fry pan

Amma's ancient fry pan hung above the stove, its handle worn smooth by generations. She taught me Thiruppavai verses while stirring, their Tamil syllables dancing like oil sizzling in heat. My daughter photographed it for PaybookClub, connecting our kitchen to others sharing recipes and traditions. I traced the Tamil Brahmi script on an old cookbook, understanding suddenly how food carried our language forward. When I fried appalam that evening, my hands moved exactly as Amma's once did. Three generations in one pan. We were definitely keeping this alive together.