By Blogger Christine Moughamian
One Yogini, Many Paths
April 13 was Armenian Good Friday.
It also was the day my mother in France received the Armenian breads I’d baked here last week on our Good Friday. She had passed on to me my grandmother’s recipe that she had mastered over the years. In turn, I used it to bake from scratch Armenian breads for the first time in my life.
When I spoke to my mother on the phone, she had just opened her package. She enjoyed seeing the breads – golden, shiny braid and spirals – as much as eating them. She kept close to her a photo my boyfriend took when I was kneading the dough.
With emotion in her voice, my mother said: “When I look at your hands, I am happy and proud. Our Armenian family tradition has been passed on.”