To the land of spices we go...

Namaste from Munnar, Kerala India…Our days have grown to a vivid shade of green, our spirits to a staggering height of nirvana, and our overall love for India to a point of utter lust. 

Where we last left you was on the peninsula of Fort Cochin in the final days of our departure, where we’ve now come is somewhere I can’t hardly begin to explain. Though being it as its grandeur has much to do with our new found Indian father Ansel, I suppose it best to begin in sharing with you all just how much a part of their family we’ve truly become.  Our final days with them were spent not only visiting their closest family members but also being visited by them, all the while gaining the love of two grandmothers and a couple more nieces, Neena and Roussale.  In this time our dinners grew ever more special, with at least two types of fish being served along side a couple of vegetable dishes and the always available parboiled rich so essential to the Keralan meal. I hadn’t quite realized just how generous Geigi and Ansel had been with our servings of fish until I saw how they served the other guests.  While we received enough for a least three people, the others received hardly enough for one, and were asked to pay extra for more.  Ansel confessed to us that in all his time as a homestay host, about the last 5 years, he has never once had guests like us.  This was a wonderful thing to hear especially after having realized just how awful many European travelers can be.  It is gravely unfortunate what many an Indian has to put up with for the sake of their livelihood.  Ian, on more then one occasion, found his fists clenched at the crude offenses of our fellow tourists.  We thank you mom and dad for teaching us humility and compassion.  With it we’ve managed to bring happiness and hope to beautiful people half-way across the globe, and you can’t imagine how absolutely fulfilling it feels. 

On our last night with the Sanay family I conducted my first Eating Vedas research interview with Ansel and Geigi.  We discussed celebratory occasion like weddings and birthdays, baby showers and festivals, funerals and holidays, and what their relation to particular dishes and/or food items was traditionally and contemporarily in the state of Kerala, more specifically in the central region near their home city of Cochin.  What I gathered will give my previous research findings a whole lot of flavor and spice. But one bit of information in particular, that I found perfectly telling of the ways in which India’s vast contextual richness is explained and carried on generation after generation was this story about the festival of Onam, or the festival of peace. The story goes that once there was a king who ruled the whole of Kerala.  Such a fine and compassionate king was he that no one man or woman ever craved for want of more, for whatever they asked they received from their generous and all-loving king.  Because no want filled the hearts or minds of the citizens, the gods above began to fear that praise and devotion to them would soon fleet from all who were ruled under this king.  And so the gods devised a plan to test the king’s devotion to his people.  The goddess shiva cast herself upon the earth disguised as a sheepish peasant man, and requested of the king a piece of land spanning the length of three strides. The king, taken aback by such a humble request, urged the peasant to request more, the peasant meekly refused and the king respectfully granted him his wish.  Soon the man began to grow and grow until neither his head nor knees were in sight.  His first stride covered the whole of the earth, his second the expanse of the heavens, and his third, upon the request of the king who had now realized this was no ordinary villager, atop the head of the king himself.  The king was vanquished to the underworld and given one wish.  His single bid was to be able to visit his people and ensure that their happiness had flourished at least once a year, this annual visit is now the reason behind the festival of Onam. 

Stories in India have the ability to reveal an idea, a thought, a belief, about a people, a place, a reality, kept intact for so long that you can’t help but question why histories are told in any other way.  One of my favorite writers, Jean Jacques Rousseau, once wrote “the human understanding is greatly indebted to the passions, which, on their side, are likewise universally allowed to be greatly indebted to the human understanding. It is by the activity of our passions, that our reason improves: we covet knowledge merely because we covet enjoyment, and it is impossible to conceive why a man exempt from fears and desires should take the trouble to reason.”  For the people in India their stories kept in explanation of their traditions are not held because fact has imprinted them somewhere in a book, but rather because their passions in keeping them alive outweigh their curiosity to forget them, themselves and their people in the midst of new logic. The story of Onam originally came from Hindusim but every Muslim, Jain, and Christian can recite it.  There is something to be said about such a thing, as simple as a story that can manage to unite a people in identity, no matter how far they’ve diverged from what they once were.  Throughout my interview I was reminded of this as Ansel danced his way through explanations of the Keralan past and present. It has by far been my most insightful encounter yet.

Our departure from MaryAnns was in the early morning and warmed by Geigis delicious black tea and hugs.  Our driver was an interesting fellow who had stories for just about anything you had a question for.  He had been a cab driver for the last 20 odd years and had been all throughout India.  His knowledge of everything from the rubber tree to the Mathoot (elephant trainer) was captivating and informative.  Our long journey was intertwined with spans of his voice informing us of curiosities found on the windy sides of the road we traveled. Once out of the main city we found ourselves stopped and walking into a lush landscape, with thick braided vines crawling up trees, man made walls fallen to the efforts of the elements, and roads turned to mud, I knew we had come into a place far different from that of the well developed city of cochin.  Our trek led us down through a narrowly shaded passageway leading to a large pool of misty water. Alas, we’d made it to the elephants bathing pools that by now had become lined with tourists taking pictures and feeding the elephants with goodies from their bags.  Never having felt these creatures at such close a range I was overwhelmed with giddiness to hug and pet the baby elephants. These massive creatures, with skin as thick and tight as a cargo trucks tires, were becoming overwhelmed with the amount of attention, so soon after their bath, that the mathoots were constantly having to shout in their ears and whip them to behave.  Our driver informed me that they could not feel the mathoots wimpy whip, and that his efforts to discipline were just like those of a father to his child.  We petted the elephants as much as we could and soon were on our way back to the car, this time in search of food.  Saaji, our driver, took us into what appeared to be nothing more then a home.  We were seated across from an attractive young Swedish couple with two adorable little girls, and fed family style with chickpea dhal, appam, coconut chutney, rice flour patties, and bowls of deliciously cut up bananas and pineapples.  It was a light and energetic meal filled with good conversation. 

We met back up with Saaji and again continued on our way to Munnar. A quick stop at a small wildlife zoo and a waterfall showed us just how dense the wild life in this area truly was. Going to the restroom stop built near the waterfall we had our fist encounter with a band of monkeys, socializing atop the roof of the bathroom stalls.  It was amazing to see how numerous and curious they were, with expressions on their face that let us know we were the intruders, and should best be on our way as we had disrupted their morning back tick-picking session. Our final stop along the way left us at a 22 acre spice garden that could have captured even the most complex of chef’s imagination.  A small serious faced Indian man acted as our guide and led us through the fragrant dirt roads that lined the rows of various spice trees, plants, shrubs, and roots.  In a mere 20 minutes spent with this man I gained a bag full of information pertaining to the medicinal and culinary properties of these spices.  I hope to return with my notebook and recorder in hand to acquire as much as possible from as many of these knowledgeable caretakers as I can.  These spice gardens are going be a goldmine of information for my Eating Vedas research.

After a four hour car drive, chock full of excitement and sights, we reached our homestay in Munnar.  Had I taken my judgment from the one way dirt road that led to our homestay I might have thought we were staying in a hut, but much to my surprise our luscious abode proved to be anything but humble, by any standard.  Ansel had hooked it up with what seemed like nothing less then a luxury room, complete with a full sized bed, balcony overlooking the lush landscape, hot water, clothing rack, and a TV.  I felt like a queen and Ian my king living in what could be donned one of the most beautiful places on earth.  Though the room was quoted at over 1200 Rps. a night Ansel made sure we paid no more then 750 Rps.  This is a place to call home, which is why we’ve decided to spend at least a month here to acquire all there is to know about the spices that make this city literally “The Land of Spices.” 

Tea plantations and spice gardens line the hills and mountains that surround the small villages erected within Munnar. And their products are all too apparent when you reach the center of town where tea stalls and spice shops line the roads, selling all and any kind of spice/tea your heart could desire. I may have very well found my little piece of heaven on earth here in Munnar, for anyone who knows me knows that these two treats are two of my most favorite culinary commodities.  Rest assured, I will be returning home with enough to share for all who share with me this same obsession.

The few days we’ve spent here have been fast in coming and going, which I guess is a good indication of how much we are truly enjoying it.  Just a couple days past we ventured out on a trek the opposite way of town to see what lie ahead.  In what seemed no time at all, hours had dissipated and night had come upon us without warning.  The climate is so comfortable, at an average 67 degrees that trekking a ways takes no apparent effort on your bodies temperature or thirst. It is such a change from Cochin, where even a fans constant wind can’t relieve you of your body’s sticky moisture and your throats constant itch for cool water. Yesterday we spent much of our time in town, perusing the shops at leisure in search of a bookstore.  I suppose I am all too impatient on unwrapping the knowledge contained within the spices surrounding me, and much to my dismay no bookstores were to be found.  I’ll go back to my internet research in the mean time, to suffice my appetite until I can set up another trip into the spice gardens.  As we walked and stopped for undomberri (not sure on the spelling), a treat Ansel had introduced us to on a visit to his brothers, I was thrilled to find it laced with fresh bananas instead of just sweetened wheat flour.  Essentially like a plain donut hole, these fried tasty delights are served only around 9am and 3 pm, just in time for all the school children who devour them by the dozens on their way to and from school.  I can’t wait to get my fill on another this afternoon. 

Continuously we came upon interesting handicrafts, and bake shops serving mouth watering concoctions that I can hardly keep myself from trying all at once.  As we entered the lane of textiles and tailors we noticed a portable electric stovetop.  This was a great find for us as we had just that morning discussed possibly getting a small gas stove, to heat our morning tea and our left over food from dining out.  Because it gets so cold at night, even Ian who doesn’t mind cold food, found our leftovers to be inedible.  Especially when in the waking hours of the day the cool air has you craving for comfort in anything warm. We shopped around for the cheapest stovetop we could find and happily walked home discussing the now infinite culinary possibilities at our fingertips.  Neither of us is especially keen on eating out day after day, and although it has only been a few days since we left the comforting kitchen of Geigi and her home cooked meals, we had already grown weary of eating out three meals a day.  When hunger stuck around 6:30pm we hurriedly headed back to town to get vegetables and spices for a simple vegetable and rice soup.  Most of the vendors had closed up shop for the day so we gathered what we could and headed happily back home with a bag of vegetables (potatoes, carrots, onion, garlic, lemons, and chilly peppers), ½ lb of rice, 3 eggs, sunflower oil, and a bag of salt and pepper, all for less then $3.  Though in need of a bit more flavoring the soup was warming and satisfying and left us full bellied as we drifted off to sleep. 

Today I will be researching some Keralan dishes to cook for dinner in the days to come.  We will still eat out for research purposes, but probably no more then an occasional snack, which in Ian’s case always consists of at least two dishes, accompanying my side of veggies.  I truly miss cooking, as I haven’t had the time to give it my all for quite a while what with all my studying and working back home.  My classes with Geigi sparked up a huge craving in me to start again on my cooking experimentation, and I am overwhelmed with joy to start again here with spices and veggies galore for me to play with.  I will be posting some recipes of my own very soon, so stay hungry and curious.  Noon time has come and my eagerness to hit up the open market has consumed me.  Stall after stall of vegetables, baskets and bags filled with grains, colorful wagons displaying the catches of the day, are all that I have to look forward to when I head to market, not to mention the butchering of live chickens for any and all of your poultry delights.  I don’t know if I have the stomach to witness this, but based off Ian’s account of the taste of chicken here, I know I will sometime in the month have to gather up enough courage and get one for a kari chicken dish Geigi cooked up for Ian one lazy afternoon last week. 

I suppose I’ll leave this post here and will let you know, very soon, how my research and dishes have come along.  Namaste.