The Left hand Side of the Banana Leaf
The banana leaf, functional is so many ways, offers a tropically green, biodegradable plate for many a local lunch in South India. Traditionally, a whole leaf would taper at the end, and guests would sit to the left of the pointed end. At the end of the meal, guests fold the banana leaf inwards to thank their host for their hospitality. In Trivandrum, Kerala, I recall leaves being sectioned into long rectangles, food often arriving by way of a stainless steel pail. My main aim was to keep the rice and curries below the first bend in the fingers of the right hand. As you might imagine, it took practice eating without utensils and a lot of long looks from my fellow diners. After one long research trip, I could taste the metal in the forks and teaspoons at home when I came back.
Kerala is a sea-facing state. Blessed with both the Western Ghats that reach north/south the length of Kerala, and access to the Indian Ocean, the rainfall is plentiful and creates a micro-climate. The double monsoon and lots of sunshine means certain plants flourish here, and these plants have deep roots in the economic success of the Malabar Kingdoms. Pepper. Nutmeg. Cinnamon. Historical records show that these have been vital points of trade since the sixteen hundreds, the archaeological evidence of trade much longer. Idli and sambar, a ubiquitous rice-based breakfast with a pepper rasam to dip the idli into, may point to historic relationships with the Hindu rulers of Indonesia. With trade comes wealth, ideas, culture, and Kerala has an intriguing mix of cultures and identities within her borders.
The South of India has coconuts, ginger, turmeric, curry leaves, rice, mustard seeds, cloves, cardamom, limes, chillies, fish - the natural raw ingredients to create dishes that taste different even within North and South Kerala, and definitely different to curry houses around the world. With trade comes contact, and the various populations that have settled and stayed have left their tastes and interests in the culinary lexicon. Jews, Syrian Christian, Muslims, the Dutch, Portuguese, French, Arabs. The food of Kerala is diverse and delicious. The food tradition extends into hospitality, and religion, and festivals. It is all intertwined. Temple traditions, festivals such as Onam, women sharing kitchen and food traditions across generations. Food is the physical manifestation of identity and culture.
Some communities are vegetarian, some meat-eaters. Both have twists within these, where some communities might only eat certain types of meat, or be non-veg apart from important holy days. Even within vegetarian communities there are those who follow stricter adherence to religious rules about types of food and spice. Across India, Ayurvedic practices the hot:cold distinction are followed, where certain foods are considered heating and others cooling to the body. Religious and cultural imaginations are fed by food, influenced in turn by deeply-held Ayurvedic principles, and connect complex issues such as caste purity and spiritual hierarchies.
Dishes that are considered typically Keralan have regional distinctions. The northern region of Kerala known as Malabar has a distinct influence over its culinary map. The spice garden of Kerala was a magnet for the Arabs and the Europeans, who came to trade the precious spices out to the Mediterranean, Europe and beyond. Evidence of early Arabs have been found in the archaeology, and they traded, stayed, married locally and created communities. These include the Mappilas, with food traditions that were non-veg and more spiced than those of southern Kerala. Dishes such as kallummakkay fry or fried mussels, is typically sauteed with ginger and garlic, turmeric, chilli and a homemade garam masala with fennel, cinnamon, cloves and cardamom, the heat turned up or down by the amount of red chilli powder.
Constantinople closed its doors of trade to Europe in 1453 when Turkey captured this vital sea port and halted spices from South Indian territories to European markets. In turn, this precipitated the arrival of Vasco de Gama in 1498, along with the chilli, guava, breadfruit, cashew nut and Alphonso mango from the New world (if various sources are accurate).
If the chilli arrived in 1498, what were the coastal Arabs in Malabar spicily heating their mussels with before this? The dish is also known as pepper mussels so that might be the answer.
Or not.
For the record, Cochin was already on the global radar as a trading hub before the Portuguese decided to make it a protectorate in the 1500s. It had a community of Syriac Christinanity reaching back to AD 52, a community of Jewish traders with synagogues from the early 14th century, and as we know, a long-standing involvement with Arabs trading from the Gulf, just up the way in seafaring terms. The Dutch East India Company finally won the day in 1604 after 160 years of Portuguese control, and in turn the British East India Company expelled the Dutch in 1741 to avoid the French taking control, as much as anything. Imagine if the French had arrived in Kerala in the way they spent time in Pondicherry, over by Madras. There would have been kallummakkay fry in baguettes, rice crepes flamed with coconut toddy. Creme brulee with jaggery and cardamom. I could go on.
Food evolves.
While the food of North Kerala had centuries of Arab tastebuds, the food of Southern Kerala has Syrian-Christian influences, also impacted by the Portuguese, Jewish, Dutch and British who traded and settled in the region. While both north and south communities eat beef, (not eaten by Hindu communities), dishes such as mappas, stews, molees and appams are eaten in traditional Syrian Christians households. Appams have fermented rice batter and coconut milk, and are believed to be an iteration of egg and flour pancakes of the west. The Portuguese loved a thick soup, and the thickening agent in Kerala based on the local resources became coconut rather than cornflour. The traditional red wine and garlic of the Iberian Peninsular were used to preserve meat on voyages. Locals in southern Kerala used vinegar with marinated spices to replicate the original preservation flavours, which live on in vindaloo dishes.
Christianity is alive and well in Kerala.
Over the Western Ghats and into Tamil Nadu, the rain shadow is long and the region is dryer and more dependent on irrigation. This is the land of hot hot chillies and intense flavours. Chettinad is a classic example of the relationship between trade and food, and part of the forthcoming trip I’m running will focus on Chettinad cookery traditions. I’m coming back to this as a subject.
In my passion for finding good food I am not interested in digging deeper into the age-old fault lines that allow food to separate communities. I am interested in the geographical and historical links of food, and the celebration of the subtle, regional variations found from state to state. I like the idea that the gut has a brain of its own, creating links from taste, smell, touch, sound and digestion that creates its own cultural biome. I might think too much about what I’m going to eat for my next meal. The food traditions of a region need not become historical obsessions. It is interesting and engaging to eat and think about these roots rather than lay down a specific path, to consider the evolution of a dish through time and the current deliciousness of the contents of our plates. I subscribe to enjoying the current dish, with a good nod to its roots.
My forthcoming trip to Kerala and Tamil Nadu in Jan/Feb 2025 will be a delicious insight into the food and culture of the region, leaning into regional dishes and giving us the opportunity to learn more about this fascinating area of South India. Let me know if you are keen.
