Tastes and flavours

A group of pale-faced tourists sit alone in the air-conditioned chill of a hotel restaurant. They are faced with what is termed a multi-cuisine menu. This means that the chef has a large freezer and a vague idea about  Fish and Chips, Spaghetti Bolognaise, Cheesburger and Fries, Paella, French Onion Soup, Chicken Chow Main and  Moussaka. He has never tasted any of these in its authentic version, but he has a colour photograph and reheating instructions. Back at home, his mother is not entirely familiar with the Roman alphabet, but can knock up a stunning Biryani without thinking about it, and at the same time she will knead, roll and cook a dozen or so light and delicate chapattis without a second thought, while she is listening to the grandchildren’s homework.

I first came to India in 1970, on an extended, belated honeymoon after my employer in Khartoum was nationalised in a government coup, and we expatriates were shipped home. I bought some travellers’ cheques with some of my pay-off and followed the ‘Hippy Trail’ to the East. The career could go on hold for a few months. 

When I reflect on my C.V. it is quite possible that my career just stayed there.

Coach travel in Afghanistan - 1970

In India back then, I saw change happening, just as I had seen it in Africa. We came over the Khyber Pass from Kabul in Afghanistan to Peshawar in Pakistan, seeing history carved in mountainside memorials with the crests and battle-records of the British and Imperial Indian regiments who had fought many a battle with Afghan tribal forces over a couple of centuries. 

In Peshawar, we stayed at a very old hotel and were shown the table d’hôte dinner menu. It had not changed much since Queen Victoria, with Soup, Curry, Fish, Poultry, Meat, Sweet and Savoury. These were not alternatives but, in the fine tradition of Mrs Beeton, were sequential courses. When we returned through Peshawar a month later, new management had introduced the now infamous multi-cuisine à la carte menu.

Tripes a la mode de Caen - unctuous and full of flavour

People are funny about food. Most people trust only what they know, and are frightened of experimentation. I confess I am the opposite. On holiday in the 70s, we were touring Normandy by car and arrived in Caen at lunch-time. My eyes lit up to see the famous local delicacy on the menu: Tripes a la mode de Caen. I had never tasted tripe, and I needed to overcome the initial repulsion when the steaming dish was placed before me. I tackled it with a spoon and it was utterly delicious. It is essentially a bowl of a meaty stew in  a rich gravy, served with a basket of fresh-baked crusty bread. 

What more could an Englishman ask for?

But on this trip today, I am a vegetarian. That’s partly because both Mattindia and the Ashram are ‘pure veg.’ and partly because it’s both more adventurous and less risky in these foreign parts when the local cuisine is predominantly meat-free. 

Masala Dhosa - a hot, wafer-thin crispy crunch 

The menu is in English, and here are the words you will recognise: Onion, Garlic, Tomato, Cashew, Chilli, Tea, Coffee, Ice-Cream. 

If you are coming from UK. you've a head start on the mainland Europeans, who stare  bemused  at Poppadum, Chapati, Lassi, Tandoori, and so on. Still, you’ll probably stumble at Dhosa, Iddly and various other Kerala specialities. 

You might find a waiter who can offer an explanation beyond “very tasty” and “quite spicy,” but the only real answer is to give it the Caen treatment and dive in head-first.

The Dhosa is at the heart of Kerala cuisine. It is essentially a pancake, and somes in many forms, from the paper-thin Masala Dhosa that usually around two foot in diameter, and arrives with a filling of spicy mixed vegetables. Smaller dhosas are made from a fermented batter and come with dipping sauces.

Most restaurants serve fresh lime sodas, seasoned with salt rather than sugar (Wow! What a great innovation that is!)

If you feel extravagant, a little tub of pistachio ice-cream will cool the palate and set you back 20p.

Apart from my regrettable forray to tandoori chicken one evening in Madurai, I never spent more than £2 on a meal. This is gourmet tourism on the cheap.