Arriving in Chennai as a chef from north India was
like opening a spice box of surprises. Tamil cuisine
is about rhythm, balance, and a deep connection
to everyday life. Each part of the day has its own
culinary identity, and traditional eats associated with that
hour. This is true for most parts of India, but here, even in a
metro like Chennai, a certain continuum of tradition is still
maintained in homes and establishments all across.
The day begins with tiffin — a word that defines
mornings. Idlis, crisp dosas, and ghee-laced Pongal— their
aromas fill the streets, the craft behind these simple staples is
fascinating. How do you arrive at perfectly soft and spongy
idli? A function of batter, the proportion of grains, and the
right amount of fermentation overnight in the humid Chennai
air? The sambar too changes character across regions even in
Tamil Nadu— mildly sweet in Thanjavur, fiery in Madurai,
and tangy along the coast. But it is the mid day mess lunches
that are the soul of Tamil cuisine. Served on banana leaves, a
saapadu (meal) captures the philosophy of nourishment and
variety: Rice at the center, flanked by sambaar, rasam, kootu,
poriyal, curd, and a sharp pickle. Add your choice of meat
and fish to complete the meal.
My exploration also led me to some lesser known
regional ingredients. Among these, Manathakkali Keerai (black nightshade greens) used in many different gravies
deserves a spotlight. Found in backyards of homes, and
village markets across the state, this humble green is prized
for its gentle bitterness. The tender leaves have a mild,
earthy subtle minerality. The plant also bears small black
berries (manathakkali vathal, when sun-dried), which carry
a concentrated tang and a slightly smoky, umami notes
when cooked.
Together, the leaves and berries bring complexity to
everyday Tamil dishes — balancing spice, tang, and richness.
For a kuzhambu, the dried berries are simmered in a tangy
tamarind base. The bitterness of the vathal cuts through the
sourness. As a stir fry in poriyal, the fresh greens are sautéed
with mustard seeds, urad dal, garlic, and grated coconut.
And there is even a vathal kulambu and rasam: The dried
berries are sometimes roasted and added to a tamarind rasam
or thick kulambu gravies, providing bursts of bitterness and
chew that elevate the texture and taste.
Another lesser known and interesting ingredient is
Karisalankanni (false daisy greens) prized for its earthy
aroma. Then, there are Kattuyanam and Mappillai Samba
heritage rice varieties. Discovering these ingredients
and the way in which they are used has been a journey
back to the essence of cooking —where technique meets
intuition. Today, many regional chefs are rediscovering
ingredients like manathakkali keerai in new formats —
from vathal rasam espuma to keerai thoran croquettes and
greens-infused millet risotto. Its inherent bitterness adds
the sophistication of contemporary dishes. I have been
experimenting in similar ways.
But ingredients and craft aside, it is the social aspect of
eating together that is so alive at Chennai’s streets that is both
fascinating and beloved. As the dusk settles, Chennai turns
to its most beloved ritual — filter Kapi and snacks. The city’s
stalls serving vadai, bonda, bhajji, murukku, all bustle with
activity and a sense of community. Strangers share tables and
for a chef this is a reminder that great food isn’t just technique
— it’s connection.
