My mum’s most anticipated celebration is happening this Saturday, 14 November. Not easily excitable nor normally demonstrative, this is the only time of year that she’s animated with almost childlike enthusiasm. Deepavali – the Festival of Lights – has always given my mum a sense of joy and excitement. As a child, a wife, mother and a great grandmother. It is a happy and busy occasion for her – supervising, planning, shopping, baking, cooking and feeding the family. In charge and in control. Nice.

Of course, in recent years my mum has relinquished much of her responsibilities to her children. Old and tired, she is comfortable showing the rest of us how and what to do at Deepavali. That said, back in July, amidst the pandemic, she had actually washed and dried her renowned green peas. Optimistic that in late October, she would be able to dispatch the green peas to the flour mill. Ground and ready for sister number 3’s arrival. Sister number 3 is the ‘expatriate’ chef who visits annually at Deepavali to help cook and bake, and enjoy the festival with the family.

Sister number 3 and my mum make a great team. They are both passionate about Deepavali and the paraphernalia associated with the celebration. In the kitchen, the two are like co-conspirators with a mission. Hence, it was no surprise that my mum had a mini-meltdown when sister number 3 confirmed that she would not be home for Deepavali this year. The first no-show in over 25 years. Covid-19 put paid to her trip. Honestly, it was expected. Yet, disappointingly sad.

I knew my mum would not be up to producing the feast laid out for Deepavali. I wanted to help but didn’t have much of a clue where to start. I have no reference point with regards to Indian cakes and dishes. Every year, I see this buffet of food served up by sister number 3. Every year, I pay no attention to the ingredients and processes. What I know is loads of frying and hot oil are involved. I don’t like the after taste of oily food, and hot oil makes my eyes burn. I’m also not a huge fan of Indian cakes. The only two I like are ‘muruku’ and ‘nai orundu.’

What to do? I volunteered for the job. With no one else in sight and on site, my poor mum had no choice. First thing’s first. I Googled. For baked ‘muruku.’ Yes, no frying for me. I couldn’t fry even if I wanted to as I’ve yet to replace my gas hob that blew up on me. As an aside, that somewhat harrowing experience has left an impression on me. I am not scared or put off by gas hobs. Just a little tentative. I am taking my time to consider alternatives. Maybe an electric hob.

Anyways… Voila. I found a few websites that offered baked ‘muruku’ recipes. Some had helpful videos. Next: ingredients. Didn’t have any. Off I went shopping. Little India was not buzzing like it usually does leading up to Deepavali. Bought two of each ingredient based on the recipe/s (just in case I mess up). From dry roasted green peas flour, rice flour, sesame seed, chickpea flour to Asafoetida (big mistake).

I didn’t know what Asa-foe-ti-da was. I bought it because it appeared to be a regular ingredient in Indian cakes and dishes. Sounded exotic to my ears but stunk to high heaven. Good grief. I had to leave the cupboard door open for days to get rid off that awful smell that permeated from the sealed container. Yes, sealed. Asa-foe-ti-da. No, thanks. Next: a ‘muruku’ mould. I bought my first stainless steel 9-inch rotary ‘muruku’ maker.  

With trepidation and eagerness, my test kitchen got underway. My first attempt resulted in crunchy and slightly burnt ‘muruku.’ The difficult bit was the ‘muruku’ mould. Far from cooperative, it made rotating the ‘muruku’ dough into swirls less than easy. I managed nine wiggly pieces. Remarkably, they tasted like ‘muruku.’ My husband enjoyed them. I gave it another go. The third batch got the seal of approval from my mum. Despite being a little hard on her dentures. I also had a trial run on ‘nai orundu.’ Making the ghee balls was easier than I had envisaged. However, the jury is still out on the taste front. My mum suggested re-roasting the already roasted green peas flour as the one ghee ball she ate got stuck to the roof of her mouth. Hmm…

My week ahead will be busy. I will be baking ‘muruku’ and re-roasting and shaping ‘nai orundu.’ Unexpectedly, my mum asked if I could also try making ‘athirsam’ – a molasses-tasting donut for the big day. Hmm… Who would have thought? Not me.

Happy Deepavali.