Arvind passed his contractor's license exam.
He called me on Wednesday morning — I was at work, reviewing a patient's medication list, and my phone buzzed with his name and I stepped into the hallway because Arvind calling during work hours means either crisis or triumph, and I needed to know which.
"I passed, Akka." His voice was shaking. Arvind's voice never shakes. He is the unshakeable sibling, the one who got arrested at seventeen and rebuilt himself brick by brick without anyone's help. But his voice shook.
"You passed."
"First try. Eighty-seven percent."
I cried in the hospital hallway. A nurse walking by asked if I was okay. "My brother passed his contractor's exam," I said, which is not a sentence that explains crying to a stranger but is absolutely a sentence that explains crying if you know Arvind's story.
The flashcards worked. I knew they would. I made sixty-three of them — HVAC codes, business law, safety regulations — and quizzed him every Sunday dinner for three months. Arvind pretended to hate it. "You're worse than Amma," he said once, which is the highest insult and the highest compliment in the Krishnamurthy family.
Appa's reaction: a phone call to Arvind that lasted four minutes (Venkatesh Krishnamurthy is not a phone talker) in which he said, according to Arvind, "Good work, kanna." Two words. That's it. But Arvind's voice broke again when he told me, because those two words from Appa — two words after fifteen years of near-silence — are everything.
Amma's reaction: "Now you can start your own business. When are you starting your own business? You should start soon. Don't wait. Your father waited too long to leave his company and look at him." This is Lakshmi Krishnamurthy's version of a congratulations card.
Sunday dinner celebration at the parents' house. Amma made Arvind's favorites: chicken chettinad (fiery, black pepper-heavy, the dish Arvind has requested for every birthday since he was twelve), lemon rice, and rava kesari (the semolina halwa that is basically butter and sugar held together by the thinnest pretense of being food).
I watched Arvind eat with the appetite of a man who has just been told he matters. Appa sat across from him and said almost nothing and ate almost everything and once, when Arvind wasn't looking, smiled in a way I haven't seen in fifteen years.
The prodigal son is not a story about return. It's a story about a father who never stopped waiting.
That dinner at my parents’ house—watching Appa smile when he thought no one was looking—left me wanting to cook something that carried the same energy Amma’s chicken chettinad always does: loud, warm, unapologetically spicy, the kind of food that says you matter here without anyone having to say a word. Chicken riggies are my version of that—not South Indian, not Amma’s, but mine, and just as unsubtle about what it’s trying to do. Here’s how I make it.
One Pot Spicy Chicken Riggies
Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 35 minutes | Total Time: 50 minutes | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 1 1/2 lbs boneless, skinless chicken thighs, cut into 1-inch pieces
- 1 lb rigatoni pasta
- 1 can (28 oz) crushed tomatoes
- 1/2 cup heavy cream
- 4 hot cherry peppers (jarred), sliced, plus 2 tablespoons of their brine
- 3 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 medium yellow onion, diced
- 1/2 cup dry white wine
- 2 tablespoons olive oil
- 1 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes (adjust to heat preference)
- 1 teaspoon dried oregano
- 1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
- 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
- 3 cups low-sodium chicken broth
- Fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped, for garnish
- Grated Pecorino Romano, for serving
Instructions
- Season the chicken. Pat the chicken pieces dry with paper towels, then season generously on all sides with salt, black pepper, and oregano.
- Sear for color. Heat olive oil in a large Dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add chicken in a single layer (work in batches to avoid crowding) and sear until deeply golden, about 3—4 minutes per side. Transfer to a plate and set aside. Don’t rush this step — the crust is flavor.
- Build the base. Reduce heat to medium. In the same pot, add the diced onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and translucent, about 4 minutes. Add the garlic and cook 1 minute more until fragrant.
- Deglaze. Pour in the white wine and scrape up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot. Let it reduce by half, about 2 minutes.
- Add heat and tomatoes. Stir in the crushed tomatoes, sliced cherry peppers, pepper brine, and red pepper flakes. Return the seared chicken and any accumulated juices to the pot.
- Cook the pasta right in the sauce. Pour in the chicken broth, then add the rigatoni and stir to submerge. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to a steady simmer. Cook uncovered, stirring every 3—4 minutes to prevent sticking, until the pasta is al dente and the sauce has thickened around it, about 18—20 minutes. Add a splash of water or broth if the sauce tightens too fast.
- Finish with cream. Remove the pot from heat and stir in the heavy cream. Taste and adjust salt and pepper. The sauce should be bold, spicy, and just barely pink from the cream meeting the tomato.
- Serve. Ladle into wide bowls, top with fresh parsley and a generous shower of Pecorino Romano. Eat while it’s loud and hot and the table is full.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 525 | Protein: 34g | Fat: 17g | Carbs: 57g | Fiber: 4g | Sodium: 690mg
About the cook who shared this
Priya Krishnamurthy
Week 47 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.