Home Cooking in Tamil Nadu: Part II

Each morning, as we were sipping our hot, sweet coffee, (see previous post) we would familiarize ourselves with our surroundings and acclimate ourselves to our environment by reading the newspaper. Fortunately, The Hindu is in English. A peculiar sort of English, which I long to describe properly but cannot. Having spent several months in a different former British Colony (Ireland) it is extremely interesting to observe the quality of the mother tongue (Tamil, Irish) seep through into my familiar language.

The Irish language has no use for double plurals: "I have three eggs" and apparently no "th" sound, which explains a modern Irish man ordering breakfast: "I'll have tree egg."

The newspaper was a great source of entertainment to us, especially the police blotter:

Murder in [x] Prison

"...the fight broke out after the guard denied the prisoner his request for an additional portion of sambar."

An additional portion! I'd like an additional portion of that kind of journalistic hilarity. This leads me back where we belong, which is at breakfast. We might call it brunch, the largest meal of the day eaten around 11am.

First exciting thing! You eat with your hands! Second exciting thing! There is a beautiful lack of both turmeric and cumin powder. (The full seed is traditionally used.) This means that my cuticles were not dyed yellow nor did my hands smell like the backseat of a 1983 Ford Escort.

Note: the rice is hot! Watch out. As I am something of a slob and usually cook things which reside on a tortilla, I am used to eating with my hands. That is not the same thing as being good at it. Everyone had their little method; cupping one's hand to get the most soup, small bites, big bites... you get the hang of it.

I say: why not add another sensory element to the elemental art of eating?

So, you sprinkle some ghee (clarified butter) over your rice and blend it in. If there is coconut chutney, it can also be mashed into the rice. One morning we had fried okra, another morning a very familiar fried potato, nearly like home fries but with plenty of chili powder. Another day, a pepper soup: I mean peppercorn, and the soup was black. Sound the alarms!

Sambar, the most elemental veg and lentil soup, was tangy, spicy, and acidic. Pls reference the photograph below for a different dish, kootu at 6 o'clock. [CORRECTION: previously I tried to claim yellow substance was sambar. See comments section for full explanation.]

Counter-clockwise we have curd rice; rice in homemade yogurt, some sauteed onions and cabbage, seventeen alarm mango chutney, coconut chutney, and last but definitely not least, the idli: a fermented rice cake. Gluten-free? Hello, lover.


What you do not see featured on my plate, which I unabashedly photographed like a Japanese tourist, is rasam. This soup was unlike anything I have ever tasted - how fantastic to have such a unique culinary experience in this global era! Heavy on the tamarind, asafoetida (!) and mystery, it was more than I could handle.

I tried several ways to politely express this: "Maybe I'll have some later, at dinner!" until I gave up and admitted that I didn't like it. My Indian audience reacted well - actually, they were pleased. Ha! Finally something the American doesn't like to eat.

It is considered comfort food, maybe like chicken soup, or buttered toast; I'll give it another try, next time.

Stand by, friends and eaters! More to come!