The week between Christmas and New Year's — the liminal week, the week that doesn't count, the week where time is suspended and nobody knows what day it is and you eat leftovers in your pajamas until society resumes.
Except I can't stop thinking about Amma and the coffee.
I called Arvind on Tuesday. "Did you notice? At Christmas?"
"The coffee thing?"
"Yes."
Long pause. "Yeah. I noticed."
"And the cinnamon in October."
"Akka, she's sixty-three. People forget things."
"People forget where they put their keys. They don't forget how to make coffee they've been making for forty years."
Another long pause. Arvind is not the sibling who processes through words. He processes through silence, and then action. "What do you want to do?" he asked.
"I want Appa to take her to the doctor."
"Good luck with that."
He's right. Getting Appa to discuss health — anyone's health — is like getting Amma to admit that store-bought sambar powder is acceptable. It violates something fundamental in his operating system.
I haven't told Raj yet. Not because he wouldn't understand — he's a cardiologist, he knows cognitive decline when he sees it — but because saying it out loud to a doctor makes it medical. Makes it real. Right now it's just two moments. Two data points. Not enough for anything.
But I'm a pharmacist. I know about data points. I know that two becomes three becomes a pattern becomes a diagnosis. I know what the early signs look like. I know the medications that exist and how little they do. I know.
So I did what I always do when I'm afraid: I cooked.
New Year's Eve dinner, just Raj and me. I made a feast that was absurdly ambitious for two people: Amma's mutton biryani (the whole production — marinating overnight, layering the rice and meat, sealing the pot with dough, slow-cooking for an hour), raita with pomegranate seeds, mirchi ka salan (the spicy peanut-sesame gravy that's traditionally served with biryani), and gulab jamun for dessert.
Raj walked into the kitchen at 6 PM and found every surface covered. "Are we having a party I wasn't told about?"
"It's New Year's Eve."
"There are two of us."
"And there will be leftovers."
We ate at 9 PM. The biryani was magnificent — layered, fragrant, the meat falling apart. Raj ate three helpings. At midnight, we stood on the apartment balcony in our coats and watched distant fireworks and I thought about my mother standing at her stove, forgetting the word for cinnamon, forgetting how long coffee drips, and I held Raj's hand and felt the old year end and the new year begin and the terrible thing that might be starting.
"Happy New Year," Raj said.
"Happy New Year," I said.
Please let it be nothing. Please let her just be tired.
The mutton biryani that night was a full-day labor of love — the kind of cook that only makes sense when you need your hands busy and your mind anchored to something real. But when the craving for those warm Indian spices comes back mid-week and you don’t have six hours to spare, these Grilled Tandoori Chicken Patties have become my answer: all the smoky, fragrant heat of the tandoor, done in under an hour. The jalapeno mint yogurt sauce is my nod to the raita I served that New Year’s Eve — cool and bright against the fire of the spices, the kind of contrast that makes a plate feel complete.
Grilled Tandoori Chicken Patties with Jalapeno Mint Yogurt Sauce
Prep Time: 20 min (plus 30 min marinating) | Cook Time: 14 min | Total Time: ~1 hr | Servings: 4
Ingredients
- For the Patties:
- 1 1/4 lb ground chicken (or finely minced boneless chicken thighs)
- 1/3 cup plain whole-milk yogurt
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 tsp fresh ginger, grated
- 1 1/2 tsp tandoori masala (store-bought or homemade)
- 1 tsp smoked paprika
- 1/2 tsp ground cumin
- 1/2 tsp ground coriander
- 1/4 tsp turmeric
- 1/4 tsp cayenne pepper (adjust to taste)
- 1 tbsp fresh lemon juice
- 3/4 tsp kosher salt
- 2 tbsp finely chopped fresh cilantro
- 1 tbsp neutral oil, for grilling
- For the Jalapeno Mint Yogurt Sauce:
- 3/4 cup plain Greek yogurt
- 1 jalapeno, seeded and finely minced (keep seeds for more heat)
- 3 tbsp fresh mint leaves, finely chopped
- 1 small clove garlic, minced
- 1 tbsp fresh lemon juice
- 1/4 tsp kosher salt
- Pinch of sugar
Instructions
- Make the sauce. Combine the Greek yogurt, minced jalapeno, mint, garlic, lemon juice, salt, and sugar in a small bowl. Stir well, taste, and adjust heat or salt as needed. Cover and refrigerate for at least 20 minutes to let the flavors meld.
- Mix and marinate the patties. In a large bowl, combine the ground chicken, yogurt, garlic, ginger, tandoori masala, paprika, cumin, coriander, turmeric, cayenne, lemon juice, salt, and cilantro. Mix gently with your hands until just combined — do not overwork. Divide into 8 equal portions and flatten into patties about 3/4 inch thick. Place on a plate, cover, and refrigerate for 30 minutes.
- Preheat the grill. Heat a gas grill or grill pan over medium-high heat. Brush the grates or pan lightly with oil.
- Grill the patties. Place patties on the grill and cook undisturbed for 6–7 minutes per side, until nicely charred and cooked through to an internal temperature of 165°F. Resist the urge to press them down — let the grill do its work.
- Rest and serve. Transfer patties to a plate and let rest for 3 minutes. Serve warm with the jalapeno mint yogurt sauce alongside, plus warmed naan, sliced cucumber, and a wedge of lemon if desired.
Nutrition (per serving, 2 patties with sauce)
Calories: 310 | Protein: 32g | Fat: 14g | Carbs: 8g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 520mg
About the cook who shared this
Priya Krishnamurthy
Week 40 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.