Cooking the Kerala Way: Kerala and More Part 1

25-Feb-2024

Our Return to Kochi and a Jet-Lagged Cooking Lesson

Getting There (The Cooking Comes Later)

We flew from Birmingham to Dubai on a full Emirates A380 – I find it mind-boggling that every day 500+ people want to travel from the English Midlands to Dubai, but there we all were. Our flight connected with another Emirates flight to Kochi (still known as Cochin in the aviation world) in Kerala on the west coast of India.

26-Feb-2024

We left Birmingham on schedule and reached Kochi on time, but the small hours of the morning (UAE time) introduced some unwelcome excitement. Congestion in Dubai led to an hour flying in circles over the Persian Gulf followed by a dash across the airport, the second busiest in the world and consequently vast. A train eventually deposited us at the appropriate terminal; where we found the departure gate empty except for the one member of the ground crew waiting just for us. Emirates would not leave us behind, but we were surprised and relieved that our suitcases also made the flight.

India

Kerala

Foreign visitors to India are fingerprinted and photographed. Our experience at Kochi was a warning about what might happen when a similar EU system is introduced. The queue was not long, the French group in front of us numbered less than two dozen, but clearing them took well over an hour. The fingerprint machines are fussy, many boxes of tissues were used wiping screens and fingers and still multiple attempts were needed each for set of prints – and they want three from each person - left hand, right hand and thumbs. As previous visitors our fingerprints were already on file, we were quickly through, but we had still had to wait in the same queue. The EU keep putting off introducing their scheme, if an Indian regional airport spends more than an hour processing a couple of dozen, European holiday destinations would be overwhelmed, and they know this.

Kochi, in India's south west corner

Into Kochi

Once through the formalities we quickly found the representative of the ever-reliable Pioneer Holidays - the Kochi-based company we discovered on our first Indian trip and have used ever since - and he introduced us to Sasi who would be our driver for the next 16 days.

The City of Kochi has a population of 680,000 and is the centre of a metropolitan district of 2.1 million, making it the biggest conurbation in Kerala. It is not the state capital, that is Thiruvananthapuram (we visited 2016), which has more letters but fewer inhabitants.

The airport is north-east of the city, some 35-40 Km from the Fort Kochi district where we would be staying. This was our third visit to Kochi, so we were prepared for this short journey to take 90 minutes. It mattered not, the morning was still fresh, and we had little chance of checking-in at our accommodation before midday.

Since our last visit in 2106, Kochi had acquired a metro system. Like those we have used in Delhi and Bangkok, it is above the road, not under the ground.

Under the Kochi Metro

Sasi battled with the traffic through Ernakulam and over Willingdon Island – built in the 1930s from the sediment dredged up when the British Royal Navy enlarged the docks...

Kochi

…and into the smaller, quieter streets of Fort Kochi where most tourists hang out.

Quieter roads, Kochi

Whether streets are busy or quiet, Indian traffic moves with its own bewildering logic which I gave up trying to fathom several thousand kilometres ago. A bemused Frenchman once suggested it must be easier for me, as India, like the UK, drives on the left. I think it was a joke. I have confidently driven the length and breadth of France and several other European countries but I do not drive in India; I happily sat beside Sasi, and previously Thomas Joseph, Thomas Matthew, Umed Singh and Laxman, all professionals with long experience of Indian conditions.

The Tea Bungalow

Sasi deposited us at the Tea Bungalow.

The Tea Bungalow and 'our' car

‘Bungalow’ was derived by the British from Bangla (meaning ‘of Bengal’) to describe the typical Bengali single-story dwellings with a wide veranda. They adopted the style for housing administrators in the British Raj, who then took the term home.

Bungalows are common in the UK. They have lost the veranda – it does not suit our climate – and the word now refers to a small, single-story building standing on its own plot. Bungalows are favoured by the elderly as they have no pesky stairs. Our next move, in a year or two, will be to a bungalow closer to our daughter – because that is what old people do.

The Tea Bungalow clearly does not fall within this definition of ‘bungalow,’ but having invented the word, British English kindly donated it to Indian English. The Indian usage keeps the idea of a house on its own plot, remembers it was an administrator’s house, and thus sizeable, but has forgotten that it was single-storey. An Indian bungalow is suitable for conversion into a Guest House, a British Bungalow is not.

Tea bungalow veranda

Built in 1912 for coir exporters United Carpets, and bought from them in 1965 by Brooke Bond Tea, The Tea Bungalow was named by its current owners, the Dempo family from Goa who have diversified into hospitality after three centuries exporting coconuts.

Tea Bungalow breakfast room

We were greeted by several members of the Pioneer staff, including Adrian a smartly dressed young man (I have now reached an age when everyone - except the Pope - looks young) to whom I have spoken on many occasions, but never met. One of his jobs is to phone round clients every two or three days to check that all is well. It is probably in my head, but he always sounds mildly disappointed when, yet again, we have no problem for him to solve.

The staff at The Tea Bungalow were slightly less welcoming and made us wait right up to 12.00 clock before checking us in. After being up all night, what we really wanted was sleep – and at 12.05 …zzzz.

ATM Difficulties

India is a cash economy, so we needed cash. The government though wishes more transactions to go through banks and thus be transparent to the tax authorities. To this end they de-monetised the 500 and 1,000 rupee notes (worth roughly £5 and £10) in November 2016. Holders of the notes were given a brief window to exchange them for new ₹500 and ₹2,000 notes. [They held a competition in 2010 to design a rupee sign and ₹ won. I wonder what the losers could have looked like.] Remarkably 99.3% of the 15.3 trillion rupees de-monetised were exchanged, meaning the whole disruptive, stressful and expensive business was a waste of time – and part of the missing 0.7% resides in my foreign currency box upstairs.

The old 500 rupee note - now just a piece of dirty paper

The ₹2,000 note, we discovered, was not a good idea either, I do not know if Prime Minister Modi (himself a Gujarati) has ever wandered round rural Gujarat trying to buy something with a ₹2,000 note – nobody has change for such a massive sum of money. But now the unloved 2,000 has disappeared making ₹500 the biggest note – Indian paper money stops where British paper money starts. This may have achieved the original intention; the need to carry suitcases full of banknotes is a strong disincentive to making large cash payments.

The new, smaller 500 rupees - this can still but a cheap meal

After several hours sleep we turned our attention to money. Our attempts at withdrawing ₹10,000 were unsuccessful – perhaps not too disappointing as the ATMS offered only 100 or 200 notes. 1 accidently persuaded one to part with ₹200, but the situation needed dealing with.

Jeanett’s Cooking – At Last

Sasi arrived at the appointed time to take us to our cooking lesson. We told him our problem and failed at the first ATM he stopped at, but succeeded at the second. He then explained the new (at least to us) government regulation at the root of our difficulties. No ATM may give out more than 40 banknotes. Most ATMs only have 100s or 200s so their maximum is ₹4,000 or ₹8,000. For ₹10,000 or ₹20,000 we needed an ATMs with 500s.

Sasi drove us south down Kochi’s peninsula to the home of Jeanett (erroneously 'Jeanette' in Tripadvisor and similar sites) and Oscar Fernandes where we were warmly welcomed into their front room. Jeanett is a retired teacher (as are we) who set up a post-retirement business giving cookery demonstrations to tourists, though with just two of us it would be more hands-on.

Do you like okra? She asked. We suggested- as she had anticipated - that it was not our favourite food. 'Too slimy?’ We nodded. ‘It does not have to be’ she said opening a large hatch to reveal her kitchen, and daughter Tania with a bowl of carefully wiped non-slimy okra.

Tania and a bowl of Okra

Unfortunately, sliminess is not my only okra problem. In 1987 during our brief residence in Sudan, I cooked okra and fed it to family and friends. Nobody like it much. The next day I was struck by the worst food-poisoning I have ever endured, wiping me out for over a week. The okra was not at fault, but the two events had come together in my head. It was time to face my fears.

Fortunately, I have no problem with coconut oil, Kerala is a bad place for those who do.

Coconut oil

Tania heated up the oil and added the non-slimy okra.

The okra goes into the oil

There are onions and shallots, spices, curry leaves and chillies to be added yet…

More ingredients

…. but for the moment the okra pauses here.

The okra can rest now

While Jeanett takes over with a fish curry. With it long coast line, Kerala is the sort of place where people eat fish. Some of their fish are familiar, others are not known in Atlantic waters and have no English name, but I suspect this is Kingfish.

Jeanett starts a fish curry

It was time for Lynne to earn her keep, and she was put to work crushing shallots…

Lynne crushes shallots

…and putting them in hot oil.

Shallots into hot oil

Jeanett adds some a garlic and ginger paste.

In goes the garlic and ginger

We also had to go through the ritual discussion about how many chillies to add. Tradition demands the local host tries to bargain the number down, as they do not want to burn your delicate western palate, or upset your delicate western stomach. I always try to argue them up, because neither Lynne nor I are particularly delicate. Your host, of course, doubts that you really understand the level of spiciness they are talking about. Eventually we agreed on the usual number of chillies, but with the seeds removed from the red ones. It is not polite to argue too hard with your hosts – and of course, if you do overdo it, you look a fool,

Spices and curry leaves find their way in

Finally, the coconut milk and fish are added, and the curry can be left to bubble.

That's got all the ingredients together

To finish the okra it was necessary to call in an expert.

A master at work

I have already got the curry leaves in – they are more important in Kerala than elsewhere – and now it is time to add whatever is in that little pot, …

I think we need some of this

…. and then reintroduce the okra.

Finished now

We had made our contribution; the hatch was replaced and Jeanett and Tania went about finishing off the dishes and adding a few more. Oscar, who previously had nothing to do, offered us some of his home-made ginger ‘wine’ and talked to us. The non-alcoholic wine was a remarkably professional product with a good gingery kick and Oscar seemed unlikely to run out of anecdotes however long the finishing touches took.

At some point the son of the house returned from work. He retired to change out of his suit and as soon as he was ready, dinner was served.

Dinner is served, rice, fish curry, beans, okra and something else

We had not eaten since arriving in Indian ten hours ago and I was ready for it. The fish curry was very good – though it would have been fine to leave in the chilli seeds, but the prawns – actually spicier – were truly memorable, a subtle combination of spices and seafood. And the okra? Yes, I would eat it again, indeed I would choose to eat it again, but I would not cook it myself, I would leave that to a professional like Jeanett.

And an excellent dinner it was

Well fed, happy and feeling just a little sleepy though it was hardly 8 o’clock, we took our leave of our hosts. Sasi reappeared exactly when required – as good drivers have a knack of doing – and we returned to the Tea Bungalow.

And Finally

This is our third trip to Kochi, for more regular tourist stuff see Kochi: A Second Visit (2016)

Kerala and More

Part 1: Cooking the Kerala Way
Part 2: Kochi: Not Really a Free Day
Part 3: Kozhikode (Formerly Calicut)

and much more to come