yummy

Every winter morning, Amma woke before dawn in our Tamil Nadu home, her hands moving through the sacred ritual of Thiruppavai preparation. She'd taught me the verses, the prayers whispered while grinding rice and jaggery into creamy sweetness. My first batch came out lumpy. Amma smiled, tasting it anyway. "Yummy," she declared, making me kick up my heels with joy. Years later, I made it perfectly. But watching my daughter taste Amma's recipe—that moment beat any competition. Some rewards run deeper than praise, woven through generations, binding us to something timeless and true.