Paprika Tokri

Paprika Tokri Paprika Tokri
Living | Kitchen | Studio | Table

Slow living. Intentional creation. Thoughtful consumption. From our Delhi farm with love. Made just for you.

Hand-poured candles, intimate supper clubs & farm-grown stories. Hand Poured and individually cured fragrant candles, which are meticulously tested and studied. A “Tokri” of Joy, Light & Spice

The holiday is over, and it’s time to get back to what we love doing most: hosting another supper club.This time, we’re ...
06/08/2026

The holiday is over, and it’s time to get back to what we love doing most: hosting another supper club.

This time, we’re exploring the bright, generous flavours of Vietnam.

Expect fire-grilled prawns, crisp mini bánh xèo, fragrant claypot rice, house drinks, vanilla ice cream with salted caramel and roasted coconut, and plenty more to pass around the table.

15 August 2026 · 7:30 PM
Paprika Tokri Farm, Jonapur

Seating is limited. Book through the link in bio.

Can’t wait to have you over for dinner.

We’ve been away for a few weeks, chasing good food with family. The kind of trip where breakfast was still being talked ...
05/08/2026

We’ve been away for a few weeks, chasing good food with family. The kind of trip where breakfast was still being talked about at dinner.

We ate our way through markets, side streets and kitchens smaller than ours. There were generous family tables, seafood by the water, and an evening at a centuries-old inn outside Baltimore, where beautifully precise French-American food arrived one thoughtful course at a time.

Some of those flavours, techniques and ideas are already finding their way into what we are planning next.

Our next supper club is on 15 August. Seats open tonight.

Want to be the first to know? Join Letters from the Farm, our newsletter. Link in bio.

07/07/2026

So before monsoon, we go back through every swale on the farm and work through it properly. Clear the debris and sediment sitting at the bottom. Trim back vegetation that’s grown in and could block the flow or make water pool somewhere it shouldn’t. Check the berms, the downhill mounds that hold the water in, and make sure they’re still stable and well compacted, not soft or breaking down. Check every inlet and outlet where the swale connects to another catchment area, because a single blockage there can back the whole system up. And in the stretches where runoff moves fast, we lay down heavy mulch or weigh it with rocks, so the topsoil doesn’t wash away before new roots have a chance to hold it.

The first real rain came not long after. We watched the swales fill, hold, and actually do their job.

None of this is glamorous. It’s the part of farm water work nobody sees in the finished photos, the seasonal maintenance that decides whether two-year-old infrastructure still does its job this year. Built once doesn’t mean done. It means due for a check.

Want more of what’s actually happening on the land? Letters from the Farm is where it all gets documented first.

Link in bio.

06/07/2026

Bitter melon was the vegetable none of us asked for as kids. Someone’s mother swore it was good for you, someone’s grandmother swore by it for something else entirely, and every plate came with a small negotiation.

In the PT kitchen, we finally stopped fighting the bitterness and started cooking with it. Goya champuru, stir-fried with egg, a little pork or tofu, and enough heat to let the bitterness sit alongside everything else instead of against it. Ours came straight off the farm, in season right now.

Some flavours take a few decades to make sense.

This one finally did.

We send a recipe like this out once a month in the newsletter, along with what’s actually happening on the farm and the table. Sign up and it’ll be the first place the August supper club details land too.

Link in bio.

04/07/2026

Everyone pictures slow living as calm.

Linen, soft light, a cup of tea in the garden.

Fewer people picture the 6 a.m. water system failure, or being exhausted and sunburnt with four things still left to do before dark.

Building this life has been the least slow thing I have ever done.

Slow living is not the absence of effort. It is what is left after the effort has been done properly.

The calm people see is the result, not the process.

And we are still very much in the process.

Most days, still 🙂.

03/07/2026

We poured water onto a patch of the farm and watched it just sit there. Move sideways. Pool in the wrong place. Not sink in.

That’s compacted soil, and it’s a different problem from dry soil. Dry soil wants water. Compacted soil physically cannot take it in, even when the water is right there in front of it.

Here’s what’s actually happening underground. Healthy soil has structure, tiny air pockets and channels built up by organic matter, root systems, and microbial activity, that let water move down through it. When soil gets compacted, walked on, dried out repeatedly, stripped of organic matter, those channels collapse. The surface seals up. Water that lands on it has nowhere to go but sideways, which is runoff.

This matters most right before monsoon. A good monsoon can still fail a farm if the ground underneath it can’t absorb what falls. The rain comes, runs off the hardest patches, and the farm ends up no better off than before, sometimes worse, because runoff also carries topsoil away with it.

So this is what monsoon prep actually looks like for us right now: not just waiting for rain, but rebuilding the soil’s ability to receive it. We’re working gobar khaad and other organic matter into the hardest patches, mulching to protect the surface from resealing, and loosening the top layer gradually rather than tilling it all at once, which can actually make compaction worse.

We’re watching how each patch responds before deciding the next move. Some sections are absorbing better already. Others need more time.

This is the same water and soil work behind everything else we grow here, and part of why the farm has slowly built toward real water self-sufficiency over the past few seasons.

20/06/2026

Delhi heat did not just make us uncomfortable. It stressed the plants, dried the soil faster, increased water demand, and made the farm harder to keep alive.

Here is what unshaded land did in a Delhi summer:

Soil surface temperatures reached 50 degrees or more
Plants lost water through leaves faster than roots could replace it
Young trees and seedlings struggled to establish
Water put in evaporated before it did its job

So we built shade.

Here is how:

- Planted trees in layers, tall canopy, mid-level, ground cover
- Mulched tree basins to keep root zones cool
- Grew creepers along walls and fences to block reflected heat
- Protected young trees until they were large enough to shade each other

The farm is not fully shaded yet. That is the honest truth. But this is what we have been building toward, a cooler, more resilient piece of land that needs less water because it holds what it gets.

Follow for more from the farm.

18/06/2026

Three years ago we were surviving on water tankers. We live in an area with no government water supply, and our groundwater had dropped so low our well was nearly gone.
We couldn’t dig new wells. We couldn’t wait for rain and hope for the best. So we started doing the small, unglamorous things that actually work.
Here is what we did:
* Tilled the land every monsoon to break up compacted earth and increase water absorption
* Built swales and trenches at the ends of every slope to slow water down and let it sink in
* Dug percolation pits across the property
* Built a percolation trench running around the entire farm
* Mulched everything with at least six inches of leaves collected through the year
* Grew cover crops to hold moisture in the soil
In the past eleven months, we have not bought a single water tanker.
None of this is complicated. None of it requires a large farm. Percolation pits, mulching, and cover crops work in a home garden, a terrace, even a small plot in the city. Water scarcity is not only a rural problem.
This is what permaculture and natural farming actually look like in practice. Not an aesthetic. A necessity.

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Delhi

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Monday 9am - 5pm
Tuesday 9am - 5pm
Wednesday 9am - 5pm
Thursday 9am - 5pm
Friday 9am - 5pm
Saturday 9am - 5pm
Sunday 9am - 5pm

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