Desserts

Gokul Pithe

A mellow winter morning. I lie on Grandmas ancient four-poster, cocooned in the warmth of a patchwork ...

Playing with dough is my favourite pastime these days. I tear a frugal bit from the ball of dough Didi has ...

The Zachariahs lived in a sprawling mansion in a leafy cul-de-sac, a brisk five minute walk from the hustle ...

Nothing gives this grown-up girl more joy on a mellow honey-sunshine-blessed winter afternoon than ...

A disciplined row of custard apples rests on my kitchen counter. Luscious and plump, from a farm, not far ...

It's the crack of dawn. Goubert Avenue and the fabled French Quarters of Pondicherry still hide behind a ...

Who would have ever imagined a rustic Pirali Brahmin girl, from a nondescript village in far-flung Jessore, ...

A listless sun glares down on a parched earth. An ominous lull. Not even bird song greets my fatigued soul. ...

A honey sunshine morning. A verdant green hillock of shelled pea pods stands in front of Didi, fatigued ...

Grandma is not addicted to her paan. (betel leaf) It's only those time-stops-still afternoons, once, maybe ...

Winter is fading away. Silently. On hushed tiptoes. The enigma of the mist over the lake no longer greets my ...

I yield to temptation yet again this honey-mellow winter morning. Of cooking with oranges. Plump luscious ...