Navaratri. The sixth one since I started writing. The pandemic version — no temple gatherings, no community visits, no kolu viewing parties. Just Amma's house, closed to visitors, the seventy-four dolls arranged for an audience of two: Amma and Appa.
I FaceTimed her during the kolu setup. She held the phone so I could see each step — the nine tiers, the dolls placed with precision, the tiny Chennai doll at the top. She talked me through the arrangement as if I were there, as if the screen were a doorway instead of a wall.
"Krishna goes here. Saraswati here. The elephant — wait, where is the elephant?"
She couldn't find the elephant. She'd been arranging this kolu for thirty-five years. She'd placed the elephant in the same position for thirty-five years. And now she couldn't find it.
Appa found it — in the box, under the cotton wrapping, where it always is. "Here," he said, handing it to her. She took it, looked at it, and placed it. In the right spot. The same spot.
But the looking. The moment of not knowing. The hesitation before the placement.
Twenty-two out of thirty.
I made sundal at home — nine types, one for each day, because Navaratri demands nine sundals even in a pandemic. I made them in my kitchen, following the recipes I learned from watching Amma, and I sent Arvind to deliver three containers to her doorstep because if I can't make sundal WITH her, I can at least make sundal FOR her.
Anaya helped with the sundal — she counted chickpeas into a bowl. "One, two, three, four, five, many!" ("Many" is her word for any number above five, which is mathematically imprecise but emotionally accurate.)
Navaratri. Nine nights. Nine sundals. Seventy-four dolls. One elephant that was briefly lost.
The festivals continue. The cooking continues. The forgetting continues.
All of it continues.
Of all nine sundals I made that Navaratri, the chickpea one was the one Anaya counted into the bowl — one, two, three, four, five, many — and somehow that made it the most important. If you’ve never made sundal and want to start somewhere, start here: spiced roasted chickpeas are the everyday cousin of festival sundal, plant-based and naturally vegan, and they travel well in a container left on a doorstep. They’re the kind of thing you make not because the occasion is ordinary, but because the person on the other side of the door is not.
Best Plant-Based Vegan Snacks: Spiced Roasted Chickpeas
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 45 minutes | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- 2 cans (15 oz each) chickpeas, drained, rinsed, and patted very dry
- 2 tablespoons coconut oil or neutral oil, melted
- 1 teaspoon cumin
- 1 teaspoon coriander
- 1/2 teaspoon turmeric
- 1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
- 1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper (or to taste)
- 3/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
- 1 teaspoon mustard seeds (optional, for a sundal nod)
- 2 tablespoons fresh or dried shredded coconut, for serving
- 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice, for serving
Instructions
- Preheat and dry. Preheat your oven to 400°F (200°C). Spread the rinsed chickpeas on a clean kitchen towel and pat them as dry as possible — moisture is the enemy of crunch. Let them air-dry for 5 minutes while the oven heats.
- Season. Transfer the dry chickpeas to a large bowl. Drizzle with the melted oil and toss to coat. Add the cumin, coriander, turmeric, smoked paprika, cayenne, and salt. Toss again until every chickpea is evenly coated.
- Roast. Spread the chickpeas in a single layer on a rimmed baking sheet. Roast for 30–35 minutes, shaking the pan halfway through, until deep golden and crisp. They will continue to crisp as they cool.
- Toast the mustard seeds (optional). While the chickpeas are in their last 5 minutes, heat a small dry skillet over medium heat. Add the mustard seeds and swirl until they begin to pop, about 1 minute. Remove from heat immediately.
- Finish and serve. Transfer the roasted chickpeas to a bowl. Add the toasted mustard seeds if using, the shredded coconut, and a squeeze of fresh lemon juice. Toss gently and taste for salt. Serve warm or at room temperature. Store leftovers in an open-top bowl (not an airtight container) to preserve crunch for up to 2 days.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 210 | Protein: 9g | Fat: 8g | Carbs: 27g | Fiber: 7g | Sodium: 380mg
About the cook who shared this
Priya Krishnamurthy
Week 234 of Priya’s 30-year story
· Edison, New Jersey
Priya is a pharmacist, wife, and mom of two in Edison, New Jersey — the town she grew up in, surrounded by the sights and smells of her mother's South Indian kitchen. These days, she splits her time between the hospital pharmacy, school pickups, and her own kitchen, where she cooks nearly every night. Her style is a blend of the Tamil recipes her mother taught her and the American comfort food her kids actually want to eat. She writes about the beautiful mess of balancing two cultures on one plate — and she wants you to know that ordering pizza is also an act of love.