Arvind asked Appa for his blessing. He called me afterward.
"I went to the house. I sat with Appa in the living room. Amma was in the kitchen."
"What did you say?"
"I said: 'Appa, I want to marry Dina. I'm asking for your blessing.'"
"What did he say?"
"He was quiet for about three hundred years. Then he said: 'Is she a good woman?'"
"And?"
"I said yes. And he said: 'Then you have my blessing.' And then he went back to his crossword."
Venkatesh Krishnamurthy. The man of few words, the crossword lover, the father who nearly lost his son and learned, over fifteen years, to stop holding on so tight. "Is she a good woman?" The only question that matters. And then: back to the crossword.
Amma's reaction, reported by Arvind: she came out of the kitchen, wiped her hands on her sari, looked at Arvind, and said: "When?"
"Soon."
"Does Dina know you're asking?"
"She suspects."
"Of course she suspects. Women always suspect. That doesn't mean you shouldn't ask properly. With a ring. And flowers. And — does she like Indian food?"
"She likes your biryani."
"Good. Then she's acceptable."
Acceptable. From Amma. Dina has graduated from "she's not Indian" to "acceptable" to "she likes my biryani and is therefore worthy of my son." The progression has taken a year and required cannoli, meatballs, and the consistent demonstration of good appetite.
I made Amma's biryani for a secret celebration dinner — just Raj and me, after the kids were asleep. We ate biryani and talked about Arvind and Dina and the wedding that's coming and the way families grow: not in straight lines but in spirals, widening, incorporating, making room.
The biryani was perfect. The spirals widen. The family grows.
I couldn’t very well make Amma’s biryani — that recipe lives in her hands, not mine — so I did what I always do when I need a dish that feels like a hug: I made Party Chicken. It’s creamy and golden and a little indulgent, the kind of thing you pull out when something quietly wonderful has happened and you want the meal to match the moment. Raj put the kids to bed, I poured two glasses of wine, and we sat at the table and toasted Arvind and Dina and the widening spiral of this family we’re all lucky enough to be part of.
Party Chicken
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 50 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour | Servings: 6
Ingredients
- 6 boneless, skinless chicken breast halves (about 3 lbs total)
- 1 can (10.5 oz) condensed cream of mushroom soup
- 1 cup sour cream
- 1/4 cup dry white wine or chicken broth
- 1 teaspoon garlic powder
- 1/2 teaspoon onion powder
- 1/2 teaspoon paprika
- Salt and black pepper to taste
- 1 sleeve (about 35 crackers) buttery round crackers, crushed (such as Ritz)
- 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
- 2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped (for garnish)
Instructions
- Preheat the oven. Heat oven to 350°F. Lightly grease a 9x13-inch baking dish with nonstick spray or a thin coat of butter.
- Season the chicken. Pat chicken breasts dry and season both sides with salt, pepper, garlic powder, and onion powder. Arrange in a single layer in the prepared baking dish.
- Make the sauce. In a medium bowl, whisk together the cream of mushroom soup, sour cream, and white wine (or broth) until smooth. Spread evenly over the top of the chicken breasts, covering them completely.
- Prepare the topping. Combine the crushed crackers and melted butter in a small bowl and stir until the crumbs are evenly coated. Scatter the buttery crumb mixture over the sauce layer in an even layer.
- Dust with paprika. Sprinkle paprika lightly over the cracker topping for color and a gentle warmth.
- Bake. Bake uncovered for 45–50 minutes, until the chicken registers 165°F on an instant-read thermometer and the cracker topping is deep golden brown.
- Rest and serve. Let the dish rest for 5 minutes before serving. Garnish with fresh parsley and serve over rice, egg noodles, or alongside a simple green salad.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 430 | Protein: 42g | Fat: 22g | Carbs: 14g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 620mg
About the cook who shared this
Priya Krishnamurthy
Week 278 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.