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Tamil cuisine

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As you may know, I straddle the worlds of being Gujarati and having been raised in Chennai. I believe that I’m more of a Tamilian than a Gujarati in many ways, or at least I feel that way at times (especially while I’m preparing or sharing certain recipes, like this one). Adai is a very traditional dish from Tamil Nadu, similar to the dosa. I didn’t grow up with it, but once I discovered it, it became a regular on my dining table. I like it a lot as it ticks all the boxes for me in terms of nutrition and taste. It is rich in protein but makes you feel like you’re eating carbs, which it in fact has very little of. It is very satisfying, in the ways that simple dishes can be.

I learnt this recipe from a friend, a few decades ago, and it has been a staple in my home for decades, so I was a little surprised myself that I hadn’t shared it yet. The story of how I got this recipe is that when my son was in kindergarten, there were a bunch of anxious moms waiting outside the school on Day 1 and Day 2 to make sure the kids settled in well. We got around to talking, and as many young mothers do, wound up exchanging recipes. That was how I learnt this adai recipe, and I still think of the friend I made way back when my son started school every single time I use it. I’ve been to her home many times over the years and eaten it there too.

Traditionally, adai is had with fresh butter and jaggery. That is still my favourite combination, even though I also prepare it with a variety of chutneys, a number of which you can explore on the blog. I suspect the traditional accompaniment is my preferred one as it’s sweet, so the Gujju in me kicks in!

I make different versions of adai, in the sense that I may pour it into a waffle maker for novelty, make a big one for dinner or a small one for a starter. Sometimes I even prepare it with a filling – for this, I’ve found that paneer works well. I also make the batter thick and make it like a pancake with raw, finely chopped vegetables, which gives it a different taste and improves the healthiness quotient. Adai in and of itself is quite nutritious, as long as you go easy on the oil. In the version below, I share the recipe for smaller adais topped with the goodness of vegetables.

Adai

(Yield: 10-15 pieces)

1 cup boiled rice

¼ cup tuvar dal

¼ cup yellow moong dal

¼ cup channa dal

¼ cup urad dal

1 onion

1 teaspoon cumin

1 teaspoon fennel

2-3 cloves garlic

2-3 dried red chilli

1 teaspoon cumin

1 teaspoon fennel seeds

Salt to taste

½ teaspoon turmeric

 

Tempering:

1 tablespoon oil

½ teaspoon cumin

½ teaspoon mustard seeds

1 onion (finely chopped)

½ teaspoon asafoetida

Coriander leaves

 

Sesame oil for cooking

Finely chopped vegetables (onions, carrots and coriander leaves) for topping

 

 

Soak the dals and rice for 6-8 hours in enough water to cover them.

Grind the soaked dals and rice in a blender along with garlic, cumin, fennel seeds and red chilli until coarse. Set aside.

In a kadai, add the oil. Then, add mustard seeds, cumin, asafoetida, curry leaves and finely chopped onion. Sauté on a high flame for 2 minutes and add to the coarse batter. Add the turmeric and coriander leaves to the batter. Mix gently. Your batter is now ready for making the adai.

To cook the adai, the method is as follows. On a heated flat pan, make small discs of the batter, spreading them a little. Add the sesame oil as required to cook. About 1-2 teaspoons will do.

Once the adai is golden brown on one side, flip gently and allow to cook on the other. Then, turn back to the previous side, and add the finely chopped vegetables as an optional topping. Serve with a chutney of your choice. If you decide to serve it with butter or jaggery, you can skip adding the vegetables.

I hope you’ll enjoy this adai, especially if you were already familiar with dosas and wanted to explore a variation on the same!

I believe that South Indian breakfasts are probably the healthiest ones prepared pan-India. I may be biased, of course, as I live here. But my belief comes from how they tend to contain some amount of protein and probiotics, and are centred on something as basic and easily digestible as rice. Rice is used in the batter for idlys and dosais, which are breakfast staples. If you travel across Tamil Nadu, especially by road, you’ll see just how prevalent these items are across all communities and economic backgrounds. Naturally, I grew up eating them too. Nowadays, I like to boost the protein quotient, as I get very hungry immediately after my morning workout and crave more of it. This is why I decided to substitute rice with ragi – finger millet – in my idlys. They are high in both protein and iron, and provide an even more nutritious start to the day.

We grow ragi on our farm, and making these idlys is a great way to put it to use. During harvests, I have quite an abundance of ragi in my kitchen, and versatile ways to consume it were introduced to me by my household staff, Vijaya. I was fortunate that she came into my family when my daughter was only a few months old. Now, my daughter is an adult, and whenever she visits, Vijaya is always so happy to see how she’s grown and how she looks after herself. It’s a joy to share these moments, as we raised her together. Over the years, we have also exchanged many recipes. Among them is this ragi idly.

I’m currently hooked to this dish, and have it at least twice a week. I alternate it with other protein-rich breakfasts such as overnight oats, quinoa porridge, moringa leaves omelette and so on. As far as eating preferences go, I tend to have a “flavour of the season”, and just as I was hooked for each of the prior recipes for a spell, the ragi idly is my current favourite breakfast. It is satisfying, filling and ticks all the boxes for a post-workout meal in a healthy and traditional way.

It’s also on-trend, as the United Nations has declared 2023 to be the International Year of Millets. I’ve been enthusiastic about millet usage for years, and have shared numerous recipes that are based on a variety of them before. I’ll be sure to share more in this category over this coming year. Please let me know if there are any millets or millet-based dishes you are curious about.

Coming back to this dish: all kinds of idlys are usually served either with a chutney, or a sambar. I will share the recipe for sambar, as well as for homemade sambar powder, in upcoming posts – so do stay tuned. The recipe below includes the traditional process of preparing and fermenting the batter.

As I said earlier, idlys are available anywhere in Tamil Nadu, but the difference when they are homemade is that they somehow feel lighter on the stomach. You can eat many idlys and not feel too full, yet you’ll have plenty of energy all the way into the afternoon. This is all the more true when it’s a millet idly, like this one.

Ragi Idly

(Yield: 20 pieces)

2 cups ragi (finger millet)

½ cup urad dal (split black gram)

¼ tsp methi (fenugreek)

½ cup water to grind dal

½ cup water to grind ragi

 

Soak the urad dal and the methi together. In a separate bowl, soak the ragi. Allow the grains to soak for between 4-10 hours, as required.

Then, grind the urad dal, adding the water only as needed, at approximately a ¼ cup at a time. Grind until it’s smooth between fingers. Set aside in a bowl.

Grind the ragi, along with water as required, until coarse. Add the ground ragi to the urad dal. Add salt to taste and mix with your hand. Set aside overnight and allow to ferment.

The following morning, the ragi batter would have risen for fermentation.

Prepare the idly mould by spreading a drop of ghee into each mould. This will help you remove the steamed idly with ease later. Set aside.

With a ladle, stir the batter gently and pour it into the prepared idly trays. Steam for 10-15 minutes. Remove from the cooker and allow to cool a little. Gently remove the idlys individually from the mould.

Serve topped with ghee, along with chutney and sambar, or both. There you have it: a traditional staple, superpowered by ragi!

Here in Tamil Nadu, the harvest festival of Pongal has begun, and all over the state families are celebrating the occasion. Delicious, piping hot chakkara pongal is customarily consumed, but alongside it ven pongal (white pongal, made with freshly harvested rice) is also made. Oh, and let’s not forget certain creative yet authentic pongal renditions that are out there, such as this red rice and jaggery pongal. As you can see, there are many kinds of pongal, and this year, I thought I’d share with you a lovely savoury one.

Ven pongal is a traditional breakfast, one of my own favourites. It is a part of regular temple offerings too. This ven pongal is similar to a khichdi, which is a basic mixture of dal and rice. Unlike khichdi, it’s to be eaten with chutney or sambar. While khichdi is normally eaten for lunch or dinner but seldom for breakfast, with pongal it’s the reverse. As I mentioned, it’s a breakfast dish, and is rarely seen at other times of the day or night – except when it’s eaten for tiffin, which is what we call a late afternoon meal in this region.

Whenever I have breakfast while out and about in Chennai or elsewhere in Tamil Nadu, I always reach for the ven pongal. To me, it takes pride of place on the restaurant menu alongside its more famous counterparts, idli and dosa. The latter two are the “safe choices” that most people usually stick to, but I love ven pongal for breakfast and find it just as reliably made across the state. It’s very refreshing, filling, satisfying and healthy – and sees me through the day up until a hearty lunch.

The rice that I use in the pongal made on Pongal comes from our farm, and I observe a local tradition on this day. As is custom, this is when I store rice for the household for the whole year. The older it gets, the better it tastes. It is preserved well through a natural method: the raw rice is dampened with castor oil, and neem leaves are layered on it as I fill the storage barrels. This ensures that bugs stay away, given the humidity and the climate of this region. This raw rice is eaten throughout the year. When it is rinsed before use, the castor oil goes way, and any residue left is healthy for the body in any case. You can see a part of the process in the photograph below.

My love for this dish started in childhood. We had many Tamilian friends in our neighbourhood, so my familiarity with South Indian flavours and cooking began early. The house beside ours had girls of my age, and so we used to hang out together all the time. In those days, there were no TVs, computers or other electronic devices to keep us distracted indoors, so our hobbies were to run around, climb trees (eating fruits from them and being bitten by hairy caterpillars, as I’ve recounted on this blog before), play fun games that kids no longer seem to do and generally make a racket.

With these particular neighbours, we often spent the late afternoon together. I would go to their house at around 3.30pm, right in time for tiffin. We would sit on their front porch, enjoying leisure time together. My friends’ grandmother would oil, comb and braid their long hair and decorate it with jasmine. As she did, she would tell stories. I would watch their grooming ritual, listen to their Paati’s tales and enjoy the snack of the day. Very often, it was vada (savoury fried dough) or ven pongal, like the recipe I’m sharing with you today.

While I was growing up, my mother would sometimes make this too. This was because I would bring recipes back and forth between the different homes in our neighbourhood. Pre-blog and even pre-Internet, I already loved the exchange of kitchen techniques and secrets! South Indian families we grew up with also ate quite a bit of Gujarati food as a result. Of course, festivals meant gathering together and sharing meals too. It’s funny how connected we all were in that time before cellphones. I had such a lovely, inter-cultural upbringing – it contained food, heritage, granny tales and so much more from my family and well beyond. I feel like my children missed out on those simpler times, since technology began to dominate when they were little. I wonder how the generation of today fares, with even more at their disposal, and perhaps with even more disconnection in the world. What are your thoughts on all this?

Ven Pongal

(Yield: serves 3-4)

 

½ cup split mung dal

½ cup raw rice

3½ cups water to cook

2 tablespoons ghee

1 tablespoon cumin seeds

1 teaspoon whole black pepper

3 tablespoon split cashews

2 teaspoons finely minced ginger

Salt to taste

A handful of curry leaves

 

Mix the dal and rice together and rinse well. Heat a pan and add the mixed rice and dal to it. Sauté until they release an aroma. Do not allow the grains to turn colour.

Now, add the water, salt and 1 tablespoon of ghee. Pressure cook until tender. This will take approximately 20-25 minutes.

In another pan, add the remaining ghee. Once it has heated, add the cumin seeds and pepper. Next, add the curry leaves and ginger. Finally, add the cashews. Once this tempering has turned golden, add it to the steaming hot rice mixture.

Mix well and serve warm. It can be eaten on its own, or with sambar or chutney.

Whether you’re having this as a festive dish, or just snacking on it at tiffin or breakfast, I hope that you find it as delicious as I do. If you happen to enjoy it while sitting on your porch or balcony with dear friends, as I used to as a child, I’d especially love it if you could paint me a picture of those special moments in the comments! Food is such an intrinsic part of bonding, is it not?

As a Gujarati who was born and brought up in Tamil Nadu, I am lucky to have the advantage of knowing and being a part of both cultures. Naturally, this extends to the cuisines as well. Although what is served for lunch nearly every day at home is a standard Gujarati thaali, which consists of rotis, a sabzi or vegetable and some dal, you can see the influence of my multicultural upbringing in the style of of some of the dishes. For instance, the sabzi of the day may be something cooked in a South Indian preparation. This ridge gourd stir-fry, or peerkanga pirratal as we know it in Tamil, is one such recipe in my eclectic repertoire.

I grow ridge gourd on my rooftop, and terrace gardening has also shown me firsthand the beautiful logic of Nature, which has designed things so that the produce that is most nourishing for those who live in the local climate is what grows best in that land too. Take the ridge gourd: high in water content, rich with fibre and minerals, and therefore just perfect for the weather of Chennai wherein our energy is easily depleted by the heat. If you live here, loading up your lunch bowl with this ingredient gives you exactly the boost you need for the rest of the day.

Of course, rounding out the standard meal would be some form of carbs, also known as the bane of my life. So here’s the trick: the Buddha bowl trompe l’oeil. Serving style and visual presentation always impact our perception of what we’re consuming. By putting just two tablespoons of white rice into a bowl and filling the rest with this ridge gourd stir-fry, I don’t have that miserable feeling of holding myself back by skimping on the main part of the meal. Instead, the vegetables themselves become the main part of the meal. This dish is very much in the category of comfort food, and I sometimes literally eat bowlfuls of it!

This South Indian ridge gourd stir-fry is very simple, very unassuming and very wholesome. Just salt and turmeric are quite enough to enhance the natural flavour of the chief ingredient. In addition to the ridge gourd on my rooftop, there are coconut trees in my backyard that yield fruit all year around. I use my own homemade coconut oil and add freshly grated coconut to this dish too, so almost everything in this dish is homegrown and pure. Even a little kitchen garden can make such a difference to our cooking. There really is something special about cultivating and consuming our own ingredients.

Doing so is also a link to a traditional way of living and a traditional way of eating, and these are subjects I think about a lot, given how we need both of these for the sustainability of our planet. M husband and I love time-honoured dishes, but our adult children feel they require much more novelty and diversity in their diets. Being in sync with Nature and seasonal rhythms is important for our vitality too, and I wonder if this is something one becomes more aware of as we age and our palates change. Growing bodies and younger bodies with dynamic lifestyles do need more carbs and sugars, certainly. As discussed in my previous post, it’s quite interesting how kids and senior citizens have very similar tastes. I have been listening more and more to what my body, somewhere between those two extremes of life, needs. In my case, vegetables are what it often craves. If you’re the same, you’ll find much for your repertoire in this blog’s archives. While re:store is all about baked indulgences, the recipes here are more often than not about bringing pleasure and nutrition into everyday meals.

South Indian Ridge Gourd Stir-Fry

(Yield: Serves 2-3)

 

4 cups peeled and chopped ridge gourd

A few curry leaves

¼ cup grated coconut (optional)

2 tablespoons coconut oil

¼ teaspoon mustard seeds

¼ teaspoon cumin seeds

¼ teaspoon urad dal

Salt to taste

¼ teaspoon turmeric

½ cup water

1-2 green chillies

3 tablespoons soaked mung/yellow dal

 

In a pressure cooker, add the mung dal and the cut gourd. Add salt, turmeric and ½ cup of water. Allow to cook until tender (this should be about 2 whistles).

In another kadai, add the coconut oil. Once it has heated, add the mustard seeds, cumin seeds and ural dal. When they start to splutter, add the curry leaves.

Immediately after, add the vegetables from the pressure cooker and stir well. Once the concoction starts boiling, turn off the flame and add the grated coconut. You can skip this ingredient if you aren’t a fan, or if it isn’t available. Mix well. Garnish with coriander leaves and serve hot. This is usually an accompaniment to rice or rotis.

This South Indian-style ridge gourd stir-fry is a recipe I picked up along the way, and prefer to the Gujarati version that my mother used to make, which required chili and coriander powders. That said, sometimes it feels a bit painful when I’m confronted with very deeply-rooted authentic Gujarati dishes and find myself at a loss about how to prepare them. Fortunately, my sister who has had much more exposure to that cuisine is within reach, as well as friends and fellow bloggers, and I usually find what I’m looking for and learn through trial and error.

In fact, this gives me an opportunity to ask you: is it true that ridge gourd peel can be used in a chutney? Have you prepared this, and if so, would you care to share the recipe?

When I was a little girl, the month of Aadi in Chennai meant music being blared from temple speakers and a general atmosphere of colour and sound on the streets. Just like with the funeral processions full of flowers and drumming, I thought all of it was pure celebration. Now, as an adult, I appreciate the nuances, but there is still something about this month that catches my eye – and more accurately, my sense of smell. For temples small and large through the city make ritual offerings to the Goddess, which are then distributed to all. The scent of freshly made koozh (pronounced koo-lu), a millet-based porridge, fills the air along with devotional songs.