Marcel Proust had his aunt's madeleines. I have my mom's Gajar Halwa. Gajar or carrot halwa is a warm comforting dessert, redolent of my childhood. Lately, I have been missing my mom a lot. The worst part of living away from home is that I do not get to see my family as much as I would like to. Even when I am in Toronto, it is always such a struggle to spend a few peaceful days with my family. I made this halwa, because food has that power of transforming us back to a simpler time, the comfort of our childhood home, and the safe haven of our family. As Proust eloquently points out In Search of Lost Time:
No sooner had the warm liquid mixed with the crumbs touched my palate than a shudder ran through me and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary thing that was happening to me. An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, something isolated, detached, with no suggestion of its origin. And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disasters innocuous, its brevity illusory – this new sensation having had on me the effect which love has of filling me with a precious essence; or rather this essence was not in me it was me. ... Whence did it come? What did it mean? How could I seize and apprehend it? ... And suddenly the memory revealed itself. The taste was that of the little piece of madeleine which on Sunday mornings at Combray (because on those mornings I did not go out before mass), when I went to say good morning to her in her bedroom, my aunt LĂ©onie used to give me, dipping it first in her own cup of tea or tisane. The sight of the little madeleine had recalled nothing to my mind before I tasted it. And all from my cup of tea.
Do not be alarmed by it's exotic name. Gajar Halwa is basically a carrot fudge, which requires two to three hours of cooking time. All of the ingredients I use here are organic.