Ammamma's Chutney - That Travelled With Me, Stayed With My Amma
You know a recipe is special when it tiptoes into your mom’s kitchen, and then proudly takes centre stage as her signature dish. Ammamma’s Chutney, as lovingly named by my kids, is just that—a humble tomato-onion-coconut chutney I tried out during my college days that now has a legacy of its own in our home.
This isn’t your traditional chutney—it’s my own take on the classic Tamil-style kara chutney, reimagined with a generous scoop of grated coconut, a hint of tamarind, and a handful of fresh herbs for that extra hug of comfort. It’s authentically Tamil at heart, but with a whisper of Malayalee influence—because honestly, how can a Malayalee make chutney without sneaking in some coconut? The result? Something uniquely mine, stirred with memory, spice, and a little cultural mischief.
"Amma's Palakkadan Meen Puli: A Taste of Kerala's Culinary Heritage"
Culinary Exploration After Marriage - Adapting to New Tastes and Traditions
Getting married is undoubtedly a sudden exposure to new things: food, culture, lifestyle. This is universal across gender, communities, and regions. It also means a lot of effort to get acquainted with and start loving the host of new things in life. It’s not that one does all of it spontaneously, nor are you forced into it. With time, you get used to it, some you learn to brush away with a smile, and some you adapt to with a smile. Getting to love new food and new tastes is always an uphill task. A dish that you never had in life might be a favourite in your in-law’s house. Either your mother-in-law cooks it with pride or tries to teach you with precision. That is how heirloom recipes are preserved and passed on. Humans are by nature flexible and adaptable, and often we begin recreating such dishes that were once new to our taste buds with minor changes to suit tastes.
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In the cosy kitchen of our modest home, a small room bursting with the aroma of spices and love, my mom orchestrated culinary magic. Our house, though compact, was the setting of countless memories and anecdotes from my childhood. It was a humble two-room haven where the drawing room seamlessly transformed into a dining room at mealtimes, a study when we pored over our books, and welcomed guests with open arms, only to become our bedroom as night fell. This versatile space, though limited in square footage, was boundless in warmth and memories, playing a pivotal role in our lives.
Unakka Manthal Varuthathu – Dried Sole Fish Fry
Few dishes bring as much nostalgia to my plate as Unakka Manthal Varuthathu—a crispy, flavour-packed Dried Sole Fish Fry. More than just a dish, this is a journey down memory lane. Every trip to Palakkad is incomplete without bringing back a pack of Unakka Nangu or Unakka Manthal, making it an inseparable part of my travel memories.
A Nostalgic Bite
My love for dried fish goes back further than I can remember. It has been one of my absolute favourites since childhood. Holidays at my mother’s home meant a visit to the Kongad Chanda—a bustling shandy market in Kongad, open only on Mondays. My grandfather would carry a big vatti (basket) to the market and return with loads of groceries, fresh vegetables, and, without fail, two special items—A pack of dried fish wrapped in newspaper, securely tied with jute rope. A few Ari Murukku, tied like a garland, ready to be devoured.
The moment he returned, we kids were treated to crunchy Murukkus, while my grandmother got busy frying Unakka Nangu. A crispy piece of Unakka Manthal with steaming rice? Heaven!
