This post is dedicated to my Grand mom. She’s the first baker I knew. I grew up eating her pressure cooker cakes for Christmas and birthdays. She was one strong woman who left the country she was born and raised (then British Malaya, now Singapore), married a stranger chosen by her family and moved to India during World War 2, bore 8 kids, raised them with discipline and values, worked as a school Principal all her life, worked post-retirement just to keep herself occupied and took her last breath on her birthday at the ripe age of 80. Grand dad was the typical chauvinist husband. Nothing much to write home about.