Southern Ambrosia…Andhra Bhawan…and a Promise

The husband will not miss Kashmiri if I never cook it. The son does not much care for the regular no-nonsense everyday-Maharashtrian. I eat Thai all by myself…But we all agree on South Indian! What can I say? We were South Indians in previous life. There is no other explanation. How else can you explain that my FIL, a Maharashtrian born and brought up in Jabalpur (MP), my late MIL, born and brought up in Jodhpur (Rajasthan), my dear H, born in Pune and brought up in saddi Dilli, I, born in Srinagar and brought up likewise, and our son, a 100% Delhiite, should all agree that South Indian food rocks. Period.

It is, by far, the most popular cuisine in our home. I realise I have included practically the entire peninsular India in this categorization - starting south of Maharashtra of course . And it does not start and end at the dosa-idli-upma for us - no sir/madam - we like to go the whole hog. As much as we can.

My love affair with South Indian food started when a lot of infatuations do, in my teens. But this turned out to be life long affair. Two of my best friends in school were from Tamil Nadu. Rajamma and Bhuvaneshwari. We were in grade 9. Our school introduced an additional short break of about 15 minutes at around 11 in the morning. That would be the time to peek into each other’s lunch boxes, if we hadn’t already done so. Soul satisfying curd rice is one lingering memory I have of Rajamma’s tiffin. I could never have enough of that. The smells from their tiffin were so different from mine but wonderfully delicious.

And you cannot contain the fragrance of the kadi-patta to the back row…it travels. Before long Rajamma’s tiffin would have been licked clean. But I would take her along to my home for a hot lunch of dal-roti-subzi during the lunch break. Yup, those were idyllic times. Actually, we were lucky to live in IITD and my school (KVIIT) was a quick sprint from home. When most of the students would sit all around the school lawns, under shady Neem trees, I would, often, walk home for lunch.

I had many a dosa, adai, and idlies from my friends’ tiffins. Since we all lived close to school, I would look forward to the occassional invite for lunch and savour more of their everyday kind of food. I particularly remember that at Rajamma’s there would usually be a vegetable-dal dish, not the sambar, which was heavenly with the short, clumpy rice.

We graduated from school and went on to study at different colleges in Delhi. I missed their tiffins. And I needed to do something about it desperately. The curd rice I managed to recreate, since it is such a simple dish.

Then my mother became very good friends with her school principal and his family, the Bhujangaraos, from Andhra! Mrs Rao’s upma was diffferent, her mango pickle with garlic was to die for. Many times, she would invite us over. There were many others from the South - a neighbour in the house oppposite ours, with the drumstick tree…I hesitatingly walked into her house one day and asked for a recipe for sambar!

CY Gopinath wrote a few articles in TOI during that time which were a blast to read and gave me further insights into Tamil (I think he is Tamil) food.

Al Yakhni (Bottle Gourd in a Yoghurt Sauce)

Agar firdaus bar ru-e zamin ast
Hami ast o-hami ast o-hami ast…If there is Paradise on earth, it is this, it is this, it is this…goes this famous Persian couplet

describing Kashmir, not the humble ghia (doodhi, bottle gourd) of course, or al (pronounced ‘ul’ as in ultra) in Kashmiri.

Let’s go back to Kashmir for a bit, away from the hot sultry environs of stuffy (at the moment) Delhi. While half the country is drowning in floods, there has been hardly any rain here in Delhi. The clouds come raising our hopes and then the winds just blow them away.

And the bottle gourd is the kind of mellow vegetable that sits well in this weather. Nature knows how to balance cravings with abundance. There is plenty of good gourd in the market. Cooked in a light sauce, not greasy, not spicy. Perfect with steamed rice. And I have been craving rice.

The other day my cousin’s wife was shocked that we, in this house, cook roti for both meals. Actually, I think she felt a little sorry for me…The only roti Kashmiris traditionally had was the breads from the friendly neighbourhood naanwai (baker). It is not that rice is not important in Maharashtrian cuisine. It is. In fact, in most homes, it is served as the first (with dal) and last course (with dahi) at all meals. But, as in my family here, roti is still the main course.

Kashmiri cuisine makes room for roti and breads only at breakfast and afternoon tea. And these are never made in the house. Rice is the main staple as it is in Southern India where all the dosas and idlis, so popular even in the North, are served only as tiffin, as ‘minor’ meals.

So, with all the roti around me at all meal-times, there are times when I need to get back in touch with my Kashmiri side. There is a deep satiation that can only be brought about by a meal of rice and curry. With nothing coming between you and your rice - mixing in bits of chunky vegetables or meat into the rice using your fingers and taking it from hand to mouth in a loving graceful move. It is an almost complete sensual involvement - the visual, the smell, the taste, and the touch.

The use of saunf (fennel) as an integral spice in Kashmiri cooking separates it completely from the other cuisines of North India. In fact, coriander, the most common of Indian spices, is not much used. And the coriander leaf (cilantro), never. I think the fennel is a Persian legacy, as are all the breads from the naanwai. The Mughals were in love with Kashmir as is obvious from the Persian couplet quoted at the beginning, and must have cooked up quite a Wazwan with their spices which, over time, got assimilated into the local cuisine.

Yakhni is the common name for all yoghurt based sauces. I don’t use the word ‘curry’ here because there is no such term in Kashmiri cuisine. This recipe for the bottle gourd is subtly spiced with fennel and dry ginger powder. It is mildly spicy without much heat since cayenne is not used (surprise, surprise). I do, however, like to add some green chillies (surprise, surprise!) which impart another degree of subtleness to the dish. Other vegetables that may be prepared in a similar way are the lotus stem (kamal kakdi - Hindi, nadur - Kashmiri) and karela (bitter gourd). The meat based yakni is different and uses additional spices.

Al Yakhni (Bottle Gourd in a Yoghurt Sauce)