a cookery lesson in kerala
A view of the tea plantations of Munnar, Kerala
The high point of a recent, brilliant family holiday in South India was a joyful and informative three-hour cookery lesson with Nimi Sunilkumar. After a walk around Munnar’s stunning tea plantations on the slopes of the Western Ghats mountains – carefully avoiding the path of some disconcerted elephants – we headed for Nimi’s wonderful, homely kitchen in the nearby town.
The group – myself and six members of my family – all gathered around the island, complete with a gas hob, in the middle of the room. Nimi began the lesson by telling us we were in land of coconuts (‘kera’ means coconut and ‘la’ means land), where coconuts are central to the cooking. She then went on to explain the various virtues of ghee (made by clarifying unsalted butter) versus coconut oil: ghee has a higher smoke point and is very good for snacks, desserts, dosai, biriani and dal, but is not commonly used in curries because it is too rich and tends to separate.
Our wonderful host and teacher, Nimi Sunilkumar
Nimi moved on to survey a range of spices typically used in Keralan cooking. She explained that she always grinds her own, and that most whole spices will keep for between two and three years. She discussed cinnamon bark (also known as cassia, it should snap in the hand), white poppy seeds, nutmeg (which, when bought in its shell will last for 15 years, and yields mace too), green cardamom (always used with its husk intact), fennel seeds, cumin seeds (only used whole), star anise, fenugreek seeds (the leaves are used in northern India but only the seeds in Kerala), cloves, black mustard seeds (these must be ‘popped’ in hot oil to release the yellow insides), asafoetida (a pungent resin that takes the wind out of lentils and is good for digestion, lasts for ever and gives South Indian sambaar its distinctive flavour), dried tamarind (Nimi dries it herself), Kashmiri chillies (much milder than other chillies), curry leaves (used throughout India, as fresh as possible – don’t use the dried ones, which are almost flavourless) and finally kokam, which was unfamiliar to me (also known as garcinia or Malabar tamarind, it is a fruit that is dried and smoked, very typically Keralan, lasts for ever and is a key ingredient with seafood). To make her garam masala, Nimi grinds together roasted dried hot chillies, cardamom, cloves, white poppy seeds, mace, star anise, fennel seeds and cinnamon bark – with an emphasis on the clove, cinnamon and fennel. Nimi explained that spices should always work as a team – one should never dominate another – and that curries are always best made in advance, perhaps the day before, so that the spices can infuse for longer.
Gathered round the stove with Nimi
Next, we got down to cooking. We made beettoottu pachadi (beetroot in coconut milk), kappa kuzhachathu (mashed cassava root) and meen mulagittathu (spicy fish curry). Nimi told us that whilst it is possible to use any fish in the curry, or even prawns, sea fish is best. She used a firm-fleshed fish, similar to tuna or swordfish. We were shown how to remove the two layers of skin on the cassava root, and its stringy centre. The skin of ginger was scraped off with a teaspoon, and the flesh chopped very, very finely. We prepared the beetroot in the same way – with one chef exclaiming, ‘If we go on like this for another two hours we’ll get subatomic particles!’ Little 18-month-old Frida, carried in a backpack by her father, my eldest son Sam, leant forwards, beady-eyed, watching us meticulously chopping. (Sam, who is a cameraman, took the pictures shown here, as well the photos for my book.)
Afterwards, we sat down together to eat everything we had cooked – the food was absolutely delicious – before saying our thanks and goodbyes to Nimi.
Beetroot pachadi, topped with a tarka of mustard and fenugreek seeds, curry leaves and dried red chillies
