My birthday was yesterday. Twenty-eight. Amma called at 6 AM to sing happy birthday in Tamil and English, which is her tradition and which I pretend to find annoying but would be devastated if she stopped.\n\nRaj gave me a cookbook — Madhur Jaffrey's "Climbing the Mango Trees" — and a card that said, in his neat cardiologist's handwriting: "To the woman who makes every kitchen feel like home. Happy birthday, my love." He is not a poet, my husband, but he tries, and the trying is the whole thing.\n\nAmma and Appa came over for dinner. Amma brought payasam — vermicelli payasam, the kind she makes for every birthday, with roasted cashews and raisins plump with ghee. She also brought unsolicited opinions about our curtains ("too thin"), our dish soap ("the wrong brand"), and the way I store my rice ("you need a proper dabba, not a plastic container from Target"). I love this woman with my entire heart and she makes me want to scream into a pillow approximately once per visit.\n\nAppa brought a card with $200 inside and said, "For the house." That's it. That's the whole emotional exchange. Venkatesh Krishnamurthy, ladies and gentlemen.\n\nArvind called from Trenton and sang happy birthday badly and loudly. He asked what Raj got me and when I said a cookbook, he said, "Of course he did. The man knows his audience." He's not wrong.\n\nI cooked my own birthday dinner because I wanted to. Some people want to go to restaurants. I want to stand in my kitchen with good music playing and make something that requires all of my attention. Tonight I made Amma's mutton biryani — well, my version of it. Amma makes hers with a dum technique that takes three hours and requires a level of patience I haven't yet achieved. Mine takes ninety minutes and uses the pressure cooker, which Amma considers cheating but which Appa says tastes "exactly the same" (it doesn't, but I appreciate the diplomacy).\n\nThe biryani was good. Not Amma's good — that's a level I may never reach — but good in the way that matters: made with love, eaten with people I love, in a kitchen that's starting to smell like mine.\n\nRaj did the dishes. Without being asked. Marriage is finding someone who does the dishes on your birthday without being asked.\n\nI've been reading the Madhur Jaffrey book before bed, and it's making me think about food memories in a way I haven't before. She writes about growing up in Delhi, about the specific taste of a mango eaten at the right moment, about how food is never just food — it's time and place and who you were when you ate it. I think about Amma's sambar and I don't taste lentils and tamarind. I taste Saturday mornings, and the sound of the pressure cooker, and Amma humming Tamil film songs while she cooked, and the feeling of being small and safe and fed.\n\nTwenty-eight. I'm a pharmacist at JFK Medical Center. I'm married to a good man. I'm learning to cook in my own kitchen. I'm trying to figure out who I am when I'm not being Lakshmi Krishnamurthy's perfect daughter.\n\nIt's a good question. I'm in no rush for the answer.
So this week I cooked for my birthday — not Amma’s sambar, not yet, but something that felt like a step toward that same feeling of being small and safe and fed. The pressure cooker hissing on the counter reminded me of Saturday mornings at home, and these coconut curry noodles filled the apartment with the kind of warmth that makes a kitchen start to feel like yours. Raj did the dishes again, without being asked, and I stood there with a bowl of noodles thinking twenty-eight might be the year I figure out what my own cooking tastes like. Here’s how I made it.
Instant Pot Red Coconut Curry Noodles
Prep Time: 35 min | Cook Time: 5 min | Total Time: 40 min | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 4 cups chicken or vegetable broth
- 16 ounces fettuccine noodles (broken in half)
- 1 (13.5 ounce) can coconut milk (light or regular)
- 1/4 cup sweet Thai chili sauce (see note)
- 1 tablespoon fresh ginger or ginger paste
- 1 tablespoon red curry paste (see note)
- 3 cloves garlic (finely minced)
- 1 teaspoon salt (I use coarse, kosher salt)
- 1 cup snow peas (halved or whole)
- 1 red bell pepper (cored and sliced into strips)
- 1 cup small diced carrots or matchstick carrots
- Fresh chopped cilantro and chopped peanuts, for serving (optional)
Instructions
- Layer the noodles. Pour two cups of the broth into the bottom of the electric pressure cooker. Layer the noodles on top of each other in 5-6 layers, alternating directions so they don’t clump together while cooking.
- Add remaining broth. Pour in the remaining two cups broth.
- Make the sauce. Whisk together the coconut milk, Thai chili sauce, fresh ginger, red curry paste, garlic and salt. Pour this mixture into the pressure cooker. Do not stir.
- Pressure cook. Secure the lid, set the valve to seal, and set the pressure cooker to cook on high pressure for 4-5 minutes. (The exact time will depend on the brand of noodles — take the al dente cooking time, cut it in half and subtract another 1-2 minutes.)
- Release the pressure. Quick release the pressure. If liquid spurts through the valve, close the valve and wait 5 minutes before trying again. It’s ok if there is remaining liquid in the bottom of the pressure cooker — it will continue to absorb into the noodles for perfect sauciness.
- Add the vegetables. Give the noodles a good toss with tongs and add the vegetables. Close the pressure cooker and let sit for 5-7 minutes until the vegetables steam in the residual heat. Toss until combined. Add additional salt and pepper to taste, if needed.
- Serve. Serve the noodles with chopped peanuts and fresh cilantro, if desired.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 473 kcal | Protein: 14g | Fat: 18g | Saturated Fat: 13g | Carbs: 67g | Fiber: 4g | Sugar: 9g | Cholesterol: 64mg | Sodium: 1108mg
About the cook who shared this
Priya Krishnamurthy
Week 3 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.