Cardamom Carrots — The Spice That Carries Her Name

Anaya said her first word. Or rather, she said her first word-like-sound that is close enough to a word that we're counting it. "Amma." She said it on Tuesday, sitting in her high chair, reaching for me while I heated her dinner. "Am-ma." Two syllables. Clear enough that Raj, across the room, looked up from his phone and said, "Did she just—" "She said Amma." "She said Amma." We looked at each other. We looked at Anaya. She said it again — "Am-ma" — and reached for me with both hands and I picked her up and held her and my first thought, my very first thought, was: Amma. Not me-as-Amma. The original Amma. Lakshmi. The woman whose name for "mother" is now my daughter's first word. The chain, unbroken, traveling through Tamil from a village in India to a kitchen in Edison. I called Amma. "Anaya said her first word." "What did she say?" "Amma." Silence. The specific silence of a woman who is feeling something enormous and will not name it. "She called you Amma," Amma said finally. "She called me Amma. But the word is yours too. She's calling for all the Ammas." More silence. Then: "Teach her to say Paati next." Paati — grandmother. I'll work on it. Though Anaya is currently also saying "ba-ba" and "da-da" and "guh" and showing no particular loyalty to any linguistic tradition. Raj, for the record, is devastated that her first word was not "Papa" or "Dada" or any Raj-related sound. He's handling it with the quiet dignity of a man who has been outranked by his wife in his daughter's linguistic hierarchy. "She'll say Papa next," I told him. "You don't know that." "I do. Because I'll teach her." "That's cheating." "That's parenting." I made Amma's kootu to celebrate — chayote squash with moong dal and coconut. The dish I make when I want to cook something of hers, something that tastes like Sunday at her house, something that carries the word "Amma" in every spoonful. First word. Am-ma. The beginning of language. The beginning of naming the world. And the first name she chose was the oldest name of all.

I had planned to make Amma’s chayote kootu — the dish I always reach for when I want her in the kitchen with me — but I was out of chayote, and Anaya was still saying “Am-ma” from her high chair, and I was crying a little, and the carrots were right there. So I made these cardamom carrots instead, because cardamom is the scent of every dessert Amma ever made, every chai she handed me without asking if I wanted one, every Sunday I spent sitting at her kitchen table. It was close enough. It was, honestly, perfect.

Cardamom Carrots

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 25 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 1 lb carrots, peeled and sliced into 1/4-inch rounds
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 1 tablespoon honey
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom
• 1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/8 teaspoon black pepper
• 1 tablespoon fresh orange juice
• 1 teaspoon orange zest (optional, for finishing)

Instructions

1. Cook the carrots. Bring a medium saucepan of lightly salted water to a boil. Add the sliced carrots and cook for 6—8 minutes, until just tender but not mushy. Drain and set aside.
2. Make the glaze. In the same saucepan over medium heat, melt the butter. Stir in the honey, cardamom, cinnamon, salt, and pepper. Cook for about 1 minute, stirring constantly, until the mixture is fragrant and slightly bubbling.
3. Combine. Add the drained carrots back to the pan and toss to coat evenly in the glaze. Pour in the orange juice and stir gently. Cook for another 2—3 minutes, allowing the glaze to thicken and cling to the carrots.
4. Finish and serve. Transfer to a serving dish. Scatter orange zest over the top if using. Serve warm as a side dish alongside rice, lentils, or whatever else your kitchen calls for.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 110 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 6g | Carbs: 15g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 190mg