Spiced Yogurt (Morum Vellam)

When we traveled to India as a family, we landed in Cochin during the summer monsoon season. Torrential rains soaked the ground, and although black umbrellas were pulled out to protect us, our chappals were often engulfed in a wave of water. At night, lightening blazed across the sky as if competing with the candles that were lit when the electricity went out. Thunder erupted with the force of what felt like 1,000 tons of TNT, occasionally jolting me out of sleep.

The heavy rains were accompanied by highs of 90 degrees and oppressive humidity. At the time, no one had air-conditioning, and the muggy air, which moistened the back of my neck and lower back, was circulated around the room by high-powered ceiling fans.
 

No matter where we went, piping hot tea was offered to ward off the heavy-handed heat. It was combined with whole milk and a very generous quantity of sugar. Sari shops and jewelry stores handed it out in a ceramic mugs mid-way through a sale. Snack vendors poured the scalding drink from one steel cup to another to produce a froth before serving it to customers who they had beckoned with their rhythmic call. "Chai, chai, chai, chai!!!”

 

At some point, I’d start to complain about having to drink so much tea as it never seemed to quench my thirst and, worse yet, forced me to frequent the bathroom. In response, my parents would buy me a bottle of Thums Up or Campa Cola from a snack stand en route to a relative’s house. They would also stop the car for tender coconuts that had been harvested and scalped with a sharp machete for their fresh, rejuvenating water. Afterwards, my parents would eagerly scoop out the tender flesh, which giggled like a soft boiled egg. At the time, I thought they were crazy.

When I complained to my aunts about having to drink so much tea, they would make me a glass of sweetened lime juice or morum vellam (spiced yogurt). Both drinks were perfect for battling Kerala’s tropical heat. 

SPICED BUTTERMILK (MORUM VELLAM)

Serves 2 to 4

Morum Vellam is a comforting drink any time of year. If you’re sensitive to heat, I suggest removing the seeds and ribs from the serrano pepper before adding it in.

INGREDIENTS

1 cup organic low-fat yogurt
2 cups water
10 curry leaves
1/4 cup finely chopped shallot or red onion
1 tablespoon roughly chopped ginger
1 small serrano pepper, sliced lengthwise - hot
3/4 teaspoon salt

INSTRUCTIONS

Crush the onions and ginger using a mortar and pestle.

Put the yogurt and water in a blender. Blend them together until fully incorporated. Pour into a pitcher. 

Add the curry leaves, ginger, pepper, and salt. Stir together. 

Chill for 4 to 6 hours. 

Strain liquid to remove curry leaves, ginger, and pepper.

Cooking with Curry Leaves

My dad (pictured first in the second row) grew up with thirteen siblings: Daisy Maria, Esther, Jolly, Stephen, Rachel, Clara, Elias, Joey, James, John, David, Samson, and Starling. Nine of them followed him to the states beginning in the sixties. When I was a child, our extended family got together at least once a year for a christening. Everyone ate and slept in the same house. My uncles, who are a boisterous bunch, kept the booze flowing. They pulled pranks on anyone they could catch off guard and told outlandish tales that grew taller and taller with each drink. My aunts made sure we were all well-fed. Squeezed in the kitchen, they boiled rice, ground spices, and shared stories of family back home.

These days, we get together for weddings and to baptize the next generation. Thankfully, the laughter, jesting and general mayhem have continued alongside my aunts’ marvelous home cooked meals: idli (steamed buns) and sambar (vegetable stew), cuppa (cassava) and red fish curry, spicy chicken and stir-fried cabbage. Everything is flavored with kariveppila or fresh curry leaves. 

Turmeric may add a golden glow and cardamom an alluring aroma, but curry leaves are Kerala's most common flavor booster. Tossed in almost all Malayalee dishes, they have the flavor of peppercorns crossed with bell peppers and freshly cut grass. The only ingredient that makes it to the table more often is rice. With a tree growing in nearly every yard, curry leaves are sautéed in oil, floated in beef stew, and mixed into lentil fritters before they are fried. 

In Chicago and other major urban centers, fresh curry leaves are often sold in the produce section of Indian grocery stores. Select leaves that smell strong and have smooth edges. Avoid brittle leaves - a sure sign that they are sapped of flavor. Curry leaves thrive in warm climates. My Uncle Joey and my Uncle Jimmy who live in Florida faithfully bring huge bunches of curry leaves to our family reunions. On the last day of every get together, they are divided in a come-one-come-all sort of fashion. I’ve nearly been trampled trying to claim my share. If you fall for them too and bask in a warm climate, why not plant a small tree in the yard.

Curry leaves are best used fresh. To preserve your loot, dry the leaves and fold them in a paper towel.  Place them in an air tight bag (or container) and store them in the refrigerator for about 2 weeks.

Uppumavu

MOM'S UPPUMAVU
(COPYRIGHT 2012)

This is one of my favorite South Indian breakfast dishes. Imagine a moist, robustly seasoned couscous dish. Traditionally, each serving is topped with banana slices or a fried egg.

INGREDIENTS

Serves 4

1 1/2 cups semolina or 2 1/2 minute Cream of Wheat1 1/2 tablespoons canola oil
1/3 teaspoon black or brown mustard seeds
2 tablespoons urad dhal, skinned and split
1 cup finely diced onions
Half a small jalapeno, seeded and quartered
3/4 tablespoon minced ginger
20 curry leaves
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
3 cups of water

 
INSTRUCTIONS

Put the semolina (or Cream of Wheat) in a skillet over medium low heat. Dry roast, stirring frequently to ensure even cooking. Remove from the heat when it becomes a shade darker, about 10 minutes.

Heat the oil in a large saucepan on medium heat. Add the mustard seeds. Cook until they begin to pop. Add the urad dhal. Cook until it becomes honey brown.

Add the onions, jalapeno, ginger, and curry leaves. Cook until the onions become totally translucent. (This is very important step as the texture of the onions should be very soft in the final dish.)

Add the water and salt. Stir. Bring to a boil. Cook for 2 minutes.

Remove from the heat. Slowly pour in the semolina, stirring constantly. (Note: It will spit and sputter!)

Cover and set aside for at least 5 minutes to allow the semolina to soften completely.

Serve with bananas or top each serving with a fried egg. Uppamavu can also be eaten with small side of hot pickle.