What if the flatbread on your plate today carries with it the story of ancient civilizations, migration, and generational memory? Roti (or rotli, depending on where you’re from) may look like a humble flatbread, but its journey across time and continents reveals a rich history of adaptation, resilience, and cultural exchange. From open-fire kitchens in ancient South Asia to pre-packaged options in international grocery stores, roti has evolved, and yet it continues to serve as a symbol of connection, comfort, and identity. The story of roti isn’t just about food, it is about what we keep, what we adapt, and how we feed memory.

Roti is not just a food item because it’s a cultural artifact, shaped by necessity, trade, geography, and migration. Its origins can be traced back to the Indus Valley Civilization (c. 3300–1300 BCE), where early agricultural societies cultivated grains like wheat and barley. Flatbreads were likely one of the first prepared foods, requiring minimal ingredients and adaptable cooking methods. Over centuries, roti became a staple across South Asia, particularly in India, Pakistan, and Bangladesh, where it was traditionally made by hand, cooked on a tawa (a flat iron pan), and eaten fresh alongside vegetables, lentils, or curries. But its story doesn’t stop there. Flatbreads similar to roti appear in many cultures like Middle Eastern khubz, Turkish yufka and Ethiopian injera. Each variation reflects local ingredients and cooking styles. Even the word “roti” appears in languages across regions, hinting at how trade and colonization spread this simple dish far beyond its original home.

Like many food traditions, roti has adapted with time. In earlier generations, preparing roti involved grinding flour by hand, mixing dough, and shaping each piece with care, which is a process that was as much about ritual and rhythm as it was about sustenance. As societies urbanized and daily life grew busier, this labor-intensive tradition gradually gave way to quicker, more industrialized methods. A New York Times article notes that the humble roti has been "reshaped" into a global product, mass-produced, vacuum-packed, frozen, and ready-to-eat. Today, you’ll find roti in major supermarkets, corner shops, and even fast-food chains. This transition reflects more than just technological change; it shows how food culture responds to globalization, time constraints, and accessibility. And while some mourn the loss of “authenticity,” others see this as a way to keep cultural food traditions alive, even in new forms.

Roti didn’t just stay in South Asia; it traveled with people. In the Caribbean, particularly in Trinidad and Guyana, indentured laborers from India brought roti-making traditions with them during British colonial rule. Over generations, it evolved into unique regional dishes like the West Indian “roti wrap”, where the flatbread is used as a wrap filled with curries or vegetables. Today, Caribbean roti shops thrive in cities like Toronto, London, and New York, showing how migration transforms recipes while keeping memory intact. 

Growing up, making roti wasn’t just cooking, it was more like a ritual of love and lineage. My great-grandmother would gather the family in the kitchen, her hands covered in flour, the tawa heating nearby. The smell of freshly made dough filled the house, and the rhythm of her rolling pin became a kind of music with soft, steady, rounding. She never measured anything. It was all by feel, by memory, by instinct. Making roti was her way of keeping history alive, one piece at a time.

The conversation around food availability is tricky. On one hand, making roti from scratch connects us to our roots. On the other, pre-made options offer accessibility, especially for those without the time, tools, or generational knowledge to make it by hand. The key is: Whether you’re cooking with a rolling pin or peeling open a vacuum-sealed package, do you remember where this food comes from? Do you honor its story? Food is a living tradition. It evolves because people do.

The evolution of roti reminds us that food is not fixed. It bends, stretches, and reshapes, just like the dough itself, to fit the needs of the people making it. Feel free to dive into the journey of food evolution and its continued presence in kitchens around the globe by checking out my personal experiences from my recipe blog turned to book.