It was Tanmoy’s birthday last week, so I was in a celebratory mood. After all, his birthday means that for the next 11 months, we can both quote the same age when asked (yes, I am whole month older than him… GASP!) Just to be contrary, he was in as non-celebratory a mood as anyone could possibly be for their own birthday. So I was having a tough time figuring out how to celebrate without really celebrating.
My Ma-in-law made the decision making slightly easier by saying I should make Payesh (a lip-smacking-spoon-licking-inducing rice pudding very well liked by the Bengalis and indeed by anyone who ever gets to eat it). Then Tanmoy asked for a Strawberry Cake (and warned me not to tell anyone because sweet pink cakes are for little girls but I am telling anyway because I think everyone has a right to like pink cakes), so the sweets were take care of. But I still needed to figure out what the main dish would be – it had to special and sumptuous, something that would warm your belly and make you smile for sometime after you’d finished eating, something that inherently made you feel good about being alive, something that would make even a husband in the most non-celebratory mood (silently) thank his stars that his wife was of a different opinion.
After rejecting many recipes already in my repertoire (I wasn’t experimenting for this occassion) I suddenly remembered this one. Continue reading