Udipi evokes a memory. The memory of having breakfast and lunch – day in and day out – at a joint by that name on Delhi’s Bahadur Shah Zafar Marg many summers ago. Working as a trainee in a newspaper on that road, and living away from home in a new city, my find was a cause of relief as much for its simple, tasty food as it was for its trainee-friendly rates.
Mother-daughter duo Malati Srinivasan and Geetha Rao’s recently published “The Udipi Kitchen” (Westland), however, takes me much further into the region than just refreshing that fond food memory of mine. Packed with hundred vegetarian recipes from the kitchens of their community, the Madhawa Brahmins, residing in that famous temple town of Karnataka, the book is as much an opportunity for the interested one to widen his repertoire of Indian regional cooking as it is to understand a food culture that can broadly be categorised as “bygone”.
The book begins with Malati opening a window to her childhood, of watching the women of her family prepare food, particularly her aunt Athi, the one she says is responsible for developing in her a serious interest in cooking. To enter the kitchen, every morning, after her bath, aunt Athi “wore a fresh sari and a blouse that had been washed and dried on a horizontal pole hung below the dining room ceiling, adjoining the kitchen.”
Malati gives an interesting peek into the ritual of cooking followed in those days in Udipi, their traditional kitchen setup and the processes involved in dishing out a traditional meal, also coffee, before the advent of machines in kitchens. How interesting it is to read, and think of the times that were when she writes, “In our home, dawn was signalled by the sound of tinkling cowbells; the milkman’s arrival with his milch cow in tow, sometimes accompanied by a newly-birthed calf. The tethered cow was milked in front of our home; straight into the milk vessel….”
And the making of degree coffee, that speciality of a South Indian household? “Making the coffee decoction was a process, where coffee powder was put into a piece of long cloth, placed on the mouth of a vessel, over which boiling water was poured,” she writes.
Talking about it in an email interview from Toronto, where she is now based, Malati states what remains of that culture and what has moved. “Rituals associated with daily cooking are still followed by women in orthodox Madhwa Brahmin families. Concepts of ‘ritual purity’ or ‘ madi’ are adhered to where food is not cooked, until the cook has bathed and is attired in freshly washed clothes,” she says.
The Madhwa Brahmin cuisine uses a lot of masale pudi, spice powders that many families, including hers still make at home. “Hand pounders have been replaced by electric grinders, making the whole process quicker and more efficient. Some branded spice powders are good substitutes,” she adds.
As far as running the coffee decoction through a cloth is concerned, Malati’s daughter, Bangalore-based Geetha Rao says, “Thankfully, it is no more made that way in homes these days though cooks follow the method when catering to large functions like weddings.”
Traditional utensils made of bell metal, bronze, copper, brass, iron and wood were a norm in a Udipi household when Malati was growing up. “Bell metal or kanchu, a hard alloymade from copper and tin, in the ratio 4:1 was the most preferred metal for utensils. It was a good conductor of heat and retained heat well as well as it did not tarnish. Utensils, like the narrow mouthed Annada patre (a vessel for cooking rice) Halina patre (a vessel for boiling milk) and Yenne gindi , (a vessel to store oil) were common. Urali , a wide-mouthed vessel with beautifully carved handles, was used for ceremonial occasions, when payasam was made, as it needed slow cooking without burning the dish,” she recalls.
Geetha adds, “Wooden spoons and spatulas were used to stir the cooking food and serve pickles. I bought several in the quaint stores that surround the Krishna Temple in Udupi and use them every day.”
Though to an outsider, most South Indian food seems the same, particularly for its medium of cooking, its seasoning, this is not the case as far as Udipi menu is concerned.
Geetha highlights, “A distinguishing feature of an Udupi menu are the gojjus, sweet, sour and spicy gravies cooked with vegetables and fruits. They are served in between courses as palate cleansers, similar to sorbets in a French meal. Some of the signature gojjus are hagalkay gojju made from sliced bitter gourds; pineapple gojju; drakshi gojju made from raisins and the unique kittlehannu sippe gojju made from the diced peel of loose-jacketed oranges that gives a unique, mild, bitter, after taste.”
Though times have changed and traditional practices like wood fire cooking have nearly vanished from most middle-class households, Malati feels it has not affected the taste of the traditional food significantly. “I feel that today heightened awareness of food gives you deeper insight into food practices and often taste is enhanced, for example, adding onions to the potato palya in the masal dose or kharabhat.”
The changing lifestyle also doesn’t mean traditional food can’t fit into it, that they are weight enhancing as often alleged. Geetha mentions, “Many of the recipes are wholesome and cater to vegetarians, vegans and those requiring gluten-free diets. The palyas are simple and quick to make, nutritious because they are stir fried or steamed. So are the yoghurt-based dishes and the tiffin varieties like dosas idlis and upmas.”
For someone who survived on Udipi fare for nearly a year, it is time to nod a yes to her! Nnnn
