A large focus of the conversation around the dining table at home is food. Or rather the food that will be consumed in subsequent meals.
"Churma na laadoo," dad ventures. They have been a paryushan special in my house for as long as I can remember. Paryushan, is the 8-day period of abstinence for Jains. It calls for a sacrifice of many meal staples like all vegetables, intoxicants, etc depending on every individual's chosen level of abstinence. But, it is not possible to abstain without distraction through indulgence. Thus, the discussion on laadoos.
Mom's response is a groan, albeit a suppressed one. Requests from dad, especially the culinary kind, are rare so she wants to indulge. But laadoos are a tiresome task.
"I'll make them," I offer.
The yellow orange tome on my bookshelf is brought down - Dadimano Vaarso (Grandmother's Legacy). A collection of recipes passed down verbally were compiled by those with foresight. The recipes are in Gujarati and English and quantities which were once measured by sight and fists have been converted to American cup and spoon sizes.
I run through the recipe with mom.
"That's how Ba used to make them," dad says, misty-eyed. There is some nostalgia there. But, it is also not a very veiled remark at mom's recipe which is appreciated every year but not pedastalled next to Ba's.
With the tome opened up on the kitchen counter, I get to work. Ingredients are combined, cooked, smashed only to be combined again. The aroma of fried dough and jaggery combined with saffron and elaichi pulls wandering family members into the kitchen for a nibble at the work-in-progress. After 90 minutes of labouring and some consultations with mom, 20 fairly well-shaped laddoos are ready.
They are not perfect. The jaggery is a tad in excess. I blame the sister-in-law who siphoned away several bits of fried dough to munch on with her tea, and thus threw my proportions askew. The ghee is a bit in excess too. Better than than too dry I reason. The no-longer-little, littlest one licks her fingers with a grin and a 'tres bien'. I accept the compliment with a flying kiss and shoo away the barb that the compliment is more to do with her restricted French vocab than the taste test.
But, I am not too disappointed by the critique. After all, no legacy worth its salt can be claimed at first attempt.
