Dhanteras and the day before Dhanteras was faraal making day at my place.
Chivda, shev, besan laadoo, tikhat shankarpale and rava laadoo. These were the fixed items on my faraal menu. then sometimes there was also the kanola/ karanji, or chirote, mysore paak or some such.
I am no expert at making these... but yeah, I am always super enthusiastic about making these. It had become a ritual and one I loved.
Each year, as soon as the first batch of shev, or shankarpale was strained out of the kadhai, or the first laadoo rolled, or even as the sugar and salt in the chivda was adjusted..the first person to taste it would always be my father.
He would have made 2 trips to the kitchen and teasingly asked me .. "What man....what are you making?" and when I had told him the items of the day, he would exclaim.. "ohh.. good good.! ":. and go back to his chair to read or write.
Soon I would place a small plate of some chivda, or shev or a laadoo , still warm, in front of him.
He would put aside his reading material.. 'hmmm mmm', he would exclaim in a sing song way. then would delicately bite into the laadoo or taste the savory items.. close his eyes and then look at me and smile.
"A little bit of sugar, it requires a bit of sugar". Sometimes he would go on... " also one more pinch of elaichi"
For the savoury.." a teeny weeny bit of hing.. that would add that punch".
I would heed to his comments and sometimes not. He was a perfectionist, he loved playing the critic. And yet when he spoke to my sibling or my cousins, later in the day, he would unfailingly add, "it's Diwali in full swing here. Ashu is cooking these delightful faraal items"..and he would name every one of them and also add, " I get to eat them first. firrsstttt.!! " , he would emphasize.
From the faraal menu, I would leave the rawa ladoo for the last. The process was a little stressful for me....but the laadoos always turned out well in the end and has always been the most favorite at my place.. It was my dad's favorite kind of laadoo too.
And then there was the story which was always recounted as he ate that laadoo....
So........ it was the year 1989. I had a new job, new friends. A few of us friends and colleagues happened to visit a snack place, close to our office. . We were a motley group.
Me, aged 21, 2 other girls, around the same age and then there were others who ranged from 25 to 45 years in age.
My father worked in the same office, so they were his colleagues too.
At the eatery, most of us ordered our favourite batate wade. We made ourselves comfortable on the benches there, and my friend started reading the menu which was written in Marathi. She like me, was 21.
"Batata wada, Samosa, Boondi laadoo, Besan laadoo", she read out loud. and continued on.. "Khaa ladoo"....
She stopped reading and exclaimed... "हे काय , खा लाडू म्हणे . लाडू खायचाच असतो ." She seemed very indignant.
For a moment, there was a silence. and then another of our friends spoke out... "हे ना , तुमच इंग्लिश मिडियम, बरं का .. अग रवा (rawa) लाडू लिहिले आहे तिकडे "
And then there was laughter... all of us, were in the ROFL mode.
I reached home and narrated this story to my parents.
The years passed. I got married and then a couple of years later, as they grew older, my parents moved in with me... in the year 2005
That Diwali, I rolled the rawa laadoo in my palms and trying to stifle a chuckle, I offered it to dad, "here, Khaa Laadoo". For a moment , he was blank.. and then he guffawed...
"So this is it.. Khaa Laadoo.''' .... "ठीक आहे , खातो खातो "..
But it was a while until he could control his laughter and sink his teeth in the laadoo
Every year ..... the first rawa ladoo was always eaten with double the mazaa...relished... the sweetness of the laadoo, the sweet memories of those happy moments.
Chivda, shev, besan laadoo, tikhat shankarpale and rava laadoo. These were the fixed items on my faraal menu. then sometimes there was also the kanola/ karanji, or chirote, mysore paak or some such.
I am no expert at making these... but yeah, I am always super enthusiastic about making these. It had become a ritual and one I loved.
Each year, as soon as the first batch of shev, or shankarpale was strained out of the kadhai, or the first laadoo rolled, or even as the sugar and salt in the chivda was adjusted..the first person to taste it would always be my father.
He would have made 2 trips to the kitchen and teasingly asked me .. "What man....what are you making?" and when I had told him the items of the day, he would exclaim.. "ohh.. good good.! ":. and go back to his chair to read or write.
Soon I would place a small plate of some chivda, or shev or a laadoo , still warm, in front of him.
He would put aside his reading material.. 'hmmm mmm', he would exclaim in a sing song way. then would delicately bite into the laadoo or taste the savory items.. close his eyes and then look at me and smile.
"A little bit of sugar, it requires a bit of sugar". Sometimes he would go on... " also one more pinch of elaichi"
For the savoury.." a teeny weeny bit of hing.. that would add that punch".
I would heed to his comments and sometimes not. He was a perfectionist, he loved playing the critic. And yet when he spoke to my sibling or my cousins, later in the day, he would unfailingly add, "it's Diwali in full swing here. Ashu is cooking these delightful faraal items"..and he would name every one of them and also add, " I get to eat them first. firrsstttt.!! " , he would emphasize.
From the faraal menu, I would leave the rawa ladoo for the last. The process was a little stressful for me....but the laadoos always turned out well in the end and has always been the most favorite at my place.. It was my dad's favorite kind of laadoo too.
And then there was the story which was always recounted as he ate that laadoo....
So........ it was the year 1989. I had a new job, new friends. A few of us friends and colleagues happened to visit a snack place, close to our office. . We were a motley group.
Me, aged 21, 2 other girls, around the same age and then there were others who ranged from 25 to 45 years in age.
My father worked in the same office, so they were his colleagues too.
At the eatery, most of us ordered our favourite batate wade. We made ourselves comfortable on the benches there, and my friend started reading the menu which was written in Marathi. She like me, was 21.
"Batata wada, Samosa, Boondi laadoo, Besan laadoo", she read out loud. and continued on.. "Khaa ladoo"....
She stopped reading and exclaimed... "हे काय , खा लाडू म्हणे . लाडू खायचाच असतो ." She seemed very indignant.
For a moment, there was a silence. and then another of our friends spoke out... "हे ना , तुमच इंग्लिश मिडियम, बरं का .. अग रवा (rawa) लाडू लिहिले आहे तिकडे "
And then there was laughter... all of us, were in the ROFL mode.
I reached home and narrated this story to my parents.
The years passed. I got married and then a couple of years later, as they grew older, my parents moved in with me... in the year 2005
That Diwali, I rolled the rawa laadoo in my palms and trying to stifle a chuckle, I offered it to dad, "here, Khaa Laadoo". For a moment , he was blank.. and then he guffawed...
"So this is it.. Khaa Laadoo.''' .... "ठीक आहे , खातो खातो "..
But it was a while until he could control his laughter and sink his teeth in the laadoo
Every year ..... the first rawa ladoo was always eaten with double the mazaa...relished... the sweetness of the laadoo, the sweet memories of those happy moments.
