Fugiyas... Celebrating Life!

I’ve always had these during celebrations, be it weddings, birthdays, christening, communions, and other important occasions, and sometimes, even after church on Sundays. Being brought up in a predominately East Indian neighbourhood, fugiyas was always a part of celebrating life. 

Making these little delight brought back the warmth of the memories of those celebrations, and the aunties and nanas who prepared them. So making fugiyas was in a way celebrating life, reliving those memories, honouring all the nanas and aunties I love and miss so much. In these troublesome times these memories are the soothing balm that helps to calm down a troubled mind, proving indeed why cooking is therapeutic.

Once again mumma became my Sous Chef, though she was a bit hesitant of me taking a stab at making these. But in the end she relented to my silly persistence. So while I tried to master the art of getting the perfect fugiyas (trying desperately not to get chatka from the oil due to the water on the fingers, a technique which you used to make then). The first few were had odd shapes, but then they say “practice makes perfect”, so I channelled all the aunties and nanas, slowly and steadily mastering the technique, getting the hang of making, the still not quite perfect, fugiyas. 

Well how did they taste, you may ask. Firstly, it was edible (phew, now that’s a relief), so yeah to me! They didn’t quite taste like the ones I remember and cherished having, but then these were not bad either, and tasted good. So not bad for my first attempt. In a way making these proved to be therapeutic, just what life would have prescribed.

So in the end, this little side dish brought back memories and helped relive them, and in its own way brought about a celebration of life!