adukkala

Inji Thairu

2009-10-17T06:19:00.000-07:00

This is about 'Inji Thayir.' You can spell it differently, like 'Injithayir,' or 'Inji Thair,' or 'Injithairu,' or whatever way. Whatever way you spell it, the name contains the two main ingredients, though the ingredients are three - 'Inji,' the good old, ginger and 'thayir,' which is nothing but curd, as many of you know.

Before beginning to write this post, I did a googling on my subject, to check out whether anyone else in the virtual realm has ever heard of this delicacy from central Kerala. And out popped none other than dear old, Inji ! Way back in 2007, the Ginger Girl had faithfully dug out the humble and simple dish of 'Injithair' as part of a 'JFI-Ginger.' And, then I found not one but quite numerous recipes of 'Injithair,' including one from Ammini Ramachandran.

The methods suggested were almost similar, and the ingredients the same all the time. Except for some interesting suggestions. But, before delving into the differences, let me talk about my version of 'Injithairu.'

The 'Injithairu' that I grew up with was served exclusively during the birthday feasts. Many of you, especially the Malayalees, must be knowing what a traditional birthday feast in Kerala means. For one thing, Malayalees, (most of them, at least) celebrate birthdays on the birth star, according to the traditional astrological system. For example, if a child is born on a certain date, like today, which is October 17, her birth star would be ....' in the Malayalam month of 'Thulam.' So, every year, the birthday would be celebrated on the .... star on the month of Thulam.

These days, most kids have two birthdays. The birth star is often celebrated at home, with parents, grand parents, complete with a traditional feast and a visit to the local temple, in the case of practising Hindus. The date of birth, or the English birthday, will be celebrated with friends. Some kids, like my seven year old nephew, demand a cake and candles for the 'date-of-birth' birthday, with a small party thrown in for his friends !

So, inji thairu has always been a must item for the birth day celebrations in my family. I haven't seen it as a must item for other occasions that call for a sadya, like Onam or Vishu or even the wedding feasts. We can make it, if you feel like, but its not mandatory. But, for the 'Pirannal Sadya,' it is a must.

The method is nothing much to describe. As I have never been good with measurements, please excuse me this time too. Please do not expect conventional recipes from me, as I've warned early on before. Just take a couple of green chillies, firm and deep green, and a piece of ginger. Chop the green chillies into slightly thick rounds, not thin slices. Also, chop the ginger to almost equal size. Then, crush both together lightly with a mortar / pestle, but never grind. Just crush lightly, sometimes, a pinch of salt is also crushed along with chillies and ginger. Transfer the crushed mixture into a bowl, add some curd and adjust the salt. The green of the chillies should be visible. This is served on the left, lower tip of the plantain leaf. (There is an ongoing debate in our family whether the injithairu, puliyinchi and other pickles should be served on the lower part of the leaf or the upper part ! But, more on the placing of food on the plantain leaf later.)

Another occasion when this 'Injithairu' is a mandatory item, is, interestingly, associated with the Sradham, the after death ceremonies according to the Hindu beliefs. After the 'Shraaddham,' ceremony, a portion of the rice made as offering to the departed souls should be eaten by all those who performed the rituals. This rice, which is usually 'unakkalari,' the unhusked rice cooked without straining away the gruel, is eaten with 'inji thairu.' In Kerala, this ritual is called, 'Shesham Kollal,' which means partaking the remaining portions.

It is quite significant that the same dish acquires an auspicious status during the ceremonies associated both with birth and death ! It really tells a lot about the Indian philosophy and outlook of life, I believe. Both birth and death are viewed as part of the same process, according to the Indian traditions. The traditional 'Asuddhi,' (ritualistic status of pollution) ascribed to death is also there for birth as well, though hardly observed these days except in relation to the temple rituals.

So, as someone had commented in Inji's post, this dish is also considered equal to '101 curries.' The referance is to the popular myth of 'Parayi Pettu Panthirukulam.' I might have to dedicate a whole post to talk about this wonderful myth, so here I will only give a brief description. It refers to the travels of a cursed couple, the Brahmin called Vararuchi and his wife who was born of low caste parents. How the Brahimn came to marry this girl from a caste which was situated much lower in the rung of traditional caste hierarchy was the beginning of the myth. Vararuchi, who was one of the wisest men in Bharath of those days, happened to hear some birds discuss his future one day. Being fluent in the language of all living beings, Vararuchi was aghast to learn that his fate was to marry a girl born of a lower caste couple. In those days, it surely mean social ostrasization for him. Fearing the worst, Vararuchi set out to find the girl who was, interestingly, born on that very day. He found the house, and some how or other, got hold of the new born and managed in setting her afloat on a floating barge in a neighbouring river.

Some 16 years later, he happened to be the guest at a Brahmin household. As per his habit, there also, Vararuchi decided to test the intelligence of his host. He put forth some tough tasks for the host if Vararuchi was to accept his 'athithyam,' which included a demand for 101 curries for the dinner. The worried Brahmin host was consoled by his daughter, who prepared just 'Injithair' for the revered guest. Satisfied at his host's intelligent response, Vararuchi was surprised to learn that it was the daughter's idea. He decided to marry the girl. And, on the first night of their marriage, he discovered the truth that this girl was the same one he had set afloat on the river years ago ! She was rescued by this childless Brahmin couple, who brought her up as their daughter.

The rest of the story is long. How Vararuchi and his wife started their life long travels, how 12 children were born to them and how each of them were abandoned and how each one was brought up by people belonging to different caste and creed and finally how all of them recognised each other. Each of these individuals is part of a great lore in Kerala, repeated off and on in every spoken or written discourse.

Well, so much so for the power of 'Injithairu.' And, the differences I found in some of the posts can now be listed out. Inji has instructed to grind the ginger. This I have not seen before. We just chop it do equal pieces. No grinding. Ammini Ramachandran instructs to season the dish with mustard, dried red pepper and curry leaves ! This does not deserve the name, as far as I am concerned ! Sorry dear Ammini, but I wonder in which part of Kerala this dish is prepared in that way. In Another site, 'Khana,' ginger and green chillies are ground in a blender, and again, seasoned with mustard, red pepper and curry leaves.

Interestingly, a journalist friend whose husband hails from Kannur district, used to make a different version of ginger and curd dish which was prepared in Kannur, according to her. She would grind ginger with coconut and just blend it into curd. No seasoning or nothing. But it had tasted divine. This was kind of a staple curry in her husband's home in Kannur, she had said. I wonder if any of the bloggers from that part of Kerala can enlighten me further on this dish.

Well, more or Parayi Pettu Panthirukulam and Pirannal Sadya later.

I'm back !

2009-10-09T10:39:00.000-07:00

It has been a long, long time since I posted anything in this blog. That does not in any way, mean I have been inactive regarding the blogosphere. My other blog, SpaceOut, was taking up a whole lot of my time. As also my main activity of editing a web journal, Art Concerns.

In the meanwhile, I know that my blog has gathered many a follower. Nine, in total ! And, I kept getting comments from the few posts I have made so far. Which all I found a little suprising due to many reasons. For once, I have never posted any recipe as such. And, it is nearly two years since I made any new post. With all that, if people still find my blog interesting, well, it should be interesting, I realised. Also, I felt a certain responsibility towards all those who were keeping a tab over my blog.

In between, the fellow blogger,Shn of Kitchen Mishmash had contacted me over email seeking some information for one of her posts. I promptly replied, which she prompty appreciated. Shn is a blogger whose interests extend beyond recipes. She's also interested in the history of food, how a particular cuisine evolved over the years, which also happens to be my core area of interest.

I love food. Equally, or more than that, I'm intrigued by the history of food. By the sociology of food, you could say. I believe that you can understand a people by the food they eat. You can understand the evolution of a people's culture through the evolution of their food culture. Food is part of history. Food is history.

For example, just think about Kerala food. Of the chile peppers, which were introduced by the Portuguese. (I think this had already been mentioned in some of my older posts). Can we now imagine a cuisine of Kerala without the fiery chillies ? Can we think of the chillies without thinking of the Portuguese landing on the soil of Kerala ? Or think of tapioca, bread fruit, cashew nuts, so on and so forth. Even the Malayalam names of these vegetables tell stories. The fiery green chillies are called as 'Paranki Mulaku,' or 'Paranki Maanga,' (cashew mango), 'Paranki Andi,' (cashewnut), with the affix, 'Paranki' denoting the Portuguese. Again, the word must have derived out of 'firangi,' the Hindi / Urdu (I'm not sure which language exactly) word for 'foreigner.' Since the Portuguese were the first 'foreigners' to invade Kerala, the use of the word, 'firangi' to describe them must have been normal.

So, I think it is time that I started posting again. Thank you, all the friends out there who kept following my never-updated-blog ! And thanks for all the comments that I kept receiving in my posts even to the last week. And,a big thanks to Shn who mailed me, for a small info, egging me on to think and write about food again !

And, I have quite a few other reasons to start writing on food as well. Because, after a break of some years even, I've started cooking again ! For some of you at least, this might seem a bit unbelievable. How a woman survives without cooking in this big, bad world ! And, especially someone who loves food as much as myself !

Well, I don't want to go into lengthy explanations. Only this much. I was not cooking just because I could not stand at the stove for longer durations for some years due to a physical condition, which is almost healed now. And, for the past two years, I was recovering from an angle injury that did not let me even enter the kitchen. But I clubbed my recovery process with my kitchen activities, as I love to spend any spare time there. Kitchen is one of the favourite hanging out nooks in our Kochi flat. It is no big deal, just a smallish space, with an L-shaped typical concrete slabbed cubby hole. But, it has a large window, that looks over the road inside our housing colony, with an everblooming cassia tree (konna) and another large flowering tree in front. Within a city, this is nothing short of paradise. And, sitting at my kitchen window, I can get a fair idea of all the happenings in the colony, which kids are out playing, which moms are running after the tiny babies just learning to walk, even listen to what all gossips people engage in !

To top it all, this May, we gave a facelift to our flat. Some long-pending repairs, a coat of repainting and the addition of a cupboard, a few mirrors and light shades, along with renovated bathrooms - whew ! Suddenly we were living in a new space ! The kitchen paint was changed, from the earlier mud-shade to the soft, greenish white of the other parts of the flat. Now, its fun cooking in a bright, soft-hued room, with brand new cupboards !

So, its back to the basics again ! I had to remind myself the the processes from almost five years back ! And, I discovered happily that nothing much was forgotten. Well, cooking IS fun !

Rajan has also started taking pictures of the food he cooks. I have to prompt him more as he wants to finish up the food the moment its in the dishes ! But now he's busy collecting beatiful serving dishes, so I hope there'll be more pictures soon !

Even now, Rajan is the chef. He tastes and approves/ disapproves my culinary experiments. And finds more time for culinary explorations by himself. He has also set up a kitchenette in his studio where lunch is cooked, as also the evening tea. Our driver boy who resides there cooks his breakfast and dinner there too. Altogether, the kitchen fires are quite hectic these days.

For the past one month, immediately after Onam, I was at Thiruvananthapuram, the southernmost district of Kerala, the capital city. I was staying at the Rural Centre of SEWA (Self Employed Women's Association) at Vilappilsala, a hilly suburb of Thiruvananthapuram, while I went through ayurvedic treatment. The food, provided by SEWA, was essentially the regional cuisine of Thiruvanathapuram.

Well, it will be quite an exaggeration and untruthfulness to say I enjoyed the food immensely. It was quite healthy, wholesome food, cooked by the lovely ladies who work at the SEWA's kitchens. The chief cooks are two - Santha and Lalitha, lovingly called Santha Chechi and Lalitha Chechi (shortened to 'Shanthechi' and 'Lalithechi') by every one. (The suffix - 'chechi' means 'elder sister' in Malayalam). Quite sincere women, who enjoy feeding others. At the SEWA kitchen, they sometimes have to cook for real large number of people. While I was staying there, a group of students from the Pallikkodam Public School in Kottayam stayed at their dormitory for two or three days. The students had come for a sports meet. They were provided dinner and breakfast for three days. The breakfast had to be parcelled as the children left early morning, at 6 a.m. for the meet venue. So, the staff got up at around 3 in the morning, to prepare bread and omlettes for about 45 students !

But, my essential problem with the food there was the regional variation ! In southern Kerala, especially in Thiruvanathapuram, Kollam and Kottayam districts, there is an overwhelming use of garlic in literally almost everything. Which is tantamount to sacrilege in my part of Kerala. Here, in Thrissur and the some parts of Palakkad district, we never use garlic with vegetables. Garlic is used only in Rasam, or while cooking non-vegetarian fare. But, down south, it is omnipresent. Also, the use of coconut was also a bit overwhelming for my middle-Kerala taste buds. Here, we use coconut sparingly, while in Thiruvananthapuram, each and every dish was saturated with coconut. While I love coconut, having two or three curries, all thick in consistency and heavy with coconut was ... a bit too much !

Another interesting thing about the 'upperi's that I found in Thiruvananthapuram was the size of the vegetables. Almost all vegetables for the stir fry (upperi / thoran) were cut - not 'cut' but literally slivered - into the tiniest morsels, to the point that you could never guess the vegetable unless told ! To me, everything looked the same, and tasted the same ! It really is a different world of taste, in deed !

A story on Pazhampori

2007-12-07T04:52:00.001-08:00

I recently happened to re-read a Malayalam short story. The odd thing, it was written by one of the well-known Malayalam poets – a few of his attempts at writing fiction. The writer is Edassery Govindan Nair, or just Edassery, for Malayalis. The story is now almost half a century old and its name is ‘Poricha Nanju.’

Now, I don’t know if these two words could ever be translated with equal force into English. Literally, it means, ‘fried poison.’ But, these two English words are never powerful enough to express the meanings hidden in the two words, ‘poricha nanju.’ While ‘visham,’ is the most commonly used Malayalam word for poison, ‘nanju,’ is more colloquial. But 'visham,' can never express the meaning that 'nanju,' can convey. And, the reference is to, ‘Pazhampori,’ (banana fritters) !

There you are ! You must have been wondering till now, what the hell has a Malayalam short story got to do in a food blog ? Yes, this is a story about ‘pazhampori,’ a favourite snack of many of our blogger-friends, I’m sure.

The milieu, as I told earlier, is almost half a century ago. The poet died in 1974. The story happens in a period corresponding to his own childhood. The protagonist is a young boy, barely ten years, even younger, may be. The setting is a ‘Marumakkathaya Tharavadu,’ in the central region of Kerala. Here, a few words for those who are not familiar with ‘Marumakkathayam.’

‘Marumakkathayam,’ is not exactly what the Western academics refer to as Matriarchy. It is matriliny, to an extent, but not exactly. Because it is male-centric, after all ! An exact translation could be - lineage / descent of the family name through ‘marumakkal,’ (nieces / nephews of a man through his sister), while ‘makkathayam,’ could be described as the lineage through offspring. In both cases, the issue at stake is a man’s descendants and the mode of continuing his family name !

However, ‘Marumakkathayam,’ extends certain concessions to women, who were, after all, carriers of the man’s family name and legacy. Unlike in ‘Makkathayam,’ they were not considered as unwanted births, to be ‘married off,’ never to return. They were conferred a higher social status, they inherited family property and the family home. They did not live in the eternal fear of being shown the door by an irate mother-in-law. At their husband’s homes, where they visited occasionally, they were treated as special guests. And their welfare was taken care of by the uncles, or the brothers. Well, that was it. It meant, their happiness was determined by the menfolk, just like all other social systems. Even sisters hardly showed their faces before their brothers. Even in rich households, Karanavar held the key to the store room, measuring out the day’s needs almost like a rationing system. He could make or break the lives of the womenfolk of his family. And, families without an elder male member still felt a certain sense of insecurity.

The system disappeared due to many reasons, and this is not the space to elaborate on that. Here, we have this story of ‘pazhampori,’ which turned out to be the fried poison for a young lad. But how ?

He lived in his tharavadu, with his mother, two sisters and elderly grand-mother. No uncles, or elder brothers. A male-less family, laden with all the associated insecurities. Both sisters were married and the elder one had a child, just younger than our protagonist. Though they were uncle and nephew in relationships, the two boys grew up like brothers, the younger one addressing the elder not as ‘uncle,’ but as ‘ettan,’ or elder brother. Now, the elder sister was estranged from her husband, not due to any discord between the couple, but due to some family feuds. This was common in those days, the writer tells us.

So, one day, following a slight skirmish between the two kids, the elder sister, without any reason, violently thrashed her son, apparently to give vent to her own tensions. The whole house fell into a pall of gloom. The next morning, the elder sister’s husband appeared on his way to office and handed over a parcel to his child. Again we are informed that though the relationship was almost broken, he was still allowed to give occasional gifts to his child. Apparently, the elder sister had sent word to him for this little token to compensate for the thrashing the baby suffered the previous day.

Now, the young ‘uncle’ knew the parcel contained ‘pazhampori,’ the most special treat those days. ‘Pazhampori,’ could be obtained only from the local tea-shop, and only those who had access to cash could afford it. He remembers the only previous time he had tasted it, and reminiscing the heavenly taste, hopes for a share of the treat. But, all the two pazhampori-s were fed to the younger boy, by his mother, who also wanted to vent her ire towards her own kid brother. The younger sister comes to learn of this. Childless, she harboured a special affection for her little brother. The next day, she sends the kid brother out with her husband, who buys him a parcel from the tea shop, with instructions to take it safely to his wife. But, the aged grandmother happened to see it and with extreme desire, pinched off a bit. The younger sister appeared dramatically and literally grabbing the parcel out of the old woman’s trembling hands, dragged the little boy into her room. As if with a vengeance, she force-fed both the pazhampori-s to the lad, who is torn between his never-ending craving the sweet treat and his longing to share it with his grand-mother and the young nephew. When he came out, the little boy, Ramakrishnan, found out what the entire racket had been about and started to cry his heart out, asking for pazhampori. The protagonist felt as if he had swallowed not the sweet pazhampori, but poison fried in oil.

I know that this is no way to do justice to a beautiful story, but I just couldn’t resist it, much like the little boy, who swallowed the last bit of the pazhampori, trying to forget his grandmother’s trembling hands.

I liked this story not for its craft alone. It sheds light into the social situation in a Kerala a few decades ago, which has become long-forgottten history for our present generation. It also reveals how rare was food, in general, in those days. And it also teaches us how precious were the simple treats of those days. These days, hundreds of pazhampori-s are gobbled up everyday at tea time across Kerala, at tea shops, bigger restaurants, offices, homes, everywhere. There is an over-abundance of food items all over the place. But I don’t think we will ever experience the taste of pazhampori like the boy in that Edassery story. The taste of scarcity.

Vidyarambham

2007-10-21T04:28:00.000-07:00

Happy Saraswati Pooja !!!

This is how we celebrated Vijayadashami at our Ernakulam flat. As I am still recovering from a foot injury, we couldn't go to Irinjalakuda for the Vijayadashami. Though we had not arranged a 'poojaveyppu,' (worshipping of the books), I wanted to observe the 'ezhuthu,' or writing, which is the most important aspect of Vijayadashami. Usually, on Durgashtami Day evening, all the tools of work (mainly books), will be wrapped up neatly and placed before an idol of Krishna, with all the lamps lit around it. So, no reading or home work for the next day !

On Vijayadashami Day, after lighting all the lamps, a handful of sand will be spread on the floor. A lit traditional bronze lamp (Nilavilakku) and Thunchath Ezhuthachan's 'Adhyathma Ramayanam,' will be placed nearby. Father would sit in front of the sand and write 'Harisree Ganapathaye Namah' in Malayalam script, followed by a couple of sloka-s praising Saraswati and all our Guru-s. Then, the complete Malayalam alphabet, starting from 'A, aa,' followed by Devanagari (representing Sanskrit). (I started adding the English alphabet after English became my professional language). After writing, he would pick up the Ramayanam and read a couple of verses, marking the ending of worshipping the goddess of Knowledge.

Vijayadashami had always been the festival of worshipping Knowledge for Malayalees. I don't know if Saraswati is worshipped with this much fervour in any other Indian states. Vijayadashami is also the day for everyone to start the learning of music and dance. Children are also initiated into the world of letters on this day. These days, the Vidyarambham is a big event, with functions being arranged in major temples, as well as in secular institutions. Even Christian churches arrange Vidyarambham these days.

Today, at our flat, we made a simple ceremony with a plate of raw rice for the auspicious writing. Though clean sand is used, raw rice is considered the most auspicious, especially for the children's 'Vidyarambham.' We had no sand, hence the rice. Then, Rajan lit the Nilavilakku, arranged some fruits, including a piece of sugarcane, oranges, an apple and a sappotta (which is not part of the traditional arrangement, but just for the sake of appearance !), put a small metal Nataraja (which we had bought from the Gujarat Emporium), and I placed an old copy of Adhyathma Ramayanam nearby. Rajan's tablas can be seen in the background. And on the rice is written 'Harisree' in Malayalam.

A refreshing way to pay respects to the Vidya we practice !

Moloshyam

2007-05-27T07:11:00.000-07:00

Having a dental job done is one of my worst nightmares. Not only mine, I realised of late as I bumped against one after another of friends with strong dentist-phobia. I even realised that I might be the bravest of all, even. More so because I have a nice dentist who at least comforts you and describes meticulously what all her instruments had been poking in and scrapping away at some of the most sensitive spots in your mouth.

But the worst part of a dental treatment is the after-part, for me. I simply hate that 'after-taste' of chemicals, flavoured with a dash of cloves. Why they use so much of cloves in everything associated with the dental stuff so as to make you hate cloves for the rest of your lives ! And the abhorrent mouth-washes !!! Just one mouthful and it is enough to make your taste buds warp down and scrap away the whole lining of your mouth. Add to it the gels that leaves a sense of numbness and a course of antibiotics that plays havoc with your taste, mouth and your stomach.

So, for the past one week, I had been going through all this, worser than ever as this time it was a surgical procedure for the gums. The 'procedure' itself was brief, but the after-effect not so brief ! One week later, I can't still chew properly, nor can I have anything spicier than bread soaked in milk or idlies soaked in moloshyam. Yes, moloshyam, that's what inspired this whole diatribe about the dental problems.

I don't how familiar are the Malayalees from other parts of Kerala with this curry, but in the part where I hail from, this is a staple. 'Moloshyam,' or 'Mulakushyam,' ('l' pronounced as in, what should I say, 'Kerala,'), is actually a 'corruption' or a shortening of 'Mulaku dooshyam.' Literally meaning, 'Chillies are bad !' The etymology can be anything, but the curry is least spicy. Of course you can make it hotter by adding more green chillies, but it can be the least spicy, comfort food for the convalescing.

Tuvar dal and ash gourd are the ingredients of the basic moloshyam. There can be many, many other variants. But, learn the basics first. As I had said earlier, I don't know the measures. I just make it. Here's how I make the basic moloshyam -

I take some tuvar dal, wash it well and put it to boil. Then, chop up some ash gourd into bite-size pieces, add it to the dal, add a pinch of turmeric powder and, usually I pressure cook it. Pressure cooking is the easiest and fastest method with all dals, you know. You can cook both the dal and gourd together as ash gourd takes some time to cook, also because this curry needs it cooked to a mushy consistency. You can add salt if you are using a pressure cooker, if not, add the salt only towards the end. Otherwise, salt has a tendency to slow down the cooking process. Also, add a few drops of oil (coconut oil, for me), before you close the lid, so that the dal will not cause overflowing through the valves. If you want to make it hot, add green chillies, according to your taste, also. Only green chillies, no red chilly powder.

If you are using a powerful pressure pan, cook until two or three hisses. Then turn down the heat and leave it till the steam cools down. The steam will continue the cooking process. After you open the lid, stir the curry, check the salt and simmer without lid for a few minutes, till that 'steamed' smell leaves. Then, add a generous handful of curry leaves (crush them in your hand slightly after washing so that they release the fragrance), and drizzle some coconut oil. Coconut oil, it has to be, mind you all cholesterol-phobiacs, otherwise, this is not moloshyam. You can call it by any other name !!! Those who are scared of coconut, fearing it will build walls within their arteries, can keep their hands off this lovely dish.

So, after the curry leaves and oil, just keep the curry in the cooking vessel, and close lightly. Let it sit there for some time before serving, to let the tastes blend well.

This is the basic moloshyam. Once you have mastered this, there can be endless improvisations. The ash gourd can be replaced by any vegetable, except something mushy like vendakka (okra) or vazhuthinanga (baigan). I've once tasted an exquisite moloshyam with dal and carrot. Chena (elephant-foot yam), makes a great combo. As well as raw banana. Moloshyam can also be made with chena and banana alone, without dal.

Asking recipes !

2007-02-14T09:10:00.000-08:00

Today I received a mail. The lovely Sumitha of Kitchen Wonders had left comments at my blogs - both at Adukkala and the other one, Green Banana Leaf. Thank you Sumi for visiting my blogs.

But, truly, her request for recipes put me off a little bit at first. Recipes, what recipes, I wondered. Then, after checking the Green Banana Leaf, I realised that she was asking for the recipes of some Thiruvathira dishes I had mentioned.

I have to admit that the request for recipes has really put me in a difficult situation. Because, I don't know recipes ! It is true. Coming to think of it, I had grown up never thinking in terms of recipes. Never seen anyone cooking out of recipes. The only experience I had in dealing with recipes was when I was working for a women's magazine (yes, I have done that also). For the benefit of those who don't know how magazines are made, one regular chore for me was opening the old folder in the shelf and sifting through the recipes stacked away, send by faithful housewives who loved to see their names in print. The recipes were picked up mostly based on their length, like can this theeyal recipe fill this blank space here ?

That was way back in 1994/5. My own culinary experiences had started around that period too. I will have to confess that my culinary experiences / explorations are rather limited. I never learnt cooking from home. Not even how to make tea. There were other things, more important, always. Never gave a second thought even to what I ate, really.

In 1994, I started working, after completing my journalism post-diploma. The first job paid Rs. 750 per month ! At 'Indian Communicator,' an English newspaper (pretty short-lived), run by the Diocese of Cochin, from Thoppumpady in Ernakulam / Kochi. I still remember my first trip over the Venduruthy Bridge, crossing over to Fort Kochi, the Western Kochi region, experiencing the thrill of travelling over the sprawling backwaters along the narrow bridge, in the speeding red-coloured city bus, watching the railway tracks running parallel to the bridge, the ships anchored at the distant Port and the fishing boats speeding under the bridge. I thought, here is the heart of Kochi. At the office of 'Indian Communicator,' I wrote a piece on my impressions on crossing over to Fort Kochi, and was immediately offered a job - at Rs. 750 per month. Any amount of salary was ok then. I just wanted a job.

The 'Indian Communicator' and its sister publication in Malayalam, 'Sadvartha,' employed many girls, most of them fresh out of journalism courses as sub-editors. We all stayed together in a house arranged by the management, which meant the Church. It was an experience, seven or eight girls, all equally inexperienced in cooking and all harbouring great ambitions on a journalistic career, sharing a living space.

We drew up a weekly time table for cooking, ensuring that all took turns at the kitchen. I took care that I was teamed with the one most proficient in kitchenwork, so that I could escape the dreaded task of real cooking. Doing the dishes I found ok. (And that was something I continued to do, for years to come, whoever might be my companions).

There, at that rented house in Thoppumpady, I started my first forays into making food. Learning to light the kerosene stove (I've forgotten that now), learning to make tea and even attempting some curries. When my father visited, I made him some tea, with all the haughtiness I could muster. He must have been appalled, but nonetheless, he never showed !!!

The Thoppumpadi life lasted only six months, but it seems like an age. We celebrated Onam there, trying to cook up the sadya. I taught everyone how the vegetables should be cut for aviyal, as I had watched the process at home. We tried to make sambar, but ended up with something like rasam. (or was it the other way, I don't remember). Whatever be the results, the sadya was fabulous for all of us.

We kept a frugal kitchen. In the beginning of every month, we would pool money and purchase rice, dal and something like vanpayar (red beans). Then, till the meagre salaries were completely squandered, we would eat at every restaurant in Thoppumpady Junction. The masaladosa at Vasantha Vihar was a treat, affordable only in the first week of the month. Afterwards, there was the Nethaji Cafe, where we could get a masaladosa and tea for six rupees. In the evenings, just before the duty started (we all worked the night shifts), some of us would go out, to eat porotta and beef / egg curry at some small shack like restaurant. For the menfolk at these two newspapers there were any number of watering holes at the junction, ranging from seedy bars to arrack shops.

My culinary adventures stopped soon after. The hostel life resumed once more, to my dread. There was no other option while working at Mathrubhumi in Kozhikode. After one and half years of dread, I reached Kochi again. After experimenting with hostel life for a couple of months, I quit and moved over with a friend.

There, my encounters with the kitchen started again. My friend could cook, but we cooked just for survival. For dinner, in fact. I could get breakfast and lunch at the office canteen. Dinner was always simple. Rice, which would be cooked in the traditional way. One mezhukkupuratti, which would usually be of cheera, payar or vazhuthananga. The 'ozhichukari' will invariably be 'puli.' From where we learnt this 'venthayappuli' I don't remember. It was just tamarind juice, seasoned at first with mustard, fenugreek, dried red chillies and curry leaves and boiled well with a dash of turmeric powder. Rice, cheera and puli - that was heavenly food.

Life changed drastically again. A few tumultuous months later, I left Mathrubhumi and started writing for The Hindu. Once good money started coming in, I also started to realise that something called good food also existed. Methodical exploration of the city's restaurants began. That time, I was staying as a paying guest with an old lady in Panampilly Nagar. An army widow, she had also lived for a good time in England.

It was at her house that I came across the concept of fine dining. Her table presented a whole range of new food for me, even though my being a vegetarian had prevented her from offering her non-vegetarian range to me. That was the first time I was seeing kitchen scales and someone actually measuring for recipes. Her kitchen had a clock as well. Molly Auntie had a Bihari cook, a young man who would come every week to cook exquisite Bihari food for her. He (I forgot his name, or never knew it), would work in the kitchen silently and methodically. There was an order and rhythm in everything he did. Silently, he would labour over the most perfect and simplest dal and vegetables. Seeing him at work, I learnt that cooking can be an art.

After three or four months, my life (or culinary revelry) at Molly Auntie's house came to an end, as she had to join her daughter abroad. I rented a house, alongwith a friend.

At this second floor house in SRM Road, I proudly set up my first kitchen. Armed with a 'Butterfly' stove, 'Prestige' pressure cooker, one 'cheenachatti,' a couple of other pots and plates and spoons, me and my friend set up house. As she was travelling too much, I was left mostly alone to fend for myself. There I learnt the basics of feeding myself.

Well, that was all I ever achieved ! Feeding myself. I had never been a well-versed cook. And, even that I stopped almost later on, after setting up house with my partner. It is quite intriguing. Normally women start cooking after marriage. I stopped.

So, all this brings back the question of recipes that Sumi asked. I told you, I don't know recipes. I just know methods. How things are made. And so, Sumi, here's how we make the Thiruvathira dishes at home - there can be many, many variations of these same dishes. But this is how I have known them.

Muthirappuzhukku
An essential must for the Thiruvathira day. The main ingredients are muthira (horse gram) and the tuber called kavuthu (kachil) I think its scientific name is Dioscorea alata. Its a seasonal vegetable and is available in markets in Kerala during December. It was a common plant that would grow wildly, needing not much care in the backyards.

So, the muthira and kavuthu / kachil are just boiled together, with salt. Don't ask me for quantities. Use your common sense. There should be an equal quantity of muthira and the tuber pieces in the puzhukku. Cooking muthira has become an easy job with the advent of pressure cooking. Otherwise, it was a long process that started the previous day.

When the muthira and kavuthu are well-cooked, add some coconut paste, prepared before. A small quantity of jeera could be added to the paste, nothing more. Cook again for some more minutes, add some coconut oil and sprigs of curry leaves, just before or after removing from fire. And keep covered for some time, so that the flavours of coconut oil and curry leaves could mix well.

Koovappayasam
Koova is nothing but arrowroot. The flour made from arrowroot was prepared prior to Thiruvathira earlier. But these days, you can get the powder from shops, especially medical shops ! The powder is mixed with water and boiled. Again, please don't ask me for quantities. I still don't know. When the mixture starts boiling, add jaggery. If you want to do away with the impurities in jaggery, you can melt it beforehand and seive the syrup. After adding jaggery, continue boiling, till it starts to get a viscous consistency. You have to be extremely careful at this time if you want to get the perfect consistency. If you want jelly-like pieces that could be cut, continue the boiling for a few more minutes. Otherwise stop at the viscous consistency. It will harden furthern when it cools. Just at that moment, sprinkle some roughly scrapped coconut. Ideally it is the scrappings of tender coconuts used. This will provide a 'bite' in the payasam.

Hope you all are confused enough. If you want more accurate recipes, just google for thiruvathirappuzhukku. Ammupatti's blog also gives some Thiruvathira recipes, though they are more or less Tamil Brahmin style.

Upperi and Upkari

2006-12-16T22:41:00.000-08:00

The wonderful Shilpa of Aayi's Recipes have been giving a fairly detailed description of the Konkani cuisine. I had been fascinated by the similarities between the cuisines of Kerala and the Konkan region. I would like to elaborate upon some of these likenesses.

A common term found in Konkani cuisine is 'upkari,' which is the stir fried vegetable dish with coconut. In Malayalam, it is 'upperi.' Especially in the central part of Kerala, 'upperi' is the generic name for all types of dry vegetable side dishes, with or without coconut. The term 'thoran' used to be more in usage in the southern parts of Kerala but now has spread out to other parts too. Generally a dish is called 'thoran' when coconut is added, with a seasoning of mustard, urad dal, green chillies and curry leaves. In some parts of Thrissur district, the coconut is added to the seasoning first and then fried to a reddish brown, before adding the vegetables cut finely. This is especially popular for cabbage thoran.

But, mostly, the coconut is added towards the end of cooking the vegetables, often with a dash of green chillies and shallots crushed together.

The mezhukkupuratti, on the other hand, has no coconut. In its purest form, mezhukkupuratti has only the seasoning of fresh coconut oil. Just a little water is added to the vegetables, which are almost stir-fried in a smattering of oil. This was the way the mezhukkupuratti was cooked in upper caste households where onion was taboo. Otherwise, a seasoning of onion and red chillies, sliced or crushed together, is popular. Sometimes, garlic also will be added, but the use of garlic was also taboo in many households.

In Kerala, a 'koottan,' and an 'upperi,' is the basic, must, combo for every meal. The basic minimum requirement of any decent meal !

മലയാളത്തില്‍ ഒരു കൈ

2006-10-27T09:16:00.000-07:00

മലയാ‍ളം ഇന്‍സ്റ്റാള്‍ ചെയ്തിട്ട് ആദ്യത്തെ പോസ്റ്റാണ്. പരീക്ഷണാടിസ്ഥാനത്തില്‍ മാത്രുഭൂമി ഓണപ്പതിപ്പില്‍ ദേവകി നിലയങ്ങോട് എഴുതിയ ലേഖനത്തില്‍ നിന്ന് കുറച്ചു ഭാഗം പകര്‍ത്തിനോക്കട്ടെ -

“ഓണവിഭവങ്ങളില്‍ ഏറ്റവും വെദഗ്ദ്യം വേണ്ടത് കാളനുണ്ടാക്കാനാണ്. "
എന്റമ്മേ, ഇത്രയുമായപ്പോഴേക്കും വിയര്‍ത്തു പോയി. നീണ്ട നീണ്ട പോസ്റ്റുകള്‍ മലയാളത്തില്‍ കീച്ചിവിടുന്നവരെ പ്രണമിക്കാതെ വയ്യേ !

Happy Onam !!!

2006-09-05T13:22:00.000-07:00

So, the Onam is here. Sorry all of you out there, I could not post a line all these days. The Onam rush was already in the air. A newspaper office becomes a mad house (as if its not already...) during such times. Too much advertisement volume, unexpected changes in page planning, and, too many programme all happening at the same time which can not be carried anywhere due to the ad pressure ! All these, coupled with some personal hectic schedule, is enough to spend anyone spinning.

But, finally, the Onam is here. Here, and gone.

Hope all you had a beautiful Onam, wherever you are on the face of this globe. Hope you could capture that faraway magic from childhood days, when Onam spelt just magic, when we had no care, when freedom from school was the greatest freedom on earth and exam day became the doomsday.

I suspect that once we stop feeling the need to fear exams, the charm of Onam half disappears. Onam was the reward.

I still remember the rueful Onam days of a particular year when the examinations were held after Onam ! With broken heart which was only half-way into the studies, I was clutching a notebook and prancing about the kitchen and backyard !

So, here's our Onasadya, from my parents' place. Both of us reached home by Uthradam evening (night, to be exact). Rajan has taken more photos, but I can find only this one on the computer. So, here's for the time being.

I'm sorry, the banana leaf is not a perfect one. A little bit torn, not too tender, but it is a banana leaf from our own backyard !

The items on the leaf, from bottom left - injithayir, puliyinchi, vadukappuli narangakkari (lemon pickle), pappadam, varuthupperi, sarakkara upperi and pazhamnurukku (hidden beneath the pappadam, since that is the way to serve), kalan, aviyal, olan, erisseri, rice with sambar and a dollop of ghee. The payasam-s are waiting in the side wings.

More on these curries and pickles later.

Now, a belated Happy Onam to all !

Mom's cooking

2006-08-12T10:23:00.000-07:00

I was going through the archives of all other bloggies. One entry that I find really fascinating is the event, 'Ten Things I Miss Most from Mom's Cooking,' mainly because the entries contribute a lot to my quest on the regional food of Kerala.

Naturally, I too tried to compile a list, for myself. Then, I realised - there're hardly any for me !

Don't be shocked. It is true. I hardly miss much from my amma's cooking. One thing, I live just 1 - 1 1/2 hours away from home. Then, my childhood memories of food aren't that great, to be frank.

My memories of food from childhood, except for the splendour of Onam or pirannal sadya-s (birthday feasts), are rather bland. Non-happening. Nothing out of the ordinary.

My parents are pure vegetarians. No meat or fish has crossed the threashold of their house so far. In my mother's case it is quite interesting as her siblings are carnivores, as I used to describe. But they used to eat an occasional egg. Eggs appeared in our menu mainly for my sis and me, who turned out to be eggitarians. I introduced the delicacy of 'muttakkari' for the first time in our kitchen.

How I learnt to cook that 'muttakkari' is a story. During college days, I was very much politically active, travelling around a lot. We would stay at the houses of party comrades all over the place. Once, at a Muslim household in Kodungalloor, we were served vallayappam and the loveliest muttakkari that I ever tasted.

Afterwards, it was a Herculean task to re-create that taste. I had no recipe, but just remembered the taste. So I 'de-constructed' the taste and experimented and experimented, until ....... almost the same taste was created ! My mother and sister still follows the same method. I don't call it recipe, but just a method !

What I did was - I sliced up onions (sabola), as nicely as I could, longish way. Sliced ginger and garlic, also green chilies (now I don't, since developing allergy to hot taste). Then sauteed and sauteed everything, starting with garlic, ginger, till the onions turned transparent, got reduced in quantity and a heavenly sweet smell appeared. Then came chopped tomatoes, which were again sauted till the raw smell disappeared. Next was the turn of masala-s, corriander powder, egg masala / chicken masala (packaged), turmeric and chilly powders. Again, sauting the whole mixture till the raw smell of the powders disappeared.

Then, I poured water over the whole mixture, making a sizzling commotion. Into the water went salt to taste and it was left to boil, with occasional stirring, till the oil began to float on the surface. At that moment, goes in the boiled, shelled and cut-into-two eggs, slowly placed over the gravy and left to simmer for a few minutes, to let it soak in the masala.

The final touch, if needed. Saute chopped small onions in oil till very crisp and pour over the curry.

It's a long time since I made this curry ! For one thing, we don't make elaborate break-fasts. The lunch is mostly eaten out. And the dinner starts to get cooked around 9 - 10 p.m.

May be, one of these days !!!

More about my home food later.

Talking of Onam

2006-08-08T13:51:00.000-07:00

Onam is almost round the corner ! Karkidakam is not over yet, but it doesn't rain much. A bit too hot for the past couple of days, even as the whole of northern India is flooded !

Can't help getting nostalgic as Onam draws nearer. I am feeling nostalgic even for the articles I had written.... written ten years ago !!! Ten years ! Can't believe it's been such a long time.

This article was written for the Onam Supplement of The Hindu in 1996, the year I started freelancing for The Hindu. I am posting it here. It's a bit too longish. But I hope you might find it good reading. For writing this article, I had some real research work, using the library of Kerala History Association in Ernakulam.

Unfortunately, I can't provide you with the link as The Hindu archives from 1996 are not available online.

Article for Onam Supplement (Aug 23, 1996)
The mystique of Onam

'Once upon a time there was a king called Mahabali who ruled the country in such a good manner that all people prospered and all were equals in his kingdom,' so begins the popular legend on Onam.

Who was this Mahabali ? Who was the Vamana who ousted him from the throne ? And why is Vamana worshipped during the festival celebrating the return of a king treacherously ousted by him ? Numerous are the contradictions and ironies underlying the legend of Mahabali, Vamana and the myth of Onam.

If stones could talk, the flagstones of the Vishnu temple at Thrikkakkara, the abode of Onam could have answered these questions, even narrate the whole story of Onam down the centuries. Thrikkakkara temple, one of the oldest temples in Kerala and celebrated in the writings of ancient travellers and Tamil Sangam literature is the centre stage of legends surrounding Onam. More than 13 centuries old, it is the only temple in the country dedicated to Vamana, the fifth incarnation of Vishnu who sent Mahabali to Pathala.

History and myth lay inseparably intertwined at the Thrikkakkara Temple which has about 18 important stone inscriptions dating back to 10-13 A.D. The inscriptions which were published in the Travancore Archeological Series in 1916 by Mr. T.A. Gopinatha Rao (1916) and Mr. K.V. Subramania Iyer (1923) are in 'Vattezhuthu,' the prototype of Malayalam.

Considered one of 13 'divyadesams' of Malanadu, Thrikkakkara or Thirukalkarai, as it was known in the days of the Kulasekharas, was the capital of Kalkarainadu, a fiefdom under the Kulasekharas, it is believed. But there is no documentary evidence to prove it. Nammalvar, Vaishnava saint and the author of 'Thiruvaimizhi,' who lived around 9th Century, had sung praises of the temple and the beautiful countrysides surrounding it. It was a important pilgrimage centre for the Sri Vaishnavas, who were slowly gaining ground over Buddhists and Jains. The temple also finds mention in Sukasandesam, an ancient literary work in Malayalam.

Though consecrated to Vishnu in the incarnation of Vamana, Thrikkakkara temple has a shrine of Siva also nearby. It is interesting to note in this context that though Thrikkakkara Appan or Vamana is worshipped during Onam celebrations, Mathevar or Mahadevar is also worshipped with equal fervour and the reason remains unexplained.

The presence of a multitude of 'Upadevathas' (subordinate deities) is another special feature of Thrikkakkara temple which helps in its identification from ancient literary works and inscriptions. The main temple of Vamana also has Bhagavathi, Sastha and Gopalakrishnan and the nearby Siva temple, Thekkumkara Thevar temple has shrines of Parvathi, Durga, Bhagavathi, Subramanian and Ganapathy.

From the Thrikkakkara edicts emerges a picture of the Kulasekhara empire which existed till about 1102 A.D., as well as the socio-political and religious milieu of the times. It is believed that Kalakarainadu constituted the present Thrikkakkara, Edappally and surrounding areas. The names of a few chieftains appointed as naduvazhis of Kalkarainadu by the Kulasekhara kings who ruled from their capital Mahodayapuram are mentioned in the inscriptions most of which were written during the reign of the Kulasekhara kings Indukothai Varma (944 - 962) and Bhaskara Ravi Varman I (963 - 1019). One record also mentions the existence of Arunoottuvar or the 'Group of 600' who helped and controlled the naduvazhis.

During the reign of Kulasekharas who were great patrons (and followers) of Vaishnavism, Hindu temples flourished in Kerala and Thrikkakkara was a major beneficiary of this royal patronage as can be seen from the inscriptions which mention generous to the temple.

By the turn of this century, Thrikkakkara Temple was in utter ruins with only the Adhishtana remaining. All the standing structures were dilapidated and the image of the deity was also broken down. After repeated pleas from the Vaishnavaites and the report of the Archeology Department the Maharaja of Travancore reconstructed the temple in its present form. Remnants of the old temple wall described by Nammalvar as 'kodimathil' can still be traced beneath the new structure and the pathway surrounding the temple.

The Thrikkakkara Temple that dates back to ancient times has no mention whatsoever about the Namboodiris, the community that held sway over Kerala after the advent of Hinduism. Neither is Edappally Swaroopam, the erstwhile principality with a Namboodiri ruler that had adjoined Kochi and had played a major historical role in Kerala, mentioned in the records. The temple and inscriptions might be older than the emergence of Namboodiris as a force and the formation of Edappally Swaroopam. But later the ruler of Edappally became the official priest there and till recently held the right to nominate the priest.

The inscriptions describe the celebration of Onam as an occasion when all local chieftains assembled at Thrikkakkara to pay their respect to the Kulasekhara Chakravarthi (Emperor). The festivities started from the star of Thiruvonam in the Malayalam month of Karkatakam and lasted for 28 days till Thiruvonam in the month of Chingam. The last 10 days saw the peak of celebrations.

Later the festival was confined to these 10 days beginning from the Atham star in Chingam. The records describe the celebrations in detail and the roles assigned to each king. It is not clear whether the festival had any religious significance at that time.

The festival of Onam that first began to be celebrated at Thrikkakkara has spread from there, spanning caste and creed, penetrating the farthest corner of the world where Malayalees have reached, even as the cold inscriptions from a bygone era remain silent spectators for all the pomp and splendour of the celebrations raging around every year.

Tales from the past

2006-07-19T23:59:00.000-07:00

I hope all of you must be aware of the gagging of blogs that takes place in India. Though this step was resorted to by the authorities with a good intention (of preventing dangerous rumours and malicious campaigns from spreading over the Internet in these sensitive times), the result was a bit too much, with all the blogs including those which stand for democracy, secularism and peace getting blocked from view in India.

Let's hope the situation will be normal soon. And, meanwhile, I am posting as the Blogger dashboard is available here. But to view the blog, I've to use some proxy servers and not even through the view the blog provision on the dashboard can I access my blog.

This time, I thought that I'd continue on the theme of Onam, with the help of a book excerpt, translated from Malayalam.

'Avasanathe Smartha Vicharam,' (The Last Caste (Morality) Inquisition), the autobiography of late A.M.N.Chakyar who was the former Registrar of Kerala University, gives an interesting documentation of the social and religious life of Kerala, especially that of the Namboothiris at the turn of 20th century. Chakyar, originally a member of Namboothiri community, had to sport the sirname of 'Chakyar,' as a fall-out of the practice of 'Smartha Vicharam,' under which his father was ostracised on the charge of having had illicit relationship with a married Namboothiri woman. The father committed suicide before the community could enact their ritual banning on him. So, the children were in turn formally expelled from the community and the new sirname was a result of that. That he managed to obtain higher education (read English education, in those days), and rose to a high official position, retiring as the Registrar of the University of Kerala, was the latter part of the story.

(More of the obnoxious practice of Smartha Vicharam, that had been observed by the Namboothiri community till the first decades of 20th century to ensure the purity of their women, later).

In those days, social status and wealth of individuals and families depended upon the area of land in possession. Land was wealth. Chakyar says, ‘Our Illam (a Namboothiri household), sat in the midst of a vast purayidam (purayidam, in Kerala, is the plot in which the house is located. The word derives from 'pura,’ meaning house and 'idam,’ meaning space. This may vary in size depending on the family’s financial status) of about five acres.

'We used to get an annual ‘paattam,’ of about 1500 para (a measurement) of paddy, from about 25 acres of karinilam-s located quite nearby. Besides that, the family owned other landed property also, which were leased out on paattam worth Rs. 1500 in cash per year.'

‘We also owned another illam named ‘Chelakkal,' at Udayamperoor village in Vaikkom Taluk of Kottayam district in the erstwhile Travancore. This illam was located in a large plot of about 30 acres. The paddy fields there fetched us an annual income of 300 para-s of paddy, while the ‘karabhoomi' (land other than paddy fields) generated an income of 1500 rupees in cash. Each of the illam-s had a nellara (granary) located in the middle of the nalukettu for storing the paddy we got as paattam. '

[ From the English text translated by Chakyar himself: “The Illom was situtated in in a 5-acre free-hold garden land in Thekkumbhag\om Village, Kanayannur Taluk, Ernakulam District of old Cochin State. When I was born (1907) and during my childhood, the Illom was at peak of its prosperity under the benign management of my grand father. We had in our neighbourhood some 25 acres of Kari Nilom (paddy lands), leased to tenants, fetching 1500 paras of paddy annually, and we had also some other garden lands yielding a rent of about Rs. 1500 /- in cash.

“In Udayamperoor, Vaikom Taluk, Kottayam District, of old Travancore State we had another Illom – Chelakkal – situated ina sprawling 30 acre plot and it also had some landed properties around, fetching Rs. 1500/- in cash and 300 paras of paddy per annum.

“The wooden barn which formed the central part of each Illom building was so designed as to accommodate the quantity of paddy it collected in a year…._]

He describes the daily routine during summer visits to the Chelakkal illam – ‘Meals were frugal, with a curry made of either mangoes or jack fruits, uppilittathu (pickles in brine) and moru (buttermilk). Any deficiency of vitamines must have been solved by our splendid diet of ripe jack fruits and mangoes which abounded around the house.'

[“Food was frugal and inexpensive and consisted mainly of rice savoured by one curry of mango or jack gruit alternating, buttermilk and pickles. Ripe mangoes made up for any vitamin deficiecy.” – from Chakyar’s translation. ]

Onam was the big event of the whole year. Chakyar gives a fairly detailed descriptions of the Onam celebrations at his illam – ‘The 'kudiyaan-s (people who had taken lands on lease from the mana) and other farmers in the village would bring ‘onakkazhcha’ to the local landlords. These included vegetables grown by them, like bananas, pumpkins, yams, cucumbers etc. People who made oil using chakku (oil presses) would bring coconut oil, those who would press sugar cane would bring jaggery, the konkani or pandaram community would bring pappadams, the weavers would bring thorthu with kara (a short cloth with border used as a bathing towel), the velan-s would bring olakkuda, muram, kutta etc. (woven out of bamboo). In return, the karanavar (eldest male member) of the household would distribute ‘onappudava' to all of them.’

‘Muslim vagabonds from Malabar would visit the ‘janmi' households during Onam season singing folk songs and playing thappu. They were given bananas (both raw and ripe), upperi (banana chips) etc. '

The Onasadya as Chakyar describes will give a shock to all those present-day feature writers. You will not find the elaborate fare that bandied about in tourism brochures. It appears quite simple, even frugal, given the present-day standards.

‘Sadya (the feast) was prepared at our illam both for the noon and evening meals on all the four days of Onam. But the sadya was not as elaborate as it is now. The traditional dishes were four varieties of curries, four types of 'uppilittathu,' (pickles) and prathaman. The four curries were kaalan, olan, erisseri and pulisseri. The four types of uppilittathu were lemon, mango, puliyinchi and inchithayiru. These four pickles and payasam continue without any change even today. Sambar, rasam, aviyal etc. were unheard of in those days. Pazham nurukku and varuthupperi were the integral parts of the Onam season.'

Note the absence of avial, now marketed as a classical Kerala dish !

He also gives a mouth-watering list of mangoes which were abundant in the purayidam-s of those days.

“The tasty Panchasara maanga (Sugar Mangoe) , almost as big as a coconut without husk, the tiny ‘Sarkkara Manga,’ (as sweet as jaggery), the fleshy Varikka manga, thukalan, vellari, chara, the sour thonnappuliyan…..

“Thukalan was best for uppumaanga (mango pickled in brine), chaara for the hot uppilittathu (pickle) and ‘chethumaanga,’ (another hot pickle in which the mango is used in slices) and kadukkacchi was the chosen one for making kadumanga, (another popular mango pickle of Kerala). The tiny Sarkkara Manga was best fot the varutha acchar (fried pickle) and the varikka for ‘adamanga.’”

Now, how about this ? Any of the Malayali blogger friends know of the names of local varities of mangoes ? Share it with all.

Green banana leaf

2006-07-05T08:52:00.000-07:00

Last year I had started a blog under a different sign-in name. In fact, I had opened adukkala before that, but did not feel like posting in it. So, this one, Green Banana Leaf was supposed to carry all that I'm now telling through adukkala. And, I had not made adukkala public at that time.

Now, I'm a bit confused. For one thing, I love that title - Green Banana Leaf. And, I like the couple of posts I made in it. I think Antony of Bachelor Cooking visited it once. But, not many people had found it. Here's the link - Green Banana Leaf - do check it out. I thought of copying the posts onto adukkala. But then though I'd guide you over there.

Well, may be I could maintain both. In some different ways. May be.

Banana chips from far-away

2006-06-12T12:42:00.000-07:00

RP's banana chips hurled me backwards, towards a distant morning.

A sunny, late August (or was it early September ?) morning when the sky is full of puffy, white clouds and the leaves glisten with the humid green after soaking up the monsoon rains. The sky has just broken clear. The earth is still moist. And the sunlight filters in, yellow and unearthly.

The tile-roofed shed in the backyard of my home bustles with activity. The 'shed' is the multi-purpose space just outside the house, where the coconut husks and fronds for fuel are stored. Two aduppu-s, the permanent stoves made of earth, are also located there for professional cooking on special occasions.

Here takes place the annual ritual of my childhood that ushered in Onam - the making of upperi-s and pickles.

In those days, my parents engaged a professional cook for these tasks, mainly because of the taste. The special dishes for Onam would get the proper taste in the hands of a professional cook, they believed. And it was true also. Not that we were exceptionally rich. Rather, that was the custom in my father's household. For special occasions, professional cooks were hired. Women of the family were not expected to slog off too much over heavy cooking sessions. Rather, they were expected to remain hostesses, graceful and delicate, handling only the mildest routine chores.

So, Appukuttan Elayathu made his appearance on the appointed day. Elayathu was his caste name, and he was a good professional cook, held in high esteem locally. Out of respect for my father, he would deign to cook at our home.

The preparations would start much earlier. Selecting the right bunch of bananas was important. The markets would get flooded with bunches of nenthrakkaya (the banana/ plantain species unique to Kerala). The raw bananas should be matured just enough. A few days more or less would tell upon the taste of the chips. The size of the fruits also mattered. But, the biggest issue was the price.

During Onam season, the price of bananas rocketed skywards. Just like all other vegetables. Mostly, the Government would step in, offering bananas and vegetables at subsidised rates at special markets. These 'Onachantha'-s would be crowded like anything, with people making beelines to make the most out of the subsidised rates.

I don't quite remember the 'good-ole-days,' when the bunches from own land used to arrive for the Onam. And, I didn't belong to a family which celebrated Onam drawing upon the labour of its tenants, through the obnoxious custom of 'Onakkazhcha.' As far as I could remember, they had cultivated their land by themselves. (But, more about that later).

So, the bunches of perfect bananas were ready in the tiny store room. Oil, jaggery, chukku, jeera and all other necessary paraphernalia were also ready. The uruli was brought down and scrubbed to a sheen.

Appukuttan Elayathu, like all the traditional cooks, (dehannakkar), had a rhythm of his own. His hands moved in a mechanical rhythm, as he went about the chores without haste, as if he had all the time in the world left. Lighting the stove, putting the uruli on the fire, pouring oil, adjusting the fire till the oil began to boil and in between, skinning the bananas. Only when the oil was bubbling would be take out his banana-cutter. It was almost a mandoline, but which had provision only for slicing bananas.

Then came the wonderful sight I'd waited for. The discs of bananas flying off the metal blade straight into the bubbling oil, hissing like a 'thalachakram,' and turning yellow right in front of your eyes. A few minutes later, he would take the pot of salt water, waiting for the right moment to sprinkle over the frying chips.

The yellow, crisp discs were collected from the oil, drained and transferred to a 'muram.' I don't know how many of you are familiar with a 'muram,' woven out of bamboo strips, a common household utensil in the olden days. Even these days, muram-s make their appearance at the market, but more for a decorative purpose than any utilitarian one !

Making 'sarkkara upperi,' was a bit more complicated and not as colourful as the yellow ones. The bananas would be cut into thick chunks, fried and kept away. Then the jaggery would melt in the big uruli, till the syrup reached the correct consistency. The fried banana chunks would be poured into the syrup, followed by a finely powdered mixture of jeera and chukku (cumin and dried ginger), which provides the punch of 'sarkkara upperi.' Within a few seconds, the whole syrupy mixture would turn dry, with the jaggery firmly adhering to the chips in an even coating.

The biggest treat was the left-over powder of jaggery and jeera-chukku powder. It would be scrapped from the bottom of the uruli and kept in glass jars. To be licked off as a savoury snack, or even added to coffee.

Appukuttan Elayathu is no more. He had stopped cooking a few years back, as he grew older. My parents started to purchase packets of chips for Onam from the local caterers, as is the common practice these days. Even 'payasam,' is ordered for Onam. You can purchase either 'palada,' or 'pazhaprathaman,' or 'parippu prathaman,' which has that perfect, professional taste.

Well, times they're a'changing.... And, whatever be the changes, the spirit of Onam still lives on.

2006-06-11T14:29:00.000-07:00

So friends, here is the article I was promising you. I had written this for an Onam Supplement of The Hindu, a couple of years ago. In 2004, I think. As is the case with every feature article, especially written for supplements, this one was also cooked up in a fast-food manner. Not that much well-researched, I mean. Just a bunching together of the points that I knew all along. So, here it is...

Eating differently during Onam

After all, Onam is a festival for feasting. No wonder, it was the harvestf estival, which saw the end of the dark, monsoon days of Karkidakam. The month was perilous even for the rich. For ordinary people it meant rainy days without work, without food.

So naturally, Onam became a celebration of food, and of all good things inlife. A good crop and the mild weather lifted up the spirits. Interestingly, almost all the Onam proverbs and sayings centre around eating. In Malayalam, celebrating Onam is ‘Onam Unnuka,’ which meanseating. Then there is the classic sample ‘Kaanam Vittum Onam Unnanam,’ whichadvises that Onam should be celebrated at any cost, even by selling offland. Many sayings also allude to the days of hunger which might follow thefeasting.

The general scarcity of food that existed in olden days must have caused this celebration of feasting. Notwithstanding our blabber about ‘those goodol’ days,’ those were days really short of food. Even the rich could just manage decent meals. Nature was harsher, and social rules even harsher.

The times have changed, along with Malayali’s markets and habits. Food availability has increased manifold, in variety as well as quantity. Season is no limit for the market now. Mangoes and bananas flood the shops round the year. And no wonder, Ona Sadya has become a homogenous affair. At least the popular version of the Ona Sadya projected by the mass media as the lavish spread on the sparkling green banana leaf, beamed at us from hoardings and miniscreens alike. Now we cannot imagine Ona Sadya withoutsambar, aviyal, kalan, ishttu, koottukari, upperi, puliyinchi, narangakkari and palada prathaman.

Yet, how many of us know that many of these dishes were late entrants in the Malayali menu ? Or that Sadya itself differs drastically from the North to the South ?

To begin with, sambar and aviyal, now indispensable in any Malayali sadya, were absent even by the turn of 20th century. They do not appear in any olden writings on food. ‘Ashanam,’ the portion of the four-part 'Purusharthakkoothu,' dealing with food and eating, which describes a gargantuan feast devoured by gluttons, do not list sambar and aviyal in the menu though rasam is mentioned as ‘mulaku vellam,’ (chilly water). These dishes arrived later, from the neighbouring Tamil Nadu.

The major difference between the Onam feast of northern and southern Keralai s regarding non-vegetarian fare. Eating meat or fish on Onam day is astrict no-no in the central and southern Kerala, but the northerners, especially in Kannur and Kasaragode districts, splurge on meat. Mutton is almost a must. Saraswathi Sukumaran, a native of Kannur district, remembers that the habit was not much in vogue a few decades back. But,according to Prasad hailing from Thalassery, mutton had been the treat of Onam for years. Earlier, people would slaughter lambs locally, booking orders in advance, remembers he. Now shops and cold storages have taken over. At the same time, even habitual non-vegetarians in Thrissur and Palakkad districts abstain from flesh during Onam.

The ubiquitous pazham nurukku, the chunks of boiled plantains (nenthrappazham),eaten with crushed pappadam-s is also a feature confined to central Kerala,especially the old Cochin and Valluvanadu regions. People in other parts are apparently unfamiliar with this delicacy during Onam. But for central Keralites, there is no Onam without the syrupy sweetness of the pazham nurukku.

Making it is a ritual itself, starting with procuring the right bunch of raw bananas which are ripened at home. At least for one week during Onam,breakfast becomes nothing but pazham nurukku, pappadams and upperi. Visitors are invariably served it at every home and it is the No. 1 item for the Sadya.

These days we think payasam is indispensable for Onasadya. But many from the Valluvanadu region will vow otherwise. Even now, many homes there do not make payasam. Instead, a mixture of coconut scrappings and jaggery is served as dessert in some places.

Almost all over Kerala, frying banana chips means the beginning of Onam preparations. But in some regions, like Punaloor in Kollam district, the chips are not of banana alone. A whole range of vegetables like, chena (elephant-foot yam), chembu (colocasia), payar and bitter gourd are fried and stored days in advance. Other crispies like ‘kaliyadakka,’ (nothing to do with betelnuts, but a round crispy made of rice flour) as well as murukku were made during Onam, remembers Reghunathan, a native of Punaloor. He also remembers that a thoran of 'chenathandu and cherupayar,’ (stem of yam and green gram) was invariably served the day before Onam. The reason was simple. Yams were dug up for the Ona Sadya, and the leftover stem which was edible and nutritious could not be wasted !
In most of Thrissur district, making ‘ada’ as part of the offerings toThrikkakarayappan is an important custom. The special ‘poovada,’ with thumpa flowers sprinkled with the filling was used for puja. Onam breakfast consisted of adas, pazham nurukku, pappadam and upperi. But, even in some other parts of Thrissur district like Cheruthuruthi, no ‘ada’ was made for Onam, but during Vishu.

One description of Onasadya appears in the autobiography of late A.M. N.Chakyar (‘The Last Smartha Vicharam,’ describes the social persecutions he had to endure in childhood as a result of Smartha Vicharam, the evil custom practised by Namboothiris in the past). It gives an idea of Onasadya in a prosperous Namboothiri household during the turn of 20th century - ‘At our illam, sadya (the feast) was prepared for both the noon meal and evening during varieties of curries, four types of ‘uppilittathu,’ (pickles) and prathaman. The four curries were kaalan, olan, erisseri and pulisseri. The four types of uppilittathu were lemon, mango, puliyinchi and inchithayiru.These four pickles and payasam continue without any change even today.Sambar, rasam, aviyal etc. were unheard of in those days. ‘Pazham nurukku and varuthupperi were the integral parts of the Onam season.’

Thus, customs change, habits change. But the sadya still survives. And these days it has become trendy. You could go to any posh restaurant and have sadya comfortably. Or else, it will arrive at your door-step, packaged neatly, conveniently.
(Courtesy: The Hindu)

Ona Sadya

2006-05-28T10:25:00.000-07:00

It seems I will have to put aside my laziness regarding this blog. People are visiting it ! Even if I haven't posted a word in months !

So, thanks to all who followed the links in the comments I left in their posts and took the trouble of dropping in. Thanks, Reshma, for the kind advice about the 'word verification.'

Immigrant in Canada had been asking about Ona Sadya. So, I thought, may be I could write something about that - a favourite topic of mine. A couple of years back, I had written a feature about Ona Sadya for my newspaper. Sorry, I don't have the story here, will have to retrieve it from archives and post.

Now, about Ona Sadya, which means the festival meal, or feast prepared on the day of Onam. I really appreciate the interest shown by Immigrant in Canada to learn about the Ona Sadya. So, I'm sure she'll be quite surprised to learn that there is no such thing as a 'typical' Ona Sadya !

Well, it's true. From north to south, the items, ingredients and basic character of Ona Sadya differs drastically. The Sadya differs from region to region, from caste to caste. And, it has transformed radically down the years.

The typical 'Sadya' or feast of Kerala took its origins from the kovilakam-s (palaces of the Kerala rulers), and at the illam-s (households of Namboothiris, the Brahmin community of Kerala). The cooks at most of the palaces, had belonged to the Tamil Brahmin community, who were an integral part of Kerala's society from a long a time back. These royal cooks developed the strict vegetarian cuisine followed in the kovilakam-s, introducing many flavours from their own country across the Western Ghats. It is said that avial, celebrated as one of the hallmarks of Kerala cuisine, was invented by these cooks. Similarly, sambar and rasam, the quintessential Tamil dishes, were introduced into Kerala by them.

Even a cursory glance at the history of food in Kerala will tell that sambar became a common household curry quite recently. Many referances from the early decades of 20th century about the sadya do not include sambar, or rasam. The basic dishes for the sadya originally came in multiples of four. 'Chathur vibhavangal,' four dishes, which were kalan, olan, erisseri and, madhurakkari, or the sweet dish. It must have meant, the payasam.

Kalan, olan and erisseri remain the fundamental basics of any traditional sadya in Kerala. Especially in central Kerala, these curries are a must for any 'pirannal sadya,' the birthday feast. Then, the 'uppilittathu.' Which literally means, 'those pickled in salt.' ! They were mango, lime, then, puliyinchi and inchithayiru. Puliyinchi is the special dish made in central Kerala for Onam. Large quantities of tamarind pulp and jaggery are boiled in 'kalchatti-'s (stone vessels) over low flames for hours. Chopped green chillies and ginger are added to the boiling mixture. Finally, once its done, seasoned with mustard, fenugreek, curry leaves and more chopped green chillies and ginger.

This can be stored for long. Inchithayiru (ginger in curd), is literally that. Chopped and slightly crushed ginger and green chillies added to beaten curds. And, salt, of course. This was a remedy to prevent any tummy upset from over eating ! This is also a must for the birthdays.

The fried items are the next. Besides pappadam, Ona Sadya should have banana chips. Both plain chips and sarkkara upperi. For VIshu Sadya, banana chips are replaced by jackfruit chips. Then, a variety of vegetables are fried raw. These include elephant yam, brinjals, bittergourd and bananas fried without removing their skin. At least four varities of these chips.

Nobody in Thrissur district can think of an Ona Sadya without the 'Pazham nurukku,' or boiled / steamed bananas. During the season, the markets are flooded with huge bunches of 'nenthrakkaya,' specially cultivated for the season. The prices rocket like anything. These days, the Government often steps in with the Civil Supplies and other agencies offering bananas for subsidised rates.

The 'pazham nurukku,' should be served on the upper left hand corner of the leaf, under the pappadams. It is eaten in the end, mashed with crumbled pappadams.

For a long time, that sharp blend of sweet-salt used to be the taste of Onam for me.

And last but not least, the payasam.

But, more about it later.

What Is Kerala Food ?

2005-01-07T07:56:00.000-08:00

A lot of questions crop up while talking about the foods of Kerala. What all foods were the people living this country were eating down the centuries ? Surely, it would never have been what we now see. Because, food, like all aspects of human culture, changes over time. These changes are affected by many factors, including social, economical and even political. But mainly social and economical.

Unlike many other parts of India, Kerala has a social life and culture that have undergone a tremendous transition during the last forty or fifty years. This has radically altered the food pattern here. From the 1950s when rules of caste and creed had determined even the minutest aspects of everyday life, Kerala has changed completely, from top to bottom. A good percent of today’s young generation even has no idea that such days did really exist in their country.

A familiar pitfall for anyone writing about the foods of Kerala is the tendency to generalise. It is easy, and tempting to generalise about the Kerala food. And for the tourism industry, the biggest promoters Kerala cuisine these days, it is just exotic to generalise. What easier way to advertise than rave about the flavour of spices and coconut oil ? See this comment – ‘Almost every dish prepared in Kerala has coconut and spices added to it – spices such as cinnamon, cardamom, ginger, cloves, garlic, cumin, coriander, turmeric etc.’ There is nothing far from truth. Cinnamon is a very rare item, except in certain meat preparations. And cardamom is hardly used at all, except for flavouring some ‘payasam,’-s, that too the ubiquitous ‘semiya payasam,’ that fusion product using vermicelli !

Of course, turmeric powder is almost omnipresent. And cumin seeds are grinded with coconut to make a basic paste. Mustard seeds, likewise, are used for seasoning.

And there are as many dishes without coconut as there are dishes that use it !

About coconut oil – another misconception is that coconut oil is the one and only cooking medium in Kerala. Far from true. The popularity of coconut oil is a quite recent trend. Earlier, just a couple of decades away, gingelly oil, made from sesame seeds (locally called ‘nallenna’), was used for seasoning. Coconut oil was used mainly for frying - pappadams, chips, appam-s – and also for bathing.

All About Kerala Food

2005-01-06T03:07:00.000-08:00

Type 'Kerala cuisine' in any search engine. You will get an endless list of recipees, recipees and more recipees. Sambar, avial, kalan, olan, kappa, fish moilee, appam, puttu so on and so forth. Click on google images for Kerala food. You will get thousands of images, of the green banana leaf displaying the classical dishes of a 'Sadya.'

But, the real food of Kerala is much, much different from what you see in all these sites. It is just a generalised version. And there is more than the 'sadya,' the feast. And hardly do we find any real information on the food habits, cooking methods or the rapidly changing pattern of eating preferences of Kerala. In short, nothing about the history of food in this tiny place which has an astonishing range of variety in the number of food stuff it has imported and adopted from countries all over the world.

Or, how many people in Portugal or Brazil know that the Malayalis still call their big onion 'sabola,' which spells just a little different but sounds the same as their 'cebola' ? It is another matter that many urban, 'refined' Malayalis now refer to this vegetable as 'savala,' believing this to be the 'correct' pronunciation !

So, we might look forward to little notes, anecdotes, interesting links and much, much foodlore from Kerala here. I do not plan to post too much recipees. Since the net already seems to be overflowing with 'Kerala recipees.' Instead, I would like to compare them. And contrast.