Chatti Choru

follow The Mums and Aunts, gravitated towards the kitchen to help Aunt Kunjamma, Uncle Chandy’s wife, the eldest sister-in-law, the Nathoon, who was in charge of the kitchen and housekeeping. The sisters and sisters-in-law would have a great time laughing and crying together and the cooking would be laced with sessions of catching up, updates and ladles of advice on men and matters.

phrase de profil pour site de rencontre Meal times in my Uncle Chandy’s house saw us all eating in batches around a farmhouse table in the verandah. First, the little ones would be fed, the table would be cleared and then the next batch of little ones and so on till all the cousins would have been fed. The men folk would be fed and finally the women would sit down to a leisurely meal, certainly not before three in the after-noon. All the meals were cooked on wood fires in earthen pots that made them absolutely delicious, branding them as the smells and flavours of childhood. One heightened flavour that never leaves the recesses of the mind is the memory of the much-fought-over Chati-choru. 

sites de rencontres seniors gratuits There was always a small helping of Chatti-choru rationed out in the kitchen, on a first-come-first-served basis by my Aunt Kunjamma. If you looked up Chatti-choru in a Kerala recipe book you would never find it, though it is a universal favourite among all the kids.

club de rencontre pour célibataires à paris Normally when curries are made in a vessel, there is a fair amount of well fried masala and spices stuck at the bottom of the vessel that was soaked and scraped off before washing. This was an absolute waste of flavour. After the curry was spooned out into a serving dish, ingenious mothers would throw in a few fistfuls of cooked rice, curry leaves, salt and a dollop of ghee into the vessel. The rice would be fried with the left over masala, dishing up unforgettable, aromatic, fried rice, oozing zest and unbeatable flavour.

binär optionen dab We would have traded our birthright, as Esau did in the Bible, to get a mouthful of the Chatti-choru from my Aunt Kunjamma. The secret was to arrive at the kitchen door before someone else did. If you beat someone else to it, the Chatti Chor tasted even better, if that was possible. There is nothing in this world to compare in flavour to Chatti-choru. Especially if it is eaten leisurely in front of every envious eye in sight. Nya..nya..nya..nya..nya…..
Got here before you…..
Nya…nya..nya…nya…nya…… In Singapore, we had bread, butter, jam and eggs for breakfast every day . We had cooked breakfasts only on public holidays, Xmas, Easter and New Year. Even that had a predictable ring to it. On all the Public holidays in Singapore, my Mum used to buy Appams from the Appam Person, a transvestite, in Tekah Market. Those Appams were the softest, the fluffiest and the most wonderful Appams that I have ever tasted. My Mum used to serve them with mutton stew and we all thought we had died and gone to Heaven. In Kerala during the holidays, every breakfast was cooked. We had idlis, dhosais, poories, idiappam, appam and pootu, accompanied by an amazing variety of chutneys and curries. Bread appeared only when you were sick. No bread, no butter, no jam. It seemed as if I was floating permanently on Cloud No 9, in Heaven.

For lunch and dinner, we had unpolished red rice with all sorts of curries, pappdam and pickles. Teatime, was a great treat when we had pancakes, vadais, wattayappam, banana fritters, banana chips, rose cookie achappams and murukus to name a few of the goodies.

We played and appeared at the kitchen at meal times, ravenously hungry and blissfully unaware of the organisation, that went into the food that appeared on the table thanks to my Aunt Kunjamma, a lovely human being, who opened out her home and hearts to all of us making us feel an important and loving part of her family. She was selective in the use of possessive pronouns. I don’t think that she knew the pronoun …ende source url my or mine. Everything she talked about started with the generous pronoun….nammade….ours.

Our house,
Our food,
Our everything. 

As an only child, I found her warmth and hospitality, delightfully comforting. I loved her dearly, as she did me. Later when I was studying in College, I used to go and stay with her during my holidays. She was slowing down with age but she would take the extra effort of cooking all my favourites, especially my all time favourite Kappa and Meen , savoury tapioca and fish curry . There was always plenty on the table and some to take back to College.

My dear, sweet, generous Kunjamma Kochomma (RIP)…….Kodukulanji Ammachy.

4 thoughts on “Chatti Choru”

  1. Took me back to those days with Ammachi… Susiemama !!!

    Missing Ammachy … missing Kodukulanji … missing “Nammadae Veedu” …

    1. Dear Pramod,
      I know what you mean Pramod. Annie-mol, Nina and you grew up in Cadavanalthara with your Grandma, Kodukulanji Ammachy.She loved you all and she shared some of that love and the warmth of her home with us. She is remembered very fondly with an ocean of unforgetable memories. When we go back in time she plays a great part in the comfort zone of our hearts.

  2. Susie,
    This was delightful! Such an ode to childhood and the generosity of loving adults. And the food—made my mouth water.

    1. Hi Priya,
      So happy that it reminded you of your precious childhood days. Isn’t it funny it’s the smells and taste of the food that we grew up with that trigger the most memories?

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