Pushpa came for her grandmotherly shift. She arrives every Thursday now — her day, the way Monday through Wednesday is Amma's — and the handoff is a carefully choreographed production.
Amma leaves detailed notes. Actual notes. On paper. "Anaya fed at 2 PM. Diaper changed at 2:30. She likes to be rocked counterclockwise. DO NOT give her the yellow pacifier — she doesn't like it." These instructions are written in Amma's precise handwriting and left on the kitchen counter for Pushpa, who reads them with the diplomatic smile of a woman who raised two children without notes and does not need instructions from another grandmother but is too polite to say so.
Pushpa's style is different from Amma's. Where Amma is structured (feeding schedule, nap schedule, massage schedule), Pushpa is intuitive. She holds Anaya and follows the baby's cues — feeds when Anaya seems hungry, sleeps when Anaya sleeps, talks to her in Gujarati while making chai with one hand and rocking the bassinet with the other.
"Your mother-in-law left me instructions," Pushpa said to me on Thursday, holding Anaya on her shoulder.
"She means well."
"She means to be in charge."
"Also that."
Pushpa laughed. She and Amma have reached a détente that works: separate days, separate styles, shared grandchild. The competition has mellowed into something almost like collaboration. Almost.
Pushpa made Gujarati khichdi for us — her version, which is different from the Tamil version I know. Hers is creamier, made with extra ghee and topped with kadhi (the yogurt-besan curry that Gujaratis eat with everything). She also made handvo — a savory Gujarati cake made with mixed dal and rice batter, studded with vegetables and sesame seeds. It's substantial, nutritious, and exactly what a postpartum woman needs.
I'm learning Gujarati food from Pushpa the same way I learned Tamil food from Amma: by watching, by eating, by absorbing. My daughter will have two culinary traditions. Two grandmothers. Two kitchens.
Anaya doesn't know how lucky she is. But she will.
Pushpa never wrote down a single recipe — she carries them the way she carries Anaya, intuitively and without a checklist — but watching her cook that Thursday reminded me that the most nourishing food rarely needs instructions. This lentil stew is my bridge between her kitchen and mine: humble, deeply satisfying, and exactly the kind of meal that makes you feel cared for without anyone having to leave a note on the counter. It won’t be Pushpa’s khichdi, and it won’t be Amma’s either — but it holds something of both of them, which feels just right.
Lentil Stew
Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 35 min | Total Time: 50 min | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 2 tablespoons ghee or olive oil
- 1 medium yellow onion, diced
- 4 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 tablespoon fresh ginger, grated
- 2 teaspoons ground cumin
- 1 teaspoon ground turmeric
- 1 teaspoon ground coriander
- 1/2 teaspoon red chili flakes (optional)
- 1 1/2 cups red lentils, rinsed
- 1 can (14.5 oz) diced tomatoes
- 5 cups vegetable broth
- 1 cup water
- 2 medium carrots, peeled and diced
- 2 cups baby spinach or chopped kale
- 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
- Salt and black pepper, to taste
- Fresh cilantro, for garnish
Instructions
- Sauté the aromatics. Heat ghee in a large pot or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent, about 5–6 minutes. Add the garlic and ginger and cook for 1 more minute until fragrant.
- Toast the spices. Stir in the cumin, turmeric, coriander, and chili flakes. Cook for 30–60 seconds, stirring constantly, until the spices are fragrant and lightly toasted.
- Add lentils and liquids. Add the rinsed lentils, diced tomatoes (with their juices), vegetable broth, and water. Stir to combine and bring to a boil over medium-high heat.
- Add carrots and simmer. Stir in the diced carrots. Reduce heat to medium-low, cover partially, and simmer for 25–30 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the lentils are completely soft and the stew has thickened.
- Finish with greens. Stir in the spinach or kale and cook for 2–3 minutes until wilted. Add the lemon juice and season generously with salt and pepper.
- Serve. Ladle into bowls and top with fresh cilantro. Serve with warm flatbread, rice, or on its own as a nourishing standalone meal.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 245 | Protein: 13g | Fat: 6g | Carbs: 36g | Fiber: 9g | Sodium: 480mg
About the cook who shared this
Priya Krishnamurthy
Week 122 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.