Excellent ethnic fare

For those interested in authentic Tamilian cooking, vegetarian and non-vegetarian, this book serves as an excellent introduction, says RUTHN. DAVIDAR.

ANOTHER book on regional cooking. Three cheers! I am always very pleased when more grandmothers' recipes see the light of day. Sabita Radhakrishna has done well to highlight non-Brahmin cooking, putting together in Aharam the traditional recipes of the Mudaliar, Chettiar and Vellala communities of Tamil Nadu. She has also taken great trouble to provide serving suggestions. This is crucial because even if you are interested in this sort of cooking, you may not know what best complements a particular dish. Additionally, to give the book a Tamil feel, traditional kolams enliven every page. Nice touch that. However, these and the other drawings in the book are accredited to Ravi Gopalkrishnan in one place, and to Ram Gopalakrishnan elsewhere. Siamese twins?

Every time I review a cookbook, I usually cook from it to ascertain if the recipes work. This time round, a gift of a heap of field beans or mochakottai (not to be confused with broad beans or avarakkai which are similar in appearance), just about decided what I should cook. Field beans, a favourite of the Mudaliars, are not easy to come by, so it had to be a mochakka recipe even though I knew I'd almost lose my fingernails in the process of shelling the beans. Among us Tamils, it is considered highly complimentary if someone steps into your home and remarks, "nalla samaiyal vasanai." I had barely commenced the preparation of the Mudaliar speciality pachai masala kari kurma or green mutton curry, when my father walked into the kitchen and said, as if on cue, "Nice aroma already."

Since the cooking of Chettinad is all the rage now in restaurants serving south Indian fare, I gave Kozhi uppu varuval or Chettinad chicken fry a shot as well. The verdict: if you are looking for authentic Mudaliar and Chettiar cuisine, then this is the book to buy.

However, like most good cooks, Radhakrishna assumes that everyone knows his or her way about the kitchen. This could get the beginner into quite a fix. Her recipes call for ginger-garlic paste, (agreed, it is now available as a commercial product), but how is it prepared at home? I got it right because I know what it takes to stand over a cooking pot. And the tamarind I use does not take two hours to yield its pulp. Soaking it in hot water for ten minutes does the trick. Additionally, following Radhakrishna's suggestions to extract thick and thin coconut milk could leave you in tears or slamming the kitchen counter in frustration.

Similarly, Radhakrishna believes that anyone can tackle a pressure-cooker. So we are faced with instructions like "Pressure cook both dals..." Fortunately, these lapses are few, though, by and large, her instructions are uncomplicated.

"Cookbook is one word," thundered Khorshed Ezekiel in a spirited piece on how to write one. May I add, so is peppercorn. Cookbook writers should first standardise terminology and instructions before putting pen to paper. For example, the gadget used to process foods is called a mixer, not the more familiar colloquialism "mixie." Anything less is unacceptable.

Also, Radhakrishna freely interchanges the terms seasoning and tempering. Before I explain, I hasten to add that you won't go wrong with the recipes if you can't tell the difference between the two. But I think a clarification is relevant. To season means to adjust the flavour of the dish by the addition of salt, pepper or other herbs and condiments. Season is also used to indicate that the surface of a pan or griddle (tawa) is well coated with oil so that food does not stick to it during cooking. Another word for seasoning a pan is proving.

Tempering is quite another feature, and is typical of Indian cooking. Small amounts of mustard seeds, black gram dhal, red chillies, curry leaves and the like are added to a little hot oil during the preparation of many Indian dishes. This practice not only adds flavour, but has a number of inherent nutritional benefits as well.

Not surprisingly, even though she is a qualified sociologist, Radhakrishna cannot resist a shot at some nutrition advice. Her calorie chart "given to help the calorie conscious to work out a sensible diet," is accurate if a little too sparse. You either go the whole hog or not at all. Being picky about what food or dishes to include says too little to make much sense.

The book also has some good photographs. Sadly, the sketches meant to portray what the photographs represent do not always match up. So, thayir vadais are called carrot pachidi, for instance. Further, the labelling of the photographs should be more genuine. You just cannot pass of cumin and coriander seeds for lentils. Pictures don't lie!

Most intriguing of all is the mysterious "s" that first makes its appearance in the chapter on non-vegetarian curries and fries. From then on, it pops up every now and again, in the special menu section, and even in the calories chart where "s"...6 (50 gm) provides 175 calories. As a true-born Tamil, I fail to crack this one. Could this be a secret family code that the author cannot divulge?

All in all, this book can help you steer through the intricacies of authentic Tamil cuisine. But let it not be your first time in the kitchen.

Aharam: The Best of Traditional Cuisine of Tamil Nadu, Sabita Radhakrishna, Zaika (BPI), p.309, Rs. 295.

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