Cashew Rice Pilaf

Rohan is two weeks old. He has already established that he is a fundamentally different baby than Anaya. Where Anaya was quiet from the start — observing, evaluating, the little scientist — Rohan is LOUD. He cries with his whole body. He nurses aggressively. He sleeps heavily and wakes violently. He is Arvind at this age, according to Amma, which is both accurate and mildly terrifying. "This one is like your brother," Amma said, holding Rohan on her shoulder while he wailed. "Your brother cried from morning to night. I thought something was wrong with him. Nothing was wrong. He was just loud." "Arvind was loud?" "Arvind was a foghorn in a diaper." This is the funniest thing Amma has ever said and I'm writing it in the leather journal under "Things Amma Says That Must Be Preserved." Anaya is adjusting. She's moved from suspicious to curious to mildly possessive — she tells visitors, "That's MY baby brother," with the emphasis on MY, as if she personally produced him. She also helps. "Helps" meaning she brings me diapers (the right ones, most of the time), sings to Rohan when he cries ("Twinkle Twinkle" in Tamil, which sometimes works), and reports his status with medical precision: "Amma, baby is crying." "Amma, baby pooped." "Amma, baby is sleeping DO NOT WAKE HIM." The last one, delivered in a fierce whisper, was the most parenting Anaya has done to date. I cooked for the first time since the birth — a simple dal, the same first-post-baby dish as with Anaya. One pot, one burner, fifteen minutes. The act of standing at the stove, stirring, tasting — even for fifteen minutes — felt like reclaiming myself. Rohan was in the bouncer. He watched me cook with the unfocused gaze of a newborn whose eyes are still calibrating. But he watched. The same way Anaya watched. The kitchen, teaching without trying. The dal was fine. Not special. But mine. Made by my hands, in my kitchen, while my son watched for the first time. First meal. First watching. The beginning, again.

The dal I made that day was whatever I had — simple, unadorned, just enough to feel like myself again — and I paired it with a rice pilaf I’ve been making for years when I need something warm and low-effort: cashews toasted in a little butter, rice cooked in broth, done before Rohan could work himself into a full cry. It’s the kind of recipe that asks almost nothing of you, which is exactly right for those first weeks when you have almost nothing to give. If you’re in that season — postpartum, exhausted, needing one good thing on a plate — this is it.

Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 25 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups long-grain white rice
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/2 cup whole cashews
1 small yellow onion, finely diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 3/4 cups low-sodium chicken or vegetable broth
1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
2 tablespoons fresh parsley or cilantro, chopped (optional)

Instructions

Toast the cashews. Melt butter in a medium saucepan over medium heat. Add cashews and cook, stirring often, for 2—3 minutes until golden. Remove cashews with a slotted spoon and set aside, leaving the butter in the pan.
Sauté the aromatics. Add the diced onion to the same pan and cook over medium heat for 3—4 minutes until softened. Add garlic and cook for 30 seconds more, stirring so it doesn’t burn.
Toast the rice. Add the dry rice to the pan and stir to coat in the butter and onion mixture. Cook for 1—2 minutes, stirring, until the rice smells faintly nutty.
Add broth and simmer. Pour in the broth and add salt and pepper. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer for 15—18 minutes until the liquid is absorbed and the rice is tender.
Rest and finish. Remove from heat and let sit, covered, for 5 minutes. Fluff with a fork, then fold in the toasted cashews and fresh herbs if using. Taste and adjust salt.

Nutrition (per serving)

Cashew Rice Pilaf — The First Meal I Made With Rohan Watching