BEYOND DOSAS
Idli, vada and sambar. Kunal Vijayakar digs
in
Whether you like my
saying this or not, we’re all racist. If not rabidly racist, at the least, we
are predictably prejudiced.
Let me explain. I am
talking about our attitude towards and knowledge of south Indian food. Let’s
concede: we all have a parochial outlook towards most people, cultures, and
things we are unfamiliar with. This is one more of those.
First, we should not be
using the term ‘South Indian food’, because there is no place called South India.
There are four states. They have different names, cultures, languages, people
and distinctive cuisines. For most of us living north of the imaginary line
below Maharashtra and Odisha, everyone below is loosely termed
‘south-Indian-idli-dosa’ eaters. It’s a statement born out of ignorance. And in
the words of Thomas Gray, “Where ignorance is bliss, ’tis folly to be wise”. I
am about to embark on this folly, to bust a few myths and, if you allow me, to
spread a little wisdom. I can’t deal with the food from all our four south
states in a single column, so let me pick Tamil Nadu — the southernmost state,
which has a cuisine that is astounding in flavour and variety. While the
classic food of Tamil Nadu is dominated by rice and lentils, contrary to common
knowledge, Tamil cuisine is all meat in the interior regions, and all fish
along the coast. Let’s start with Chettinadu food from Karaikudi region. The
century-old palaces that line the old quarters of Karaikudi have been turned
into homestays by its royal residents. Here, the early evening air fills with
the aromas of the cuisine. Their spicy, robust food (with generous portions of
aniseed, fennel, cumin, pepper, cinnamon, and cloves) predominantly consists of
chicken, lamb, and prawn. For instance, you’ll find dishes such as the aatu
kari kozhambu, a mutton curry with whole spices, potatoes, and shallots, and
eral thokku — prawns fried in ginger, garlic, tomatoes, with an infusion of
curry leaves. There’s also the game-y, dry, fried, salted country chicken
called naatu kozhi varuval. This recipe uses no masala other than dry red
chillies, turmeric, fennel, curry leaves and fresh coriander.
Now let’s move up the
hilly region of Coimbatore, towards the denser parts of the Nilgiris, where
the air is cooler and the cuisine is milder. This is the Kongu region, known
for the Konganadu cuisine. Since
the region lies miles away from the coast, people here prefer meat over fish;
the cuisine also has a distinct Muslim influence. The food is less aggressive,
and is bursting with hints of sesame seed, peanuts, roasted turmeric, and the
inevitable coconut. The one dish that is signature to the area is the Kongueratchi biryani. It is
different from the Mughlai biryanis we are used to. The flavours of curry
leaves and poppy seeds, apart from coconut oil and coconut milk, make this dish
unusual. This biryani is made from local Seeraga samba rice, a stickier,
smaller grain.
With the Kongunadu and
Chettinadu cuisines, I’ve hardly scratched the surface of the variety that Tamil
Nadu offers. The region is vast. But I must mention the staple. The vazhai
illai sappadu (banana leaf thali) is a typical, simple meal. Each dish has a
pre-determined spot on the leaf. I am going to try and list out the order and
menu, but please forgive me if I miss a couple of things or get the sequence
wrong.
In the middle, or
slightly to the right, is steaming hot rice. Over this, the getti paruppu
(thick, plain dal) is served, topped with melted ghee. On top of the leaf,
you’ll find thayir pachadi (curd with vegetables), varuval (deep-fried
vegetables), kootu (mild coconut-based gravy), rasam and poriyal (dry
vegetables cooked with coconut), vadai, pickle and salt. On the side are banana
and a dessert. This meal is wholesome, perfectly balanced, and has a sense of
goodness and purity. I find it incredible how the average Tamilian is able to
digest so much rice and sambar or rasam in one single meal.
For those in Mumbai, there aren’t too many places
to go to if you crave this cuisine. Here are some places to try:
Dakshin at the Maratha does some decent non-vegetarian Tamil,
Kerala, Kannadiga, and Andhra food.
South of Vindhyas at the Orchid, near Santacruz Airport is
unsung, but serves a wide range of food from the south.
Modern Hindu Hotel, on the fourth floor of Apeejay Chambers,
Wallace Street (Fort) has been serving saapadu for nearly 90 years now.
Mani’s Lunch Home, near Matunga station, serves food from the
Palakkad region, or food that belongs to the Keralite Tamil Brahmin Iyers.
HT1JUL16
No comments:
Post a Comment