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Tag: Kerala (page 1 of 1)

Big Feelings

O Kerala, I have Big Feelings for you.

But it is a complex situation. A lot of love, an equal measure of nervousness, a hefty dose of the imposter syndrome, a heart full of pride (misplaced?)… it is all in there.

Let me explain.

I am a born-n-bred Mumbaikar (or Bombayite, as we were called before the city’s name changed). I grew up in this heavily populated behemoth of a city, crazy and gorgeous and polluted and filthy and magnificent and majestic… It is easy to run out of adjectives when you talk about Bombay. The city is maddening and aggravating in all these ways but it only takes a quiet Sunday morning for me to fall in love again. And it leaves me breathless. And like many other Mumbaikars, I also feel that this city is still young, wild and raring to go. And I am the old one here. I, who always thought of myself as the young girl who grew up in Bombay, am now the middle-aged woman. And Bombay is only getting started with her youth and wild days and colorful nights.

Us Mumbai folks speak many languages. Most of us speak Hindi, or some version of it. Either the grammatically correct one (if your family hails from North India) or the Hinglish version (if you liberally mix English in), or a third kind (which has Marathi words thrown in). I am sure there exists a fourth type, and a fifth one too. To put it simply, we (or I) speak a smattering of languages. My apartment building had many families originally from Gujarat, so Gujarati is another language I have a fair understanding of. Then there is the matter of Marathi, spoken by so many of my friends… so yes, I can follow a good bit of Marathi too. Oh, I forgot about Tamil, another language I was exposed to in my childhood.

That leaves Malayalam, my native language, my mother tongue… It is the language spoken in Kerala, the southernmost state in India, known as “God’s own country,” where my family hails from.

As a child, I spoke Malayalam at home. I even learned to read and write it at school (for four years). We watched Malayalam films, visited Kerala every summer vacation, met up with extended family, cousins and friends regularly… All in all, I had a decent grasp of the language, and I was comfortable speaking it (albeit with some English thrown in).

But then it began to change. For one, I married a guy whose family came to Mumbai by way of Gujarat, and they spoke Gujarati. Of course, that proved to be an advantage for me because I follow Gujarati pretty well. But then, my connection to spoken Malayalam suffered. Next, I moved to the United States, and that did not help either.

Like every expatriate, I spent a few semi-frantic years trying to keep the connection alive. I hunted up favorite Malayalam films on Youtube. I got hold of Malayalam books so I could maintain my knowledge of the spoken word (that one remains intact till date). Despite massive apprehension and fear of looking/sounding foolish, I took (and continue to take) every opportunity to speak Malayalam with fellow speakers, even as I am nervous about using the correct tenses and phrases, etc.

All in all, I am unsure and lacking in confidence but I desperately yearn for improvement. I want to be the girl who switches between languages flawlessly. I want to be that effortless individual who can navigate languages and cultures with consummate ease.

The truth is that I am not that individual. I hope to attain that image someday but it isn’t my current reality. I will (forever?) be the girl who speaks/writes/expresses primarily in English.

And all of this may have been perfectly acceptable, if not for the fact that my heart beats loud and proud for Kerala. I take immense pride in the fact that I have roots there. I couldn’t count the many ways I adore God’s own country. Kerala’s sights and sounds, tastes and fragrances bring me home every time. My love for Kerala is probably irrational in many ways (and I think it may be the case with my father too, another hopeless romantic). It is based in nostalgia, family, sensory recollections, language. It is a bit of a strange affliction, not shared by my sister who had a similar upbringing. Is this notion all romantic, and more so, because I live abroad? Perhaps. But I am a romantic, just like Daddy, and that’s probably why both of us are crazily in love with Kerala.

I once wrote an old post where I quoted, “You can take the girl out of Kerala but you cannot take Kerala outta the girl.”

Leaving India has only made the Kerala-shaped corner of my heart beat louder.

As for Malayalam, I will continue my adventures. I may look/sound foolish but I am not lacking in sincerity.

Scrawled Keepsakes/Parippu Pradaman

As a child (or young adult), I never cooked. I didn’t know how to. I could rustle up a decent cup of instant coffee but that was it. Mummy tried her best to get me to help around the kitchen, perhaps learn to cook a few basic things. But I wasn’t remotely interested.

Mummy, smart and wise woman that she is, gave up on the obvious to-be-wasted effort. Her thought? You will learn to cook when you need to.

How right she was.

I arrived in the United States, a young and hopeful bride, hopelessly earnest and wondering/wandering. And I had to get cooking. So I learned quick on the job. Some blogger friends may recall old posts where I describe cooking moong dal, or what I thought was moong dal but ended up being masoor instead. I used to call P at work, asking him to “troubleshoot” difficult cooking situations. Ahhh, those were the days.

That was the time I began maintaining a notebook of recipes I got from my mother. And that’s how I got hold of the Parippu Pradaman recipe.

Parippu Pradaman

This is a traditional Kerala dessert, made from moong dal, jaggery and coconut milk. Yes, it is vegan. And it is ready in minutes, if you use canned coconut milk. You can fancify this dish with raisins and toasted cashew pieces, if you like.

I prefer the simple version, so here goes.

3/4 cup moong dal
1/2 cup jaggery
1 cup boiling water
2/3 cup canned coconut milk (preferably full-fat)
1/4 tsp powdered/crushed cardamom (optional)
1/4 tsp powdered dry ginger powder (optional)

Roast moong dal in a flat pan until lightly toasted. Let cool. Wash the dal with water, rinsing thoroughly.

Cook moong dal in a pressure cooker, or on the stovetop in a pan.

Using the back of a spoon (or a potato masher), mash the cooked dal to remove lumps and gain a uniform consistency.

Place jaggery in a pan. Add boiling water, mix evenly. Cook on medium-low heat until the jaggery melts into a syrup consistency.

Add moong dal to the jaggery syrup. Mix thoroughly.

Add coconut milk. Turn off the heat.

Sprinkle cardamom and/or ginger.

Serve warm or cold.

Add more (or less) coconut milk to get the desired consistency. Remember, coconut milk adds sweetness, so adjust the amount of jaggery accordingly.

Familiar Flavors at Cardamom Hill

Oh Cardamom Hill! So long since I have been meaning to walk in through your glass doors, make myself comfortable, order the Vegetarian Thali and tuck in… it finally happened last week.

Chef Asha Gomez’s latest offering, Cardamom Hill, situated in Atlanta, has been creating waves all around town and beyond. The fried chicken appears to be a hot favorite with locals, food critics and everyone else. The lunch menu changes daily and is updated on the restaurant’s Tumblr site. It generally features a couple of appetizers, a choice of vegetarian and non-vegetarian thali, dessert.

I walked in that afternoon and was pleasantly surprised to find a space so warm and elegant that one tends NOT to expect when it comes to Indian restaurants. Sorry to sound so judgmental but I strongly think that Indian restaurants lack a lot in terms of decor and service. Stringing together a bunch of colorful scarves, scattering maroon cushions all over, hanging Indian paintings on the wall – all these are but poor representations of Indian decor. It takes an artistic interior designer to truly understand the elements of Indian-themed decor and weave them into the restaurant’s ethos. Well, the rant above does not apply to Cardamom Hill. Take a look!

Interiors, Cardamom Hill

Dark coffee brown wooden tables, comfortable stuffed chairs, wooden floors, traditional (not overly so!) carvings serving as wall hangings… Very classy, understated and elegant. The decor says ‘Indian,’ nay almost whispers it into your ears unlike many other restaurants that shout ‘INDIAN!’ with their colorful pillows, Indian paintings serving as wall art, Bollywood music streaming through the speakers, etc.

I was determined to sample everything I could on the menu. So I asked for a plate of Bhajia, described as sweet potato and onion fritters served with tamarind sauce, priced at $7.

Bhajia – Sweet Potato and Onion Fritters

Very delicious. Spiced perfectly, not too garlicky or spicy, the texture was soft on the inside and crisp on the outside, fried to perfection… and it tasted so authentic! Alongside came a bowl of tamarind dipping sauce and this one didn’t come out of a bottle, I am sure. It tasted fresh and mild. A little salad of strawberries, paper-thin radish slices, cubed pineapple and herbs with a light cardamom-oil dressing was also served. A nice touch, I thought. The Bhajias came four a plate. I saved two to take home so P could sample them and give me his expert opinion.

Next up came the Vegetarian Thali. Priced at $13, it is a nice big plate of food that can easily suffice for two people, especially if you opt to share the Bhajias beforehand.

Vegetarian Thali at Cardamom Hill

The Thali contained,
Semolina upma with vegetables
Roasted Snake gourd and corn with cumin and chilli flakes
Red cabbage and persimmon slaw
Kootu (spinach and lentils simmered in Kerala spices)

Those are the listings from the restaurant’s Tumblr site. I wanted to avoid wheat, so I asked for rice instead of the upma. Alas, the server said that he had no rice that day. No rice at a Kerala cuisine restaurant? How odd. Well, so I had to get the upma. It was very well-cooked. Upma is a breeze to make, really. It is a common breakfast snack and each region in India probably has its own version of upma. Some people add turmeric while some others don’t, some folks will throw in loads of roasted peanuts and curry leaves while some others garnish with chopped cilantro. Tomato and shredded carrots may make an appearance. And so it goes. Semolina’s texture is not unlike that of couscous; it may very well be couscous by another name. The version at Cardamom Hill was mildly spiced, a good foil to the vegetables and kootu.

I have eaten snake gourd cooked with shredded coconut, mustard seeds, curry leaves. With corn? Never. It is a new twist on a familiar preparation. I can’t say that I liked it or disliked it. I wish the dish wasn’t bursting with corn, it felt a tad too much. The flavors were oh-so familiar, even if they were a shade milder than what a typical Kerala dish would feature.

Red cabbage and persimmon slaw is by no means a traditional Kerala dish! I doubt persimmon even grows in Kerala. That being said, it is a nice little side dish that added a tangy punch and freshness to the meal. The slaw was spiced with lemon juice, chopped cilantro and salt.

I always thought that kootu referred to a coconut gravy curry and so, the spinach kootu at Cardamom Hill threw me off. This version was essentially a lentil dish (chana dal, I think) with spinach leaves and a tempering of mustard, turmeric and curry leaves. Maybe this is how kootu is prepared in the Malabar region (that’s where the chef Asha Gomez hails from). It was lightly flavored, perfect in quantity. Chana dal can get rather heavy, so the little bowl was the perfect size.

Not a bad spread at all… as I said, the flavors were milder, the combinations were interesting and unique, the service was lovely, great interiors. And I skipped dessert this time, so a second visit with the husband is definitely in order!

Cardamom Hill
1700 Northside Dr
Atlanta GA 30318

www.cardamomhill.net
404-549-7012