Diwali. The transition year. Amma's sweets, made by Priya.
I made the full Diwali spread in my kitchen: murukku, mysore pak, coconut laddu, jangiri (my jangiri are still not as beautiful as Amma's — the shapes are amoeba-like rather than pretzel-like, but the taste is correct), and badam halwa.
Amma came to supervise. She sat at the island, reading glasses on, watching every move. The supervision was less frequent this year — less "more ghee" and more nodding. The nodding is the new normal. She watches, she evaluates, she nods. The corrections have faded. Either I've become correct or she's become less critical or the disease has softened the exacting standard.
I think it's the last one. And I miss the corrections.
Anaya helped with the laddu — rolling coconut mixture into balls. Her hands are small and the laddus are proportionally small, which Amma called "children's laddus" and which Anaya insisted are "correct size for Anaya."
Rohan, two, contributed by eating approximately twelve peanuts from the murukku mixture before being removed from the kitchen.
We lit diyas. Every window, every surface. Anaya placed them with the care of a girl who understands light. Rohan tried to blow them out because Rohan's relationship with fire is adversarial.
Amma sat in the living room surrounded by diyas and grandchildren and the smell of jangiri frying and she looked — small. Smaller than last year. The disease shrinks people: their presence, their volume, their certainty. The Amma who commanded the kitchen is now the Amma who sits and watches and nods.
But she's here. She's in the diya-light, holding Asha (who Arvind brought over, three months old and already calm in her grandmother's arms). She's here.
The murukku spirals: perfect. For the second year in a row. Perfect spirals. No corrections.
I made them for Amma. I made them because she can't anymore. I made them because the spirals are mine now and the spirals are perfect and the woman who spent seven years telling me they were too wide is sitting in a chair, surrounded by light, holding her newest grandchild, watching her daughter make Diwali sweets in a kitchen that was designed for this exact purpose.
Happy Diwali. The lights are lit. The sweets are made. The woman in the chair is everything.
After the Diwali spread was done — the murukku spiraled, the jangiri fried, the laddus rolled by Anaya’s small determined hands — I wanted something simpler for the days that followed. Something Anaya could make start to finish without Amma’s supervision or mine, something she could shape and call her own the way I’ve finally learned to call the spirals mine. These vegan oatmeal raisin cookies are that recipe: warm spice, simple ingredients, hands in dough, no corrections necessary.
Vegan Oatmeal Raisin Cookies
Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 12 minutes | Total Time: 27 minutes | Servings: 24 cookies
Ingredients
- 1 cup all-purpose flour
- 1 1/2 cups old-fashioned rolled oats
- 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
- 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
- 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
- 1/2 cup coconut oil, melted
- 3/4 cup packed brown sugar
- 1/4 cup granulated sugar
- 1/4 cup unsweetened applesauce
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 2 tablespoons non-dairy milk (oat or almond)
- 3/4 cup raisins
Instructions
- Preheat the oven. Set oven to 350°F (175°C). Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.
- Combine dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, oats, baking soda, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg.
- Mix wet ingredients. In a separate bowl, stir together the melted coconut oil, brown sugar, granulated sugar, applesauce, vanilla extract, and non-dairy milk until smooth.
- Form the dough. Pour the wet mixture into the dry ingredients and stir until just combined. Fold in the raisins. Let the dough rest for 5 minutes so the oats absorb moisture.
- Shape the cookies. Scoop roughly 1 1/2 tablespoons of dough per cookie and roll into balls. Place on prepared baking sheets about 2 inches apart. Flatten slightly with your palm.
- Bake. Bake for 10 to 12 minutes, until edges are golden but centers still look slightly underdone. They will firm up as they cool.
- Cool completely. Let cookies rest on the baking sheet for 5 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack. Store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 5 days.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 120 | Protein: 1.5g | Fat: 5g | Carbs: 19g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 85mg
About the cook who shared this
Priya Krishnamurthy
Week 330 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.