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Cruising through the ‘Madrasi Zone’ with Curry Leaves and Chickpeas
September 10, 2008 | 69 Comments
As a child, curry leaves to me where part of the keedey-makodey (Hindi for ‘critters’) along with chillies and mustard seeds I had to pull out of my food.
I had no idea why my mom would haggle with the vegetable vendor for a bigger bunch when it was going to be picked out and thrown away anyway. Much like the bay leaf or kaffir lime leaf, it is bitter on its own, but lends an aroma and smoky depth of flavour that is not immediately discernible, but is missed when absent.
My palate is far from discriminating and during the many years I lived outside India without curry leaves, I never missed them at all. Prior to that, the only use my friends and I had had for curry leaves was to counter the “Madrasi monologues”.
Map of India.
Black horizontal line – indicates Madrasi zone to the south
Black vertical line – to the east live those Chinese-looking types
Blue arrow on the west coast – the city of Bombay (now called Mumbai)
Orange arrow on the south-west coast – the state of Kerala
Green arrow on the south-east coast – the city of Madras (now called Chennai)
Many Indians (at least in Bombay, where I grew up) have an arbitrary line drawn across the map of India in their heads. Two, in fact.
To many north Indians, just about where Maharashtra (the state where Bombay is located) ends, begins the ‘Madrasi zone’. Madrasis are supposed to be dark-skinned, the women have long oily hair and wear a lot of gold jewellery, and they all speak a strange guttural language.
Both my parents came from the ‘Madrasi zone’ – one from Kerala, the other from Andhra Pradesh, but the differences between them were quite pronounced. They didn’t understand each other’s languages. Think Korean and Chinese. Or Texan and Mexican. Neighbours, but quite distinct linguistically, culturally and in terms of appearance. The ‘Madrasi zone’ encompasses four states with several distinct languages, scripts and religions, but what the heck, they’re all equally weird and none of the ‘mainstream’ Indians understand what they are saying. The same goes for “those Chinese-looking types” to the east of Bengal.
Many south Indians return the favour. Everyone who speaks Hindi or Gujarati is lumped into the ‘north Indian’ niche. One of my Tamilian friends who wanted to marry a Marathi guy had her dad blow a gasket because “my daughter will not marry a north Indian”.
Pune (in central Maharashtra) is 916 km (about 570 miles) away from Madras. That’s about the distance between San Francisco and San Diego in California. However, the arbitrary line in the head makes Pune and Madras a world apart. They went ahead and got married anyway, and now it’s “As long as she married an Indian it doesn’t matter.”
It’s a real pity no one pointed out to him that that the drive to the Pakistan border from Pune is shorter than the drive to Madras.
‘North Indian’ as a geographical and cultural marker is less bothersome to me than ‘Madrasi’, which is
1. incorrect – a very small percentage of south Indians are from Madras and less than a fourth of south Indians speak or understand Tamil, which is the lingua franca of Madras.
2. used in a derogatory sense to denote “conservative”, “rigid”, “unsophisticated”, “with a poor fashion sense”.
You think not? Well, here’s a ‘Madrasi’ primer for ya.
Bombay has the most crowded passenger railway system in the world – about 255 million passenger-km per km of route annually. My friends and I would commute to college in the ladies’ compartment. Cram four hormonal women per square foot in a metal box with rapidly thinning oxygen for an hour, and there are bound to be some very entertaining arguments. Who’s stepping on whose foot, whose purse is poking whose ribs, etc.
When the barbs flew back and forth, someone would pull out the ‘Madrasi’ card.
She’d extricate her nose from someone’s armpit, take in a big breath, and declare:
“You Madrasis should stop crowding our trains. You take our jobs, put coconut oil in your hair, eat curd rice and talk in your andu gundu language. Go back to where you came from.”
Bravo!!! The chatter subsides to silence. The non-Madrasis start nodding their heads, resisting the urge to applaud.
If I was lucky to have a seat, I would be nudged by one of the ladies on either side of me.
Lady, in a half-whisper: “I have a Madrasi boss and he only gives promotions to his fellow Madrasis.”
I nod. “Yeah. They are weird.”
She: “Why can’t they learn to speak Hindi properly? They have such a strange accent.”
Me: “Yeah, strange accent.”
My friends join in. “Yeah, darn strange accent.”
Lady: “I’m Gujarati. Dikra, tu Parsi che?”
Me: “Umm….. no… not Parsi.”
Lady: “Where are you from, then?”
Me: “I’m from Kerala … you know … a Madrasi.”
Lady, with her face about to implode: “But you’re not dark and you have short hair. You don’t look Madrasi.”
Then, brightly: “Madrasis are very clever … and very good at math. The girl who always tops my son’s class is Madrasi.”
My friend: “It’s got to do with all the curry leaves we inhale rolled up with the weed.”
Me: “Curry leaves and coconut oil. Try putting some in your son’s hair. It helps with geography too.”
Other friend in exaggerated ‘Madrasi’ accent: “Try saying ‘Annnnduuuu Gunnnnnddddduuu’ slowwwwly a hundred times. It clears phlegm from the nasal passages and cures tonsillitis.”
And we would carry on “taking the p!ss”, as we called it. There would be the “I-told-you-these-Madrasis-are-crazy” glances exchanged around us, interrupted by a new fight … this time about “those bhaiyyas“. I tell ya, I miss those train rides and my smartass friends.
We are used to being without curry leaves for two to three months a year since the supply where we live is sporadic. We find it quite dispensable and freely substitute it with sage, oregano, and kaffir lime leaves (in sour dishes).
Sage and oregano are easy to grow and kaffir lime leaves retain flavour and freeze very well.
Curry leaves lose flavour as they dry out and are rather difficult to grow in our arid, extreme weather.
While the substitutes taste equally good, the end result does not taste like my mother’s cooking. When I get nostalgic and crave those childhood flavours, I turn to Ammini Ramachandran’s recipes. Amminichechi, as I call her (‘chechi’ means ‘elder sister’ in Malayalam) has a background and cultural heritage uncannily similar to my mother’s. (Read about it HERE)
She is a food historian and cookbook author whose Grains, Greens and Grated Coconuts: Recipes and Remembrances of a Vegetarian Legacy won first place in the 2007 Cordon d’Or International Cookbook Awards.
Ammini Ramachandran’s recipes and articles can be found at her site: Peppertrail.com.
The ingredient list in her recipes is short and almost all the savoury dishes call for a cup … or two … or three … of freshly grated coconut, along with “12 to 15 fresh curry leaves”. So this time when we visited the East Coast, we brought a curry leaf plant back on the plane with us.
It’s not doing too well, but we’ll see how well it survives the winter indoors.
South Indian cuisine, in particular, prizes the curry leaf – Murraya koenigii, not to be mistaken for the ‘curry plant‘ of south European origin. The curry leaf plant is from the Rutaceae (citrus family) that also includes the kaffir lime, pomello, bergamot and the prickly ash tree that yields the Sichuan peppercorn.
The curry leaf plant, called “Girinimba’ (sweet neem) in Sanskrit, is native to tropical Asia, south India and Sri Lanka. The taste is bitter, and the aroma is a curious mix of citrus and the “earthy, acrid smell of freshly poured asphalt, or possibly scorched brake pads”.
Every kitchen garden in Kerala has a curry leaf bush several feet tall, covered with swarms of butterflies during flowering season. It is an indispensable ingredient in Ammini Ramachandran’s Houston kitchen as well.
She shares a recipe from her wonderful book, where the curry leaf is the star, and tell us what this herb means to her. We Keralites love the earthy flavour of kadala – brown chickpeas – as a gravy eaten with puttu (steamed layered cakes with rice and coconut). Or as a snack (one of my childhood favourites), sauteed with curry leaves and chillies. No coconut in this one. The Tamilian version of this dish is called sundal.
We are delighted to have her author a guest post for us.
- Bee
A WHIFF OF KERALA
by Ammini Ramachandran
Curry leaves are an irreplaceable flavor component of the south Indian kitchen.
The cook tosses a fistful of freshly-plucked curry leaves into hot oil or ghee along with whole cumin seeds and mustard seeds. The slender leaves hiss and sputter instantly, engulfing the kitchen in their fragrance.
For some dishes, flash frying is step one, with the other ingredients — coconut milk, vegetables, or rice — added once the aromatics release their fragrance. For other dishes, the fried curry leaves and spices make a dramatic final garnish. We use curry leaves in just about everything we cook, from chutneys to curries to breakfast dishes – the list goes on.
They have a fresh and pleasant aroma, remotely reminiscent of citrus fruits. They are also of some importance in the cuisines of Northern India. Together with South Indian immigrants, curry leaves reached Malaysia, Singapore and South Africa.
Apart from cooking, the curry leaf has immense medicinal value. The leaves, root and stem of the plant contain minerals and essential oils used to prevent nausea and to cure stomach upsets. It is also used in treating skin irritations and poisonous bites. It is an essential ingredient in the traditional medicine system of India, sometimes with amazingly good results.
Fresh curry leaves are available now in Indian markets in the United States. These fragrant leaves are very tender and best when used as soon as possible. They remain fresh if wrapped and stored in the refrigerator, for up to two weeks.
They can be frozen and kept for future use, but should not be removed from the stalk in that case. Curry leaves lose their delicate fragrance when dried.
There was a time when I had no choice but use dried leaves. When I first came to the United States decades ago, the closest store that carried some Indian groceries – dals and spices – was two hundred miles away. Fresh Indian produce was not available anywhere. I used to fondly remember how the vegetable vendors back home always threw in some extra bunches of curry leaves.
During my trips home I used to dry curry leaves in the shade and bring them back. Tossed in hot oil they had just a faint aroma – or was I just imagining? I don’t know. Thankfully, procuring curry leaves is not a problem now.
KADALA (Spicy Brown Chickpeas)
from Grains, Greens and Grated Coconuts (p. 286)
This simple bean dish is a traditional offering at temples during the nine-day Navarathri festival. It is a healthy snack, and it also makes a good side dish for brunch. Whole garbanzo beans may be substituted for brown Indian chickpeas.
Makes 6 to 8 servings.
2 cups dried brown chickpeas
salt to taste
1 tbsp vegetable oil
1 tsp brown or black mustard seeds
2 dried red cayenne, serrano or Thai chillies, or 1/2 tsp crushed red pepper
1/4 tsp asafoetida powder (optional)
12 to 15 fresh curry leaves
2 fresh green chillies (serrano or Thai), thinly chopped
Wash and soak the chickpeas overnight in plenty of water. Rinse them in several changes of water until the water runs clear.
Cover them with water and cook them with the turmeric until very soft but not mushy in a pressure cooker or on the stovetop.
Drain well, sprinkle with salt, and set aside.
Heat oil in a large skillet, add the mustard seeds. When they start popping, add the rest of the ingredients (except the chickpeas) and panfry.
Add the cooked chickpeas to the pan and mix well. Stir for a minute or two.
Remove from the stove and serve warm or at room temperature.
Variations
1. Using canned garbanzo beans. Rinse the beans, drain, sprinkle salt and turmeric, and proceed.
2. Coconut-Mango Sundal. After frying the spices and chillies, add two tsps of fresh lime juice along with the drained chickpeas. Panfry for a minute or two, stirring continuously. Remove from the stove. Add one medium-sized raw green mango cut into small cubes and half a cup of freshly grated coconut. Stir, garnish with cilantro leaves, and serve.
A VIDEO PEEK INSIDE Grains, Greens and Grated Coconuts
Spicy Brown Chickpeas is our entry for My Legume Love Affair hosted this month by Lucy of Nourish Me.
Filed Under: Ammini-Ramachandran, brown-chickpeas, Chillies/Peppers, cookbook, Curry leaves, Grains Greens and Grated Coconuts, India, kadala, Kerala, Madrasi, MUSINGS, vegan recipes, vegetarian recipes
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69 Comments
I laughed my head off reading your post. Yes, as an outsider and lover of South India, I have heard all of these things too. And curry leaves – when I was first starting to learn to cook Indian food, I would cook some nice things, but there was something missing and I could never work out what it was. I could never get the same tastes as the prasadam I was served, or the food I remembered from India. Then I discovered curry leaves! What a difference they make. I grow my own here too. It is tough going at times but worth the effort. Occasionally my Asian shop has fresh ones.
Very interesting and hilarious read Bee. I’m actually from Madras and proud to be a Madrasi and am longing to get back there.
The coconut mango sundal is very famous, especially sold in Marina Beach. I’m not able to view the final picture, I don’t know if it’s my computer!
Thank you so much for including the event in the calendar. Actually I wanted to contact you and found that you have already done that. Thank you once again.
Ammini, it’s so good to read you on Jugalbandi. Your book is my go-to cookbook for vegetarian recipes. Congrats on a new edition and all those well-deserved awards!
Hugs!
That was a very enjoyable read Bee – both your piece and Ammini’s. I freeze curry leaves and though they are no where close to the fresh ones, I find them better than dried leaves. Another method I’ve seen people use is to deep fry them in oil. They keep for a long time in the fridge and are said to retain the aroma.
Black chickpea Sundal is a favorite at our home.
Bee, Madras has changed a lot actually, more than I can take. The TV media and especially Vijay TV are literally following the American style of reality shows, which is really a shock to me, inspite of the fact that I’m living in the US for the past 5 years. Guess, I’m still very conservative even after leaving Madras, but they have changed tremondously. I can’t believe what I’m seeing in the dance competition in Vijay TV. It’s like the Dancing with the Stars here and the costumes and movements are not the ones I have seen in TV while growing up. There is absolutely no difference between the regular masala movies and the TV shows these days. Can a place/culture change so much in 5 years?
I was pretty much rolling down reading “Applying coconut oil & curry leaves in ur son head, will help in geography” ha ha he he
Hope and wish ur curry plant should survive indoor!
Being a madrasi, i only faced this kind of “Madrasi critics” in US ! That should be very suprising for many but that is true!
Coming to Sundal, as Madhu said that reminds Beach side vendors “Tenga manga pattani sundal” Beautiful picture of sundal Bee
That was a great post Bee..I love being a madrasi!!
Brilliant post. Loved reading!
And I’m a Madrasi too who endured the Bombay trains and am now far away from home, evoking memories of home by whipping up things in the kitchen. Curry leaves are usually a must!
Cheers
Bee, kadipatta does not like to be repotted so when you do, put it in the largest planter that you would want to grow it in so that you don’t have to do it again for several years.
heee loved reading this post in its entirety…. what about the north indian/punjabi sterotypes (that i hate being labeled with) like being very show-offy (thats why we have elaborate weddings…. so we wanna show off)…
c’mon now, riding through the streets on a horse is show-offy.
that was a nice read!
I love sundal. Especially the mango ones
I love your story– you and your friends are quite the good sports. I’m not sure I wouldn’t have run away in the opposite direction at full speed.
Definitely it will not have a problem growing in our humidity…
I wonder if we have the curry plant here, just that nobody uses it. The flavor of citrus + asphalt is intriguing to me
Loved the post.. absolutely entertaining. I had pple in Singapore ask me how my roomie could be from South india since she was so fair! I couldn’t stand that generalization.
Coming to the curry leaves plant, I have 3 on my deck now, thanks to a fried and what we learnt is that if you have atleast 10 stems, then we need to pick the lowest one… and that enables the plant to grow and get some height. If left as is, then it doesn’t grow as much. Not sure though if that’s what you are referring to when you say it’s not doing too well…
I started off that way too, skimming off the curry leaves, green chillies, red chillies etc much to my mother’s annoyance. But now I love it.
Your post is hilarious. Being from the south, it upsets me when people categorise us that way. Just ignorance I guess.
Reminds me about an old hindi serial called “Ghar Jamai” starring satish Shah and Anant Mahadevan.
enjoyed ur post,..nice recipe,,.
Very hilarious post Bee! I have never lived outside Tamilnadu and hence could not get a feel of it but have read and heard about the mindsets of people who think about Madarasis. Curry leaves are my favorite. If you want to store them for a longer period just dry roast them in a pan til you get the aroma and powder it and store in an airtight container. It keeps well.
ah!! stereotypes!! madrasis, gultis, gujjus, bhaiyyas, mallus, sardars, bengalis (the list is endless…if we run out of regions, we have caste and religion too…then we can go on to languages, dialects and accents)…..to differenciate simply add “those” while using them as abuses…..funny what a bunch we are…. ammini ramachandran as guest blogger…that’s fabulous…so’s the kadala
goodness – i laughed myself silly over this one. “the chinese looking type”?!? haha – political correctness be damned!
i’m gonna get me one of those plants.
I knew a “North Indian” who would ask me every time we met if I was from “Three-veen-dhrum” despite me telling her exactly which part of Kerala Iam from.
I hate being called a madrasi and I’ll go into elaborate geography lessons if anyone calls me one. Bee, don’t repot curry leaves, they don’t take it well. They also need scorching sunshine to thrive.
Love sundal, Ammminichechi. It was nice to read your post!
I had someone from Calcutta telling me she thought all the four South Indian languages were the same! But listen to this – I’ve had people from “Chinnai” hopefully asking if Telugus speak Tamil too! And being disappointed with the answer.
Hilarious conversation there on the train! And the chickpeas are my favourite mid-afternoon snack!
well I am a telugu speaking madrasi..heheh…I guess its more to how to react to things ppl say…hilarious post…curry plant looks lovely..
Jugalbandits: Well, from a non-Indian perspective I don’t see the difference between north and south much (or east and west); all I know so far is that you are all CRAZY!
Just kidding of course (somewhat), as I am aware of many differences…plus I’ve heard Tamil spoken and I can’t catch a darned thing. Say it slower once again.
Ammini, I don’t know how you got talked into this, but this was a lovely piece to read, and it is indeed marvelous that fresh curry leaves can be had here in the states now. As for me I would never plucked them out of a dish!
very nice post. liked the recipe and loved reading it too..:)
What a delightful post:-)What can one say about people’s assumptions and generalisations. BTW, we’re from the region of ‘those Chinese looking types’(Assam). Well, you’ve seen Rengoni and Agastya as an example of how we may look like:-)
People need to get a grip on their history and geography lessons…some Indians don’t even know where Assam is on the map (some haven’t even heard of it)…yes, I’ve been asked that…well,you know Assam tea, and yet, not know where Assam is !! Ah well! I have taught myself to brush off and smile at their ignorance
Sorry for the long comment,just couldn’t help it:-)
The post on the recipe was wonderful too
Bombay local trains besht.
Only.
Just.
Simply also.
With or without Keo Karpin.
how did you forget ‘juliet’ whatever?
I throw in curry leaves to just about every Indian dish I make!
As a kid, I would always painstakingly extricate every single leaf from whatever dish my mother would make. But now, I chop it up real fine, so it mixes well with the food!
One can also cut it up with scissors!
Ok so there are u as ur usual self…venting out ….I know what u mean ,when u talk about the train scenario…believe me when i say things are pretty much same even now…despite of people getting more educated about the geog. Any southindian is still considered as Madrasi,and their language is is known as ANDU GUNDU NARU GUNDU..sort of…Now that i come across blog sites dedicated to different cuisines do i know what is a difference between keralite and Andhra,Telugu and Tamil…though i still cannot make out from the language ,which region the person belongs too,but atleast i dont dismiss of every southIndian as Madrasi….Thanks to wonderful bloggers sharing the peculiarities of their regions
you surely mean “specialities” from their regions, LOL. -j
What a great story! I went to India for the first time this year and I can tell that I barely scratched the surface. Went through Kerala with Ammini’s book–it was a terrific guide to the delicious food we had there. And thanks for the link to Spicelines curry leaf post–it was my own Bee, by the way, who compared the scent to “scorched brake pads.”
Courtenay
what a wonderful post! The train story was a riot! Thsoe bombay trains are something i tell ya! I’m sure u miss all that – especially in your neck fo the woods;-)
Nice read on Amminnichechi and the pics are wonderful!
Bee, that was a fun read. I miss those local trains too (although I can’t honestly say I long to be on one) and that constant natter about all things mundane.
The chickpeas look wonderful: it is my favorite legume, and the curry leaves must add a wonderful flavor.
I totally identify with the ‘Madrasi’ phenomenon. In the map the horizontal line could even be taken higher if you ask these ‘North Indians’
When we acknowledge that Punjabi, Haryanvi, Hindi, Bhojpuri etc are different why is it so difficult to accept that Kannada, Tamil, Telugu & Malyalam are totally different languages? I have always been teased about the ‘andu gundu’ kannada language, some one used to say that the South Indian languages sound as if someone is shaking a steel tumbler with a pebble in it!
Curry leaves really is the lifeline of South Indian cuisine. Cant imagine my kitchen without it!
That was a hilarious post Bee
). You are truely a bandit 
.
.
There are some more lines you may have to draw in the map. One of my Tamil friend thought Bangalore is not in South India!!. When we asked why he says that his answer was – “I thought only chennai is in South India!!”. I would love to have some friends like your friends
Ammini, great writeup about curry leaf. Konkani cuisine is so much like Kerala cuisine. I am one of those who can’t live without these fragrant leaves. This time I got a huge batch of sun dried curry leaves from India. They are not as good as fresh ones, but better to use them than not using at all.
oh, what a wonderful post! I had a good laugh reading the conversation with this Lady. But, I could imagine getting irritated about this ‘madrasi’ term, I wasn’t aware of it, but rather the ‘south Indian’ one, as I guess culturally there are surely cultural differences among the different regions. Since my father was working with the central gov. as an engineer, we moved from place to place after every few years and we always lived with neighbours from all over India and we had a couple of south Indian friends with very fair complexion too. I grew up with Bengali, Keralite, and Madrasi friends, not all at the same time. I knew the difference between the foods of kerala and madras, but, yes, I could never differentiate between the different languages from the south. I guess I don’t have a good ear for that.
Yummmm!
This is a lovely recipe. So simple and still so flavourful. I love black chickpeas, in fact much more than the white ones. I know a similar ‘madrasi’ version with coconut from our Tamil friends.
Girl, it’s always a treat when you go in to ‘spunky-sort-of-sensible ramble mode!
But surely all of you know that there was once a geo-political region called the Madras Province which covered most of the current South Indian states. After Independence came the Madras State, which was smaller than the province. So as far as history is concerned, it is not too long ago that Tamil Nadu and parts of Kerala, Andhra Pradesh and Karnataka were collectively called Madras. It was once explained to me that the term Madrasi originated from that period. My Indian history is quite terrible but this much even I know.
The capital of the province and subsequently the state was the city of Madras. In today’s context, it is easy to go ballistic about how parochial the term Madrasi is but it is not that easy to shrug off regional connotations that have history embedded in them.
The dark-fair thing is an Indian obsession but even that has a plausible explanation: the Dravidians and the Indo-Aryans. These, along with the term Madrasi, are all labels. You can take it as far as being racist or communcal or you can enjoy the drama that goes hand-in-hand with it. It would just be nice if all this were dumped and we were all called Indians. Sigh.
All this aside, the most important part that is being lost in all this noise is that this Madrasi business is just a decoy. What we should all be focusing on is the blasphemy that there exists a South Indian who does not like sambar.
Please please don’t ban me. I like commenting here even more than I like blogging on my own space. Hee!
Great read.
Have heard a lot of “drumstick sambhar” type comments. I used to tell them it was the secret of out intelligence.:)
Have lived in Mumbai for very short periods of time but I just cannot bring myself to miss the train “rides” and the crowds!
As for being Madrasi/ Punjabi, its a fun thing, really. I’ve had people ask me if I was Bengali because of my name! And people are still stumped when I tell them I am a Tamil speaking Keralite.
My husband who has a “fair complexion” and was wearing “pajama kurta” on a train once, had a few “Triplicane mamis” have a Tamil long conversation (not very complimentary) interspersed with looks at him, about these “North Indian types” without ever realising he could understand every word they said!!
Bee, hilarious post. but be careful as Thakrey khaandan seems to be on look out for real fights. first it was bachchans, then khans and next it might be ur turn
i have read simliar post at coffee’s too.
Ammani, Mangalorean cuisine is very much similar to Krala cuisine and curry leaves and coconut are the main ingredients used in alsmost all the recipe. i really enjoyed reading ur post.
Manisha, Karnataka belonged to Mysore province before independece.
How funny Bee…what a hysterical post. We Indians are so clannish at every step….LOL…they’re currently fighting it out within Mumbai! I was nodding madly throughout your post. My elder sis from North India married a Madrasi (as we call the poor man) & she never got to hear the end of it from me & my younger sis. Now she churns out Madrasi food from scratch from notes taken from her DHs grandmom. We sit & gape at her whenever we visit her in Dallas! I’ve spent the best years of my life down South…complete culture shock the 2 ends of India are!
Now with your post & Ammini Ramachandran’s recipe, I’m looking at my currypatta tree outside my window with new eyes. I’m going back to read your post again…
I remember traveling in the ladies compartment and hearing those comments. Brought back a lot of memories. When my mom and I would speak Malayalam, we would get that “Andu gundu” comment all the time.
Curry leaves are the essence of Kerala cooking. Luckily I get a whole pack of fresh curry leaves at my grocery store and I go through the entire pack every week.
No i mean”Peculiarities”….
Like i came to know that southinidan food doesn’t mean only IDLI-DOSA-WADA-SAMBHAR cuisine
Like:Andhra cuisine is mostly made in coconut oil
In karnatak cuisine mostly meal is started with dessert
Hyderabadi cuisine is fusion of Muslim and Hindu way of cooking
Tamilnadu or chettinad is more famous for its high in oil ,spicy curries to die for,not to forget that strong flavored filter coffee
And kerala more famous for rice based sweets and snacks(mostly pounded rice)
So after all this GYAN i gave u(which obviously u r already familiar with),let me hear where i am wrong !
Alka, Andhra food is not made with coconut oil at all. Traditionally, gingelly (til) oil or peanut oil was used. They are still popular. Now people use sunflower oil, too, of course.
Oh, and Onam greetings, Bee & Jai
Sia, see this: history of Tamil Nadu – parts of Karnataka were in Madras State. I believe the operative word is “parts”.
hee hee hoo! I read your post yesterday and have been laughing in my head since then!
The whole generalization thing is so pathetic, it has to be funny.
Thanks for the introduction to such a distinct lady. I visited her site and will be looking there much more.
And oh btw..in Dubai anyone south of that horizontal line is a “mallu”.
very well written. love the style. can i put a link to this post on my blog? for the regional foods series i am doing. here is the link http://myluvforfood.blogspot.com/2008/08/indian-cooking-101-regional-foods-part.html
and if u have some more authentic recipes,u can send me the links. i will put them up on this post
Happy Onam to both of you!