Kaju barfi
Cashew, cut in diamonds
Barfi, peda and jeri made in the back since before the shop opened, sold by the kilo until it goes. Come early for the lal mohan.
Cashew, cut in diamonds
Plain, from the morning khuwa
Green, and green because of the pista
Rolled by hand, thumbprint and all
Fried at six, gone by eleven
Coiled hot into the syrup
Weekends and festival days
Rice flour, fried this morning
In syrup, sold in the tub
Thickened down all morning
From Bhaktapur, set in the pot
Made here, not bought in
Nine pieces, four kinds
Twenty pieces, six kinds
Two days' notice, your six kinds
Ason has sold sweets to Kathmandu for longer than anyone kept a record of, and this counter has been on the same corner of it since 1978. Hari Prasad Shrestha learned the kadhai from his father and now argues with his daughter about it; she runs the till and has started writing the day's list on a slate by the door. The khuwa is still made here rather than bought, which is the one thing nobody in the family will put to a vote.
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