food glorious food

Anyone close to me will understand how much I love food, so it is no surprise that I have dedicated this entire post to the subject. I can now say with very few reservations that I love Indian food. It has certainly taken some getting used to, but at long last I find myself looking forward to meals and relishing in the stinging lips that inevitably accompany our feasting.

I was initially surprised at the lack of variety in South Indian food. The different dishes can be counted on one hand. The food culture is just different. It seems like Indians do not necessarily eat for enjoyment. The minute the food comes out, it is quickly and without ceremony devoured. The idea of social eating or lingering over a meal for hours is a foreign one. Whether this is due to the scarcity that millions experience here, or something else entirely, I cannot say.

The table manners too are entirely foreign to me. Food will be served on a banana leaf. When you first sit down, you are expected to sprinkle your leaf with water and rub it all over the leaf. Is this to clean it you ask? Or maybe the purpose is to moisten the leaf for the hot food? Or could it just be habit? I’m sorry to say, I really am not sure. But when Indians do something, you do it too.

Once the food is served, you dig in. No utensils necessary, just put your fingers (right hand only please- left hand is reserved for bathroom duties) together, pick up a handful, and shovel the food into your mouth using your thumb as a kind of caterpillar tractor. The breads are eaten in pieces. Grasp a chunk with your thumb and pointer finger, and using your remaining three fingers, pull off a piece. Resist the temptation to, in a fit of frustration, use your left hand. We have standards here.

Warning. If you, like me, decide to ignore all good medical advice and drink the water, know that the cups are communal. The cups here are small and heavy steel things with a large lip, perfect for pouring. Just tilt your head ever so slightly back and pour it in. Touching your lips to a drink, even a water bottle is repulsive in the extreme. The king of faux pas, not to mention a scream to germs everywhere “infect me, I’m just dying to be ill!”

Don’t even think about licking your fingers. Instead, fold the banana leaf towards you (that means you liked the meal), pick it up and dump it in a bucket outside, next to which will be a bucket of water where you can pour some water over your hand (hand mind you, never rub your left and right hand together) and wash up.

I will now proceed to describe the cuisine…. For the full effect I will include cost.

TIFFIN (breakfast/dinner)

The day begins and ends with a meal deemed “tiffin”. This is a small meal with little variety.  Early on, our group discovered a small tiffin stand a couple blocks away with cheap delicious food. We quickly made friends with the husband and wife who run the stand and joined the crowd that normally frequent the fly-ridden place. There is no need for menus, any stall will be sure to sell these items only. (Excuse my pathetic attempt at humor. Indians love to add the word “only” most unsuitably at the end of sentences).

Dosai………………………………………………………………..............………… 5 Rs. ($ .10)

(pronounced dosa) A thin and oily legume pancake. It essentially tastes like a lightly crunchy, sour crepe. It comes in many varieties: onion, ghee (clarified butter), tomato, and egg. It is then served alongside a sampling of coconut chutney and sanbar. If you are lucky they might throw mint or tomato chutney to the mix.

Expect to eat 2 to 3

Idly………………..………………………………………….............…… 4 Rs. per piece ($ .08)

A kind of rice cake made of dal that is soaked, ground and then steamed in a circular mold. These, like dosai have a faintly sour taste that is both parts addicting and disconcerting. It is best eaten (in my less than humble opinion) with chutney.

Expect to eat 4 to 5

Chapati………………..………………………………………….........…. don’t know don’t care

Unless you like bland, whole wheat, dry and cold tortilla like bread without even a hint of salt, stay far away. I beg of you. Chapati is unleavened horridness. I occasionally feel the urge to generously give chapati another chance, but it never fails to disappoint.

Do yourself a favor, try it once, then stop.

SAPPADU (lunch)

Lunch or sappadu…………………………………………………...…… 30-40 Rs. ($ .60- .80)

Lunch is always some form of rice- in tamil it is referred to as “sappadu”. This is similar to the oft inquired question “sapetingala?” or “have you eaten?”  It is generally the free white government rice. (Let me just take a small moment to explain- just know this is dreadfully simplified. India’s caste system has been illegal for a good half a century, but the government still distributes welfare through a kind of affirmative action system based on caste. I will devote an entire post to the sheer idiocy of this kind of policy later, but for now I will leave it at that. Each family is given a card based on their caste and then receive free rice (this is available to pretty much everyone) and then other commodities like sugar, salt, and kerosene for the lower castes). It’s dry, not well-salted, and very much in need of some moisture and flavor. It is topped with rasam or sanbar.

As brief warning, rice, especially white government rice is really not one of those things you should eat every day. Your bowels will thank me later.

Rasam

Chili broth. That’s really all it is. The transparent liquid is unfortunately devoid of any salt. It graces the top. And yes, it is as disgusting as it sounds. It’s really not my favorite.

Sambar

The wealthy cousin of rasam. Take the same spices you use for rasam, thicken it up a bit, add a few paltry vegetables-tomato, fibrous okra, maybe a few cubes of potato (which will probably consist of your entire vegetable intake) and cook the heck out of them. Its definitely not fine dining, but it does the job just fine.

Curd

Curd is my personal favorite, and entirely too scarce for my liking. Curd (you know what I mean right? Yogurt/sour cream/buttermilk) can seriously be put on anything. It is generally served with more onion than curd. It is a true testament to just how spicy the food is when I say that these onions doused in curd are more cooling than the balm of Gilead.

Parotta…………………………………………………………………………… 8 Rs. ($16)

This is a little ritzier than the normal fare. Just hie on over to any hotel (don’t ask me why India decided to adopt this English word to denote ‘restaurant’) and ask for parotta. You will not be disappointed. Like most Indian breads, this is made with the complicated mixture of flour, salt, and water. It is teased into a gluteny dough, then rolled into small balls. The small round of dough is then taken and beat against an oily surface until it resembles a long play dough snake. This is then placed in a swirl and rolled out into a thin circle. This circle is fried then (by the questionable looking hands of the cook) and when complete, beaten. It loosens up into the original spiral shape, perfect for tearing off flaky and oily pieces.

Poori…………………………………………………………………. 25-30 Rs. ($.50- .60)

(pronounced booty) This name is entirely too apt. Eaten often and you will develop your very own set of ‘booty’. Poori is served in a “set” of two. It is a dough rolled out into an impossibly thin circle, then deep fried at lightning speed. It turns into this huge puff ball of goodness. Served with goorma, a glorified sanbar filled with onions and potatoes and infinitely better. Save one poori to eat with sugar. You’ll have to request it (it’s called sacare in tamil).  The poori tastes similar to thin Indian (ahem… native American) fry bread. I’m pretty sure that poori sprinkled with the flavorful and large grained sugar favored here is the closest I’ll ever get to nirvana.

Expect to eat  As our Indian friend put it when we ate poori at her house, “we don’t count here”.

Laura and I have adopted this motto as our own. We recently ate dinner with two Brits we befriended in the forsaken town of Kanakumarai. At the close of the meal, we looked up into their faces to see something I hope was awe, but was probably closer to disgust. The redhead in her adorable posh accent asked “how do you eat so much and stay thin?” We countered, “we don’t eat that much…”. The empty plates spoke for themselves however. The smiley brunette chimed in, “You eat more than the boys”. Well, deprivation is not something we neither enjoy nor condone. Just don’t expect any hollow cheeks when I return.