Anday ka halwa/Egg halwa

Healthy, homey, and filled with Mama's love

For Gohar Bano, and all our mothers now, before, and forever more, with love.

My Nani (Allah yerhamha) passed when I was very young, but I have a core few memories of her that never leave me. Part of one of those memories actually comes to me from my mom, who would constantly tell me stories of her—what she said, how she loved, how she cared for those around her. This specific memory, Ammi would always share as she’d stand in the kitchen to remember her Ammi, my Nani.

My mother was born in Karachi, to a family of humble means, who by no means were shy of using their hands for manual labor. Nana (Allah yerhamhu) was an educator—a trait that I am honored to share with him, may we meet in Jannah insha’Allah—who never forewent his morals and ethics, and always lived life by the book: using the job-issued driver to go only from home to work, and vice versa, never taking bribery money to give passing grades to children of officials’, always making sure his kids were not given preference in school just because he was head of his department.

Moral and ethics, good and bad, right and wrong carried both my maternal grandparents for as long as I have heard stories of them. My Nani always made do with all that she had, and all that she was given. The smile that was etched on her face never leaves me. Her sparkling eyes twinkled even when as she would help me get ready for bed, making sure I read all my duas and surahs before I drifted off. She exudes happiness and love, even in my dreams now.

Ammi tells me her stories till today; she would quickly run to make whatever halwa or dessert that she could if someone knocked on the door, unannounced visitors were welcomed and many. Semolina flour, chickpea flour, eggs: all were used for quick and easy halwas that she’d whip up as guests sat and enjoyed their stay. When I make these now, I think of her often. The recipes that her and my Dadi,—sisters—and the other three sisters, passed on to their children, and their children,—our mothers—are now passing on to us.

With time, and marriages, and growing families, these recipes have slowly evolved and taken mold of varying palates, but the roots are still the same. Anday ka halwa is one such recipe that I have inherited from my mother and my aunts, via both grandmothers. It’s the recipe I’ll be sharing today with a heavy, helpless, frustrated heart. While so many in the world are suffering unjustly, countless lives lost, the hurt and pain is a reminder to hold dear the ones we still have, pray for those who have left us, and always remember that He is the best of Planners. May we be amongst those who raise their thoughts, voices, and hands in support of the oppressed; may the oppressed raise their voices for us when the Day comes. May we get to hug and hold our loved ones when we meet again. Ameen.

As a reminder, I am doing an ongoing fundraiser for Palestine until November 8th. If you would like to donate, please do so here. If you would like to forego your cookies (if you are donating over $20), please leave a note at checkout. The fundraiser ends tomorrow, Wednesday, November 8th. All funds raised will be sent via Baitulmaal.