Capital grain: We're paying more than we realise, for rice

TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING?

- Mridula Ramesh

A 19th-century depiction of a bazaar in Bengal.

One of the great joys of writing is reading, and of all the books I've read, few remain as memorable as the Mahabharata.

In it lies the remarkable tale of a king who has lost everything — his wife, his kingdom and his identity — but not his skill. Disguised as a servant, Nala becomes such a masterful cook and charioteer that another king asks him to share his knowledge of the art and science of cooking.

Nala’s reply forms one of India’s earliest cookbooks: Paka Darpanam (literally, Mirror / Reflections on Cooking). This philosophical and practical book includes verses on how to cook rice and how not to. Nala warns against eight defects, including overboiling, burning, and using stale or out-of-season rice.

To cook the grain well, he says, choose unpounded, dry rice; wash it in hot water and immerse it in three times as much water, letting it come to the boil while stirring constantly. Sprinkle milk, buttermilk or water on top, take it briefly off the fire, then bring it to the boil again until the grains turn soft. The result, he promises, is nourishing and promotes longevity.

Rice is woven into diets across India and celebrated in every festival, whether as rice beer during the Wangala feast of the Garos of Meghalaya or boiled with jaggery and milk in pongal and offered to the sun god as thanks for a bountiful harvest.

On a more regular basis, south Indians once drank neeragaram, a traditional beverage made from leftover rice fermented in water, valued for its gut-friendliness.