Rohan is six weeks old. The pediatrician says he's thriving — 95th percentile for weight (he eats like he's afraid the milk will run out) and 90th for length. He is, statistically, a large baby. He is, experientially, a VERY large baby. My arms know the difference between Anaya at six weeks (delicate, precise) and Rohan at six weeks (substantial, vigorous).
He smiled this week. The real smile, not gas — confirmed by the fact that it happened while I was singing (badly) and not while he was digesting. Raj was in the room and saw it and said, "He smiled!" with the excitement of a man experiencing his second child's first smile as if it were his first child's.
The smile changes things. Before the smile, the baby is a project — feed, burp, change, soothe. After the smile, the baby is a person. A person who responds to your face, your voice, your singing (however bad). A person who is choosing to engage with the world.
I go back to work in six weeks. The leave is shorter this time (twelve weeks vs. fourteen with Anaya) and the book deadline is approaching and everything is happening at once, the way everything always happens. Not sequentially. Simultaneously.
The book: I wrote the last chapter this week. Chapter fourteen. The Alzheimer's chapter. Written at 3 AM, in the rocking chair, with Rohan asleep on my chest and the leather journal open beside me.
The chapter is about Amma's sambar — how it has stayed constant while everything else has changed. How the recipe hasn't moved even though her mind has. How the cooking is the last fortress, the thing the disease reaches for last, the deep muscle memory that holds when everything else lets go.
The chapter ends with the sentence: "My mother measures in handfuls. One day she may forget the measurements. But the food will remember her. And so will I."
I cried while writing it. I cry every time I read it. But it's done. The book is done.
Seventy-five thousand words. Fourteen chapters. One mother's kitchen. One daughter's record.
Enough.
I finished the last chapter of this book writing about sambar — about Amma’s hands, her handfuls, her deep muscle memory that the disease reaches for last. When it was done, I needed something that tasted like her kitchen without requiring me to stand over a stove at 3 AM with a sleeping baby on my chest. Chai has always been the other constant in that kitchen — the thing she made first thing every morning, the smell that meant home before I even opened my eyes. These popsicles are not her recipe. But they carry the same spices, the same warmth, and right now, that is enough — a small, cold, cardamom-sweet celebration of seventy-five thousand words finally done.
(Super) Easy Chai Popsicles
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 10 min | Total Time: 4 hrs 25 min (includes freeze time) | Servings: 6 popsicles
Ingredients
- 2 cups whole milk (or full-fat coconut milk for a dairy-free version)
- 1/2 cup heavy cream
- 3 black tea bags
- 3 tablespoons honey (or sugar, to taste)
- 1 teaspoon ground cardamom
- 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
- 1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
- 1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
- 1 pinch of freshly ground black pepper
Instructions
- Warm the base. Combine milk and heavy cream in a small saucepan over medium heat. Heat until the mixture just begins to steam and simmer at the edges — do not boil.
- Steep the tea. Remove from heat. Add tea bags and all spices (cardamom, cinnamon, ginger, cloves, black pepper). Let steep for 5 to 7 minutes, pressing the tea bags gently with a spoon once or twice to deepen the flavor.
- Sweeten and strain. Remove tea bags without squeezing them dry (to avoid bitterness). Stir in honey until fully dissolved. Taste and adjust sweetness as needed. Pour the mixture through a fine-mesh sieve into a measuring cup or pitcher to remove any loose spice particles.
- Cool the mixture. Let the chai base cool to room temperature, about 15 to 20 minutes. You can speed this up by setting the pitcher in a bowl of ice water.
- Fill the molds. Pour the cooled chai mixture evenly into 6 popsicle molds, leaving a small gap at the top for expansion. Insert popsicle sticks.
- Freeze. Transfer molds to the freezer and freeze for at least 4 hours, or overnight for best results.
- Unmold and serve. To release, run the outside of each mold briefly under warm water for 10 to 15 seconds, then gently pull the stick. Serve immediately or wrap individually in parchment and store in a zip-close bag in the freezer for up to 2 weeks.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 110 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 7g | Carbs: 10g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 30mg
About the cook who shared this
Priya Krishnamurthy
Week 281 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.