ON AN ‘IYER’ LEVEL

MY EARLIEST MEMORY OF food is sitting before a banana leaf, carefully counting the dishes as they were served. I remember there were more than 15, each placed before me in a precise sequence—beginning with a spoonful of payasam, followed by a mound of rice, paruppu (plain dal) with generous dollops of ghee.

- DEEPA SURYANARAYAN

But this was just the preview. Soon after, thoran, kaalan, olan, avial, sambhar, rasam, payasam, vadai, neiappam, pappadam and more would arrive in style, just like the honoured guests at a sadya. Not only did every dish have its place in the order of serving, but each also had its designated spot on the leaf.

My next memory, however, is less tender—a sharp slap on my wrist when I instinctively reached out to eat with my left hand. My mother would remind me that the right hand was the only proper, auspicious one for food.

Eating off a banana leaf was an art in itself. The rasam would try to run off the leaf, as would the payasam. The trick was to swiftly chase the rasam with a handful of rice and finish it with a slurp before it wandered off the edge of the banana leaf.

It was only after I moved to Mumbai, with its vada pav, pav bhaji, and endless varieties of paneer dishes and naans, that I began to look back with longing. I realised that my roots lay in a land of rich culinary heritage, and those roots gave me a unique, unmistakable identity.

THE ORIGIN STORY

I belong to a distinct community—Palakkad Iyers. Ours is a close-knit world, where history, tradition, heritage, cultural practices have been preserved and passed down mostly through word of mouth.