Mithai for Diwali, festivals and guests, ready in 45 minutes or less. (59 recipes)
A quick, rich sweet of dates melted down in butter, then mixed with milk chocolate, chopped nuts, coconut and rice krispies and pressed into a tray. It's chewy, chocolatey and crisp. Makes about 30 diamonds; keep them in the fridge and serve cold.
Kutch grows some of India's best dates, and in Bhuj and Anjar homes khajur pak is the sweet made for Diwali boxes and for Ekadashi and other fast days, since it needs nothing but dates, ghee, nuts and coconut. The dates melt in warm ghee into a sticky paste, the nuts give crunch, and the log is rolled in poppy seeds and sliced into neat coins. The common mistake is cooking the dates too long, which dries them out so the log cracks when you slice it. Chef's tip: for a harder winter version, swap a third of the soft dates for chopped kharek (dry dates) soaked overnight in a little milk.
In Gujarat, when two families agree on a match, a plate of gol dhana is passed around before anything else, and the engagement itself is often simply called 'gol dhana'. The same mix appears on auspicious days, at a griha pravesh and at the start of a new venture: soft jaggery rubbed together with dhana dal, the split, lightly roasted coriander seeds sold in every Gujarati grocery. It takes five minutes and needs no cooking. The common mistake is using whole coriander seeds, which are hard and bitter; buy dhana dal, or split and toast the seeds yourself. Chef's tip: choose a soft, golden Kolhapuri-style jaggery that crumbles between your fingers, so it coats the seeds instead of staying in lumps.
In Saurashtra a new mother is handed a tin of sooth pak within days of giving birth, and the rest of the family quietly helps themselves when winter colds arrive. It is a small, potent square: plenty of dry ginger roasted in ghee, softened by jaggery and wheat flour, with a little puffed gum and coconut for texture, so one piece warms you right through. The mistake to avoid is roasting the ginger powder on its own in very hot ghee, which scorches it in seconds and leaves the pak bitter. Chef's tip: grind dry ginger root yourself in a spice grinder just before cooking; the flavour is far brighter than old packet powder.
Joynagar, south of Kolkata, makes moa only in winter, when the fragrant kanakchur paddy is harvested and date-palm sap is boiled into fresh nolen gur. Puffed kanakchur khoi is bound with the liquid gur, khoya and ghee into soft balls topped with a raisin and a pinch of cardamom, and Bengalis queue for the first boxes each December. The common mistake is overcooking the gur, which sets the moa hard as stone; it should reach only the soft-thread stage so the balls stay tender and squash slightly when bitten. Chef's tip: if you cannot find kanakchur khoi, use the freshest, crispest puffed rice you can buy and warm it briefly in a dry pan.
Godshe is the quiet sweet of Goan Saraswat and Gaud Saraswat kitchens, made on festival mornings, for a family puja, or simply when there is fresh coconut and good jaggery in the house. Broken rice is cooked until soft and creamy, then sweetened with dark coconut jaggery and loosened with first-press coconut milk, giving a pudding thicker than payasam and deeply caramel in flavour. Many families make the same dish with chana dal instead of rice. The usual mistake is adding jaggery while the rice is still firm, because the sugar stops the grains from softening any further. Chef's tip: a few slivers of fresh coconut and a pinch of nutmeg on top make it taste like a temple offering.
Bellam paramannam is the naivedyam of Telangana and Andhra homes, cooked for Sankranti, Ugadi, Varalakshmi Vratam and almost any puja, a soft rice-and-moong pudding sweetened with jaggery and glossed with ghee. Its colour is a warm caramel and its taste deeper than a sugar kheer. The classic mistake is adding jaggery to milk that is still on a high boil, which can split it; take the pot off the heat, let it stop bubbling, then stir the jaggery in. Chef's tip: roast the moong dal in a spoon of ghee until it smells toasty before cooking; it gives the paramannam its homely flavour.
Kabok are crunchy balls of puffed rice and sesame bound with hot jaggery syrup, made in Meitei homes for Yaoshang, Cheiraoba and temple offerings. Black puffed rice is used in some villages, giving dark, toasty kabok. The key is the syrup: cook it to the hard-ball stage, when a drop in cold water sets into a firm ball, or the balls will fall apart. The common mistake is shaping with dry hands; wet them so the hot mixture doesn't stick or burn. Chef's tip: warm the puffed rice in the oven for a few minutes first so it stays crisp.
Across Marwar, this simple halwa is the one cooked for temple prasad, for Satyanarayan katha and for women in the weeks after giving birth, when ghee and jaggery are thought to build strength. Wholewheat flour is roasted slowly in plenty of ghee until it turns a deep nutty brown, then cooked with hot water and sugar or jaggery until soft and glossy. The whole thing takes 30 minutes. The common mistake is rushing the roast on high heat, which leaves the flour raw-tasting inside and scorched outside. Chef's tip: roast on low heat until the colour is like milky tea and the ghee starts to separate and bubble around the flour.
Gujarati families make anjeer pak for Diwali boxes and for fast days, when it gives quick energy without any grain or refined sugar. Soaked dried figs are cooked down in ghee into a thick jammy paste, mixed with toasted almonds, cashews and pistachios, and rolled into logs that slice into pretty pink-and-green rounds. It keeps for two weeks in the fridge. The common mistake is under-cooking the fig paste, which leaves the logs soft and sticky so they never slice cleanly. Chef's tip: keep stirring until the paste rolls into a ball that no longer sticks to the pan or your greased palm.
Sing pak is the Gujarati fasting-day fudge: peanuts roasted, skinned and ground coarse, then cooked into a one-string sugar syrup with ghee and cardamom and set in a tray. Because it uses no grain, it is made for Ekadashi, Shravan Mondays and Navratri, and children love it any day. It is soft, rich and a little crumbly. The common mistake is cooking the syrup too far; past one string it sets rock-hard and grainy. Chef's tip: pinch a drop of syrup between finger and thumb (carefully, after cooling it on a spoon): one thin thread should form as you pull them apart.
On Ekadashi, Navratri and other fast days, Gujarati homes make this quick sheero from rajgira (amaranth) flour, which is allowed when grains are not. It is roasted in ghee until nutty, then cooked with milk and sugar into a soft, spoonable pudding with cardamom and a few nuts. It is ready in 20 minutes and is often offered to the Mataji before the family eats. The common mistake is adding cold milk to the roasted flour, which seizes into lumps. Chef's tip: heat the milk and sugar together first and pour it in slowly while you whisk.
For Uttarayan, the January kite festival, every Gujarati kitchen turns out trays of chikki, and dalia (roasted split chana, the yellow dal sold for chutneys) is the one that gets forgotten until someone tastes it. It is lighter and crunchier than peanut chikki, with a toasty, slightly savoury edge from the dal. It is all about the jaggery syrup. The common mistake is pulling the jaggery off too early; underdone syrup gives sticky, chewy chikki that never snaps. Chef's tip: drop a little syrup into cold water: when it sets hard and cracks cleanly (hard-crack stage), tip in the dalia straight away.
At midnight on Janmashtami, when Gujarati and Rajasthani families sing to baby Krishna, the prasad handed round is this fragrant panjiri of ground coriander seeds roasted in ghee and mixed with powdered sugar, coconut, makhana and dry fruit. Because it contains no grain, it is also eaten by those who keep the Janmashtami fast. It tastes warm, sweet and surprisingly floral. The common mistake is roasting the coriander powder on high heat; it burns in seconds and turns bitter. Chef's tip: grind the seeds yourself just before roasting, and stop when the kitchen smells like warm citrus, not toast.
The sweet shops of Bhuj and Mandvi in Kutch sell gulab pak in pale pink slabs that smell of summer roses, and it is a favourite to carry home after a trip to the Rann or a family wedding. Mawa is cooked down with sugar and gulkand, the sun-cured rose-petal preserve, so the fudge is soft and grainy with little chewy flecks of petal through it. The mistake to watch for is adding the gulkand too early: cooked for long, it darkens and turns the fudge brown and toffee-like. Chef's tip: a few drops of rose water stirred in right at the end lift the perfume without making it taste soapy.
Mag na ladva are a Central Gujarat favourite for Diwali and for lunchbox treats, rich with ghee yet light in texture because the moong dal is dry-roasted and ground before it ever meets fat. Cooked slowly in ghee, the ground dal turns sandy and smells of toasted nuts, then powdered sugar, cardamom and chopped nuts bind it into soft, crumbly laddus. The mistake many make is grinding the dal too fine and roasting it too fast, which gives a pasty laddu with a raw, beany aftertaste. Chef's tip: grind the dal to the texture of fine semolina, not flour, for the classic melt-in-the-mouth crumb.
In Ahmedabad, any good news, from exam results to a new home or a newborn, means a box of kesar penda passed around the office and the street. These are soft, creamy pendas of fresh mawa cooked briefly with sugar and plenty of saffron, so they stay pale gold and fudgy, quite unlike the browned pedas of Mathura or Dharwad. The common mistake is overcooking the mawa once the sugar goes in, which turns the pendas dry and cracked at the edges. Chef's tip: stop cooking as soon as a small piece rolls into a smooth ball between your palms; they firm up as they cool.
At Parsi weddings and navjotes in Surat, Navsari and Mumbai, the boi, a fish, is a symbol of good luck, and a tray of small pink mawa fish travels with the sagan gifts. There is no fish in them at all: they are a simple sweet of fresh mawa cooked with sugar, tinted the palest pink and pressed into carved fish moulds, with a raisin or a silver ball for the eye. The common mistake is cooking the mawa too long, so it turns crumbly and cracks in the mould instead of taking a clean imprint. Chef's tip: lightly grease the mould with ghee and dust it with a pinch of icing sugar so each fish slips out with sharp scales and fins.
Winter in Punjab has a sound, and it is the snap of gajak: thin, glossy sheets of toasted sesame bound in jaggery, sold from piled trays outside the sweet shops of Multan, Gujranwala and Lahore from the first cold week of December. It is nutty, crunchy and toffee-sweet, with the earthy depth of gur, and families keep a tin of it beside the heater to nibble after dinner with green tea or to share with visitors. The commercial kind is hammered and pulled into flaky layers, but the home version poured thin and rolled flat is what most households make. The pitfall is pulling the jaggery off the heat too early, which gives a brittle that turns chewy and sticky after a day. Chef's tip: test the syrup by dropping a little into cold water; it must snap cleanly at once, and that hard-crack stage is reached quickly, so have the sesame warm and ready. Take care: the syrup is far hotter than boiling water.
Children in Lahore grow up buying rewri by the paper cone from the old shops in Rang Mahal and from the carts at the Basant and Mela Chiraghan fairs, little white coins of hard candy crusted with toasted sesame that crack between the teeth and then melt slowly. The sugar is boiled to hard crack, pulled on a greased hook or with oiled hands until it turns opaque and white, flavoured with kewra, then cut into tiny pieces and rolled in sesame. It is a winter sweet, eaten with peanuts and gajak around the fire and handed out at shrines. The step that trips people up is pulling the sugar when it is either too hot to handle or already cooling into glass, so time it carefully and work fast. Chef's tip: wear clean, thick rubber gloves rubbed with ghee for pulling, and keep the candy near a warm oven door so it stays pliable while you cut. Take care: boiled sugar causes serious burns, so keep children away while it is hot.
When a baby is born in a Punjabi home, one of the first things the grandmothers do is roast a huge karahi of panjiri, loose, golden crumbs of wholewheat flour fried in ghee and mixed with sugar, nuts, seeds, makhana and crunchy fried gond, meant to warm and strengthen the new mother through the forty days after birth. The same mixture is made in every household from Sialkot to Bahawalpur when the winter cold sets in, eaten by the spoonful with hot milk at night or sprinkled over a bowl of milk for breakfast. It tastes nutty, toasty and lightly sweet, with crunch in every mouthful. The usual way it goes wrong is roasting the flour too fast on a high flame, which browns the outside while the inside still tastes raw. Chef's tip: roast the flour slowly until it is the colour of pale biscuit and smells like baking cookies, and add the sugar only once the flour has cooled, so it stays crunchy rather than melting.
When an Afghan family agrees to a marriage proposal, the shirini-khori, literally the eating of sweets, follows, and trays of sheer pira are cut and handed round to mark that the deal is sealed; it also appears at Eid and Nowruz all over the country. It is a soft, dense milk fudge made in minutes from milk powder and syrup, perfumed with cardamom and rosewater and pressed with green pistachios and walnuts, and it melts slowly on the tongue like a creamy, not too sweet barfi. A syrup boiled too long is what turns it dry, crumbly and grainy, so take it off the heat as soon as it forms a single thread. Chef's tip: sift the milk powder and stir it in all at once, fast, while the syrup is still hot, or it sets in lumps before it is smooth.
Teler pitha, literally oil cake, is the easiest of the winter pithas and the one children wait for at the start of the date-palm season, when the first pots of fresh khejur rosh are boiled down into gur in the villages of Jessore and Faridpur. A batter of rice flour and melted jaggery is poured into hot oil a ladle at a time, and each cake puffs into a round with a little raised hump in the middle, crisp and brown outside, soft and chewy inside, tasting of caramel and fennel. They are eaten warm in the afternoon or packed for a journey. Oil that is too hot gives dark cakes with raw centres, which is where most people go wrong; keep it at a steady medium heat. Chef's tip: rest the batter for at least an hour, ideally two, so the rice flour swells and the cakes rise properly.
Kushtia, on the Gorai river in the west of Bangladesh, has been famous for tiler khaja since before Partition, and the long white sticks dusted with sesame are sold at every bus stop and train station in the district, wrapped in paper bags for the journey. The sugar is boiled to a hard syrup, then pulled and folded by hand, often over a hook on the wall, until it turns from clear amber to opaque white and fills with tiny air pockets, so the finished sticks are brittle, crunchy and light, almost honeycombed, with nutty toasted sesame on the outside. They are snacked on with tea and given to children as a treat. The trap is waiting too long to pull, as the sugar sets glass-hard; it should be just cool enough to touch. Chef's tip: wear clean, heatproof kitchen gloves rubbed with a little oil, as hot sugar burns badly.
In the second week of January the sweet shops of Janakpur, Birgunj and Rajbiraj fill with the dull thud of wooden pestles, as tilkut makers pound roasted sesame into hot jaggery for Maghe Sankranti, the festival that marks the end of the coldest month. The result is a brittle, crumbly disc with a rich, toasty flavour and a melting, slightly chewy middle, and families give it to each other and eat it with yoghurt, beaten rice and sweet potatoes on the festival morning. Sesame is believed to warm the body in winter, so it is eaten all month. The thing that spoils it is burning the sesame, which turns the whole batch bitter. Chef's tip: roast the seeds only until they smell nutty and one crushes easily between your fingers; they keep darkening for a minute after they leave the pan.
Kasar is a sweet of good fortune: Bahun and Chhetri families in the hills make it by the basketful to send with a bride to her new home, to hand out at bratabandha thread ceremonies and to fill the Tihar plates. It is the simplest of sweets, puffed rice stirred into bubbling jaggery syrup flavoured with cardamom and pressed into balls while warm, sometimes with sesame, coconut or peanuts added, and it is crunchy, light and caramel-sweet. Children love making it because it is all about quick hands and a bowl of cold water. The pitfall is syrup that is not cooked far enough, which gives soft, sticky balls that collapse in a day. Chef's tip: test the syrup by dropping a little into cold water; when it sets into a firm ball that cracks if you squeeze it, it is ready.
At Hindu pujas across Trinidad, and on Divali night in Felicity and Debe, parsad is the sweet offering that is shared with everyone afterwards, handed out warm on a piece of leaf. Flour is roasted slowly in ghee until it smells nutty and turns sandy brown, then cooked with milk, sugar, raisins and spice into a soft, glossy pudding. The common mistake is rushing the roasting on high heat: the flour burns outside and tastes raw within. Add the milk carefully, as it spits. Chef's tip: warm the milk and sugar together first; adding hot liquid to the roasted flour keeps the parsad smooth and lump-free.
The towns of the Kathmandu Valley smell of hot molasses in early January, as Newar confectioners in Bhaktapur, Thimi and Patan boil sugarcane syrup down into chaku, a dark, glossy toffee that is pulled until it turns light and chewy and then mixed with ghee, cashews, coconut and sesame. On Ghyo Chaku Sanlhu, the Newar name for Maghe Sankranti, it is eaten with ghee and boiled yams to warm the body, and pieces are wrapped and sent to married daughters. At home it is easiest to start from good jaggery. Pulling it off the heat too early is the classic failure, leaving a runny mess that will never set. Chef's tip: once it reaches the hard-ball stage, let the toffee cool on a greased tray just until you can handle it, then stretch and fold it with greased hands for a few minutes until it turns from dark brown to golden and chewy.
The oasis towns of Turbat and Panjgur in Makran grow some of Pakistan's finest dates, the soft, honeyed Begum Jangi and Muzawati among them, and after the late-summer harvest households turn the surplus into this rich, fudgy halwa. Dates are softened in warm milk, mashed and cooked down slowly in ghee until the mixture is dark and glossy and comes away from the pan, then finished with almonds, walnuts and cardamom. It needs little or no added sugar, and it is served in small portions at Eid, to new mothers and to guests with green tea. Using dry, hard dates without soaking is where it goes wrong, leaving the halwa lumpy and leathery. Chef's tip: choose soft, moist dates and blend them only briefly after soaking, so a few small pieces remain for texture.
Narikol laru are the small, chewy coconut balls that sit next to til pitha on every Bihu plate in Assam, offered to visitors with tea and jolpan. Fresh coconut is cooked with jaggery until it binds, flavoured with cardamom and rolled warm. They are soft and moist, not dry like desiccated-coconut ladoos, and are made in big batches the night before the festival. Chef's tip: roll them while still warm with damp palms; once cold, the mixture won't hold.
Mysore pak was first made in the kitchens of the Mysuru palace in Karnataka, and it's still the sweet that every Mysuru sweet shop is judged by. Roasted gram flour is cooked in a sugar syrup while hot ghee is poured in a spoonful at a time, until the mixture froths up and sets into a golden, honeycombed block. This home version is the softer, melt-in-the-mouth style, with a fine porous crumb; cook it a minute or two longer for the harder, crunchier traditional slab. It keeps for a week and is made for Diwali, weddings and Dasara. Chef's tip: keep the ghee hot on a second burner the whole time; hot ghee hitting the batter is what makes it froth and form those little air holes, and cold ghee gives a dense, greasy fudge.
Mishti doi, 'sweet yogurt', is the classic end to a Bengali meal, sold in Kolkata sweet shops in unglazed clay pots. Milk is simmered until it thickens, sweetened with sugar cooked to a deep caramel, then set overnight with a little live yogurt. The result is thick, creamy and smooth, with a toffee-like sweetness and a gentle tang. Clay pots absorb excess whey, which makes it extra thick, but small glass or ceramic bowls work too. Chef's tip: cool the milk to just warm (about 40°C, comfortable on your little finger) before adding the starter; too hot kills the culture and too cool leaves it runny.
Sandesh is the most delicate of Bengal's sweets, made in Kolkata's sweet shops every morning from chhena, fresh milk curds. The chhena is kneaded until silky, cooked briefly with sugar and pressed into little rounds or moulds. It's soft, fine-textured and milky, sweet but light, often scented with cardamom or saffron. This is the soft 'norom pak' style. Serve at room temperature as a sweet with tea or after a meal. Chef's tip: hang the chhena only until it stops dripping; if it's too dry, the sandesh turn crumbly, and if too wet they won't hold a shape.
Sheer khurma means milk with dates in Persian, and in Pakistan it is the taste of Eid ul-Fitr morning: after the Eid prayer, families come home and every visitor who knocks that day is handed a small bowl. It is richer and nuttier than everyday seviyan: whole milk is boiled down until creamy, fine vermicelli fried golden in ghee goes in late, and it is loaded with soaked dried dates (chhuhare), almonds, pistachios, cashews, raisins and charoli seeds, scented with cardamom. It is served warm in the morning and thickens to a spoonable pudding when cold. The mistake most people make is adding the vermicelli too early or using too much; it keeps drinking milk as it cools and turns stodgy. Chef's tip: soak the dried dates overnight and slice them thinly; fresh soft dates melt away, but soaked chhuhare stay chewy and sweet in every spoonful.
Bal mithai belongs to Almora in Kumaon, where sweet shops on the old Lala Bazaar have sold it for well over a century. Khoya is cooked slowly with sugar until it caramelises to the colour of dark chocolate, set into bars and rolled in little white sugar balls, which give a crunchy bite against the fudgy middle. Families carry boxes of it home from the hills as the town's best-known souvenir. The flavour is deep and toffee-like, with no added colour or cocoa. Chef's tip: keep the heat low and be patient; the deep brown comes from slow caramelising over half an hour, not from turning the flame up.
Singodi is Almora's other famous sweet, sold in the same shops as bal mithai but looking nothing like it: a soft, pale mix of khoya and coconut packed into a cone of maalu leaf and pinned shut with a twig. The leaf leaves a faint green, woody scent in the sweet, which is the whole point, and people in Kumaon unwrap them at weddings and on trips home. Maalu leaves are almost impossible to buy elsewhere, so this version uses banana leaf or fresh betel (paan) leaves; both give a gentle leafy aroma. Chef's tip: wrap the singodi while the filling is still warm and leave them in the fridge overnight, so the scent of the leaf soaks in.
Daulat ki chaat appears in the lanes of Chandni Chowk only in the coldest months, from about November to February. Vendors whisk milk and cream through the night and leave it out under the winter dew, then skim off a foam so light it disappears on your tongue, topped with saffron, khoya, sugar and pistachios. It's sold before the sun gets high, because warmth destroys it. A home kitchen can't recreate a Delhi winter night, so this version uses very cold milk and cream whipped to a loose foam and layered with saffron. It comes close: airy, cool, faintly sweet. Chef's tip: chill everything, bowl and whisk included, for at least 4 hours; the colder the milk, the more stable the foam.
Kanpur's best-known sweet is a crumbly, rich laddu sold in brown paper boxes near the city's busy crossings and taken home as a souvenir from the city. It is made by roasting semolina slowly in ghee until it smells like warm biscuits, then mixing in browned khoya, sugar and plenty of cashews, giving a soft, melt-in-the-mouth bite with tiny pieces of crunch. Families make a batch for Diwali or Raksha Bandhan and keep it for a week. The biggest mistake is adding the sugar while the mixture is still hot; it melts and the laddus collapse into flat puddles. Chef's tip: if the mixture feels too dry to bind, sprinkle in warm milk a teaspoon at a time rather than adding more ghee.
Mahua trees flower across Jharkhand in March and April, and before dawn whole families gather the fallen, creamy, honey-scented flowers from the forest floor and dry them in the sun. In Santhal, Munda and Oraon homes, the dried flowers are roasted and pounded with sesame and peanuts into laddus that need almost no added sugar, a store-cupboard sweet for the lean months and for festivals like Sarhul. They taste of raisins, caramel and toasted nuts. Chef's tip: roast the flowers until they puff slightly and smell like caramel; underroasted mahua tastes raw and slightly bitter.
A crunchy, nutty barfi of roasted sesame seeds and ground peanuts set in a two-thread sugar syrup, pressed into a tray and topped with chopped peanuts. It's sweet and toasty, like a soft brittle, and keeps well. Good for fasting days and the winter festivals. Makes 20 pieces.
Chikki is an Indian brittle. This crystal version is made with plain white sugar, melted until clear and golden, with peanuts, almonds, pistachios and sesame seeds, scented with cardamom and saffron. Work quickly: the brittle sets in moments.
A no-cook barfi that children love: chopped dried fruit, nuts, crushed biscuits, cornflakes and rice krispies, with mixed peel, cherries and chocolate, all bound with butter and golden syrup and pressed into a tray. It's chewy, crunchy and full of colour. Makes about 42 squares, great for lunch boxes and party trays.
A rich nut barfi of pistachios, cashews and almonds bound with saffron milk syrup, pressed into a tray and topped with a layer of dark chocolate. It's dense, nutty and chocolatey, and cuts into neat fingers. Makes about 80, ideal for Diwali boxes.
Shrikhand is a classic Gujarati dessert of yogurt hung until thick and creamy, then sweetened and flavoured with saffron, cardamom and ground nuts. It's cool, tangy-sweet and silky. Serve it chilled with hot puris, or on its own as a dessert; add fresh fruit for fruit shrikhand.
Siro (sheera) is the Gujarati version of sooji halwa: semolina roasted in ghee until light brown, then cooked with hot saffron milk and sugar until the ghee separates. It's soft, rich and fragrant with cardamom and nuts. Serve it hot, as a festive sweet, for prasad, or as a comforting treat.
A crunchy no-bake chocolate slice: crushed rich tea biscuits, cornflakes, rice krispies and shredded wheat, nuts and coconut are bound with cocoa, margarine and golden syrup, then covered with melted chocolate. It's sweet, crisp and chocolatey, like a homemade cereal bar. Makes about 50 fingers, ideal for parties and lunch boxes.
Soft, milky pendas made from mawa (khoya) and crumbled paneer cooked down in sweetened milk, flavoured with saffron, cardamom and a little nutmeg. The mixture is pressed into small moulds to give pretty shapes. Makes 15; serve as a festive sweet or offering.
A quick almond sweet made in minutes in the microwave: semolina toasted in butter, mixed with coarsely ground almonds, saffron and sweetened condensed milk, then set in a tray. It's soft, nutty and fragrant with cardamom. Makes 20 squares, ideal when guests are on the way.
Kaju katli is one of the best-loved Indian sweets: finely ground cashews bound with a sugar and milk syrup, rolled thin, scattered with nuts and cut into diamonds. It's smooth, dense and delicately sweet with saffron and cardamom. Makes about 40 diamonds; perfect for Diwali boxes and gifts.
Kesar mani is a rich, crumbly Gujarati sweet of gram flour roasted in ghee with popped edible gum, then mixed with milk powder, coconut, ground nuts, cinnamon, cardamom and saffron. It's nutty, fragrant and warming, a favourite in the winter months. Makes 25–30 pieces.
An easy baked sweet of grated mawa (khoya) and fresh coconut mixed with warm milk, nuts, saffron, cardamom and nutmeg, baked until set and fragrant. It's soft, rich and milky, somewhere between a halwa and a pudding. Serve it hot, decorated with nuts and cardamom.
Marble squares are a soft barfi of roasted mawa (khoya), toasted thin vermicelli, coconut and crushed nuts, sweetened with castor sugar and flavoured with cardamom and saffron. They're chewy, nutty and fragrant. Makes about 35 squares; serve them at festivals or with tea.
Coconut pinwheels are a pretty no-cook sweet: a soft dough of desiccated coconut, milk powder and icing sugar is split, half coloured, rolled together into a swirl and sliced. They're sweet, coconutty and great fun for children to help make. Makes about 60 slices, perfect for party platters.
These pendas (pedas) take minutes in the microwave: milk powder, cream, sugar and ground almonds cook together into a soft fudge flavoured with cardamom and saffron, then are shaped into rounds. They're milky, nutty and melt in the mouth. Makes about 35 — press them into small moulds for pretty shapes.
Sukhdi (gol papdi) is one of the simplest Gujarati sweets: wheat flour roasted in ghee until pink and fragrant, then mixed with jaggery and aniseed and set in a tray. It's soft, crumbly and caramel-sweet, with a gentle liquorice note from the aniseed. Makes about 25 squares and keeps well for travelling.
Sweet bundi are tiny pearls of gram flour batter, fried until just set and tossed in warm saffron and cardamom syrup with flaked nuts. They're soft, juicy and bright orange. Serve as a festive sweet or offering, or spoon over rabdi or ice cream.
A modern layered barfi: a chewy base of dates, coconut, cornflakes, chocolate cereal and pistachio, a creamy top of condensed milk, cashews and almonds, and a marbled dark and white chocolate finish. It's rich, crunchy and silky all at once. Makes 35–40 rectangles; great for parties and gift boxes.
A quick carrot halwa made in the microwave: grated carrots cooked tender in ghee, milk and sugar, then enriched with fresh mawa (khoya) and plenty of almonds, cashews and pistachios. It's soft, sweet and fragrant with cardamom. Serve hot with vanilla ice cream.
A quick no-cook barfi made from crushed wheat biscuit cereal and tea biscuits bound with butter and sweetened condensed milk, with coconut, nuts, nutmeg and saffron. It's chewy, sweet and easy enough for children to help with. Makes 40 pieces.
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