can, using a mortar and pestle or an electric spice grinder. Sprinkle over the top and serve.

• This is an edited extract from East: 120 Vegan And Vegetarian Recipes From Bangalore To Beijing by Meera Sodha (Penguin, £20). To order a copy for £15, go to guardianbookshop.com or call 0330 333 6846

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