This Winter, Rē is offering a mini Soup Series, where we are sharing some of our favorite soup recipes.... and a story to go with them Soup'n'Story Time! Soup means so many things. Warmth. Comfort. Hope. Leftovers and freshness and community. Recovery from being sick or a meal for a potluck. The perfect food for regeneration! And it is so delicious!
Please do feel free to share with us one of yours!
This week, our community member Ram who is from Tamil Nadu, in southern India, is sharing stories about rasam, which is a vital soup-like dish in southern Indian cuisine. This is a story about diversity within food traditions, from a culture where every household has a strong sense of its own recipes, and where there is always much discussion about every aspect of the preparation of a particular kind of food. Most of the ingredients mentioned have layers of meaning attached to them
From Ram:
The culture I come from does not have “soup” in the same sense as the Western understanding of soup. We make soups that go with the rice or roti (bread) that we eat.
With wheat roti (bread), the soup is lentil-based and is called the Dhal. Dhal itself is complicated and varies from place to place across India. From the mudda pappu, in Andhra Pradesh, which is a thick dish to the watery dhal in other parts, there are multiple variations. And in the rice-eating communities (which I come from), the tradition of mixing dhal with rice, and other soups varies from region to region.
In my state, often there are 5 broad categories of such soup mixed with rice - sambar which is similar to dhal but with more vegetables and spices, rasam, closest to being called a clear soup in consistency, several types of stew, called Avial and many other names, karakuzhambu which is a thick tamarind spicy saucy soup, and lastly the yogurt based morkuzhambu. Each of these has several variations in every region with fish-based, meat-based recipes in some parts, to vegetable-based ones in other parts. Some of them vary with season as well. Culturally every community in each region has integrated whatever they grow in the region. This makes a very diverse recipe bouquet throughout our regions.
Now let me take the soupy rasam and for a single household like ours as an example. We are a vegetarian household with 5 members from 3 generations living together. All 5 can cook and often do. We have about 5 recipes for rasam that are seasonally changing in the household apart from an occasional exotic one. The regulars are - tomato rasam, lemon rasam, Milagu (black pepper) rasam and Poondu (garlic) rasam. There is a winter variation of the milagu rasam that is the 5th variety. Among the exotic is the veppambu (neem flower) rasam, apart from others. This is made with dried neem flower with sweeet bitterness and boosts immunity. There are several such exotic ones which have specific herbs and greens with medicinal properties as well. During the recent organic farmer’s conference, the farmers gave me mudakkathan keerai rasam on the dais as I was speaking (this specific green addresses arthritis).
Now coming to the recipe itself - a rasam is primarily made of tamarind water as a base (though in the case of lemon rasam, tamarind is replaced by lemon), with turmeric, chili, pulses, fried and powdered and added to it, along with boiled lentils water, salt, and chopped tomatoes. All of these are brought to boil and then the tadka goes it. The tadka, or seasoning, consists of mustard seeds, cumin, curry leaves, in some cases red dried chili, and asafoetida powder, all fried together mildly in ghee or oil. Often these are garnished with chopped cilantro or Kothamiri pieces.
If this sounds complicated, it is just the beginning. Each household has its own variation of the recipe and how it is cooked.
First, the vessel in such the rasam is made. My Mom’s place uses a lead-based alloy vessel that’s traditionally used and lends a unique flavor (no it does not have heavy metal problems). There are other households that make it in terracotta as well. But most currently use steel utensils. The iyachembu or lead utensil is a prized possession in many kitchens, often the old ones are exchanged for new ones in exclusive traditional artisanal shops. My uncles from Hyderabad bring their old vessels with them when they come here to go to the traditional parts of the old town on an expedition to exchange these old vessels for new ones.
Second comes the rasam (spice) powder. The spices that go into the rasam are like friends. They are ground together as a powder and stored for ease of usage in each household. What goes into the powder is a unique household recipe that differs in each house. Mom for instance dries, fries, and grinds together, turmeric, dry red chillies, dhaniya, toor dhal, chana dhal, cumin, and pepper. This powder is typically made and stored for several months in boxes to be added as a spoonful or more depending upon the quantity of rasam being prepared. My mother in law has a variation of this, their household does not add black pepper nor the dhal into this powder, these ingredients are independently added during the boiling of rasam in their household. So, we have three variations of these powders in my house right now, all prepared by different recipe standards at home. There are also regional variations. For instance in southern Tamil Nadu, we always add garlic to all the rasam, and it tends to be high in chili. Whereas the rather famous Mysuru rasam from the neighboring state of Karnataka has the habit of adding a bit of jaggery (brown sugar) to the rasam that lends it a sweet taste.
Unfortunately, all of this is a dwindling knowledge, as an increasingly clueless and timeless younger generation buys the rasam powder from shops that have a standardized recipe. These standardizations are killing the diversity and, along with that, also family histories.
The preparation of the rasam also has many variations. My Mom never adds green chilies to the rasam when it is boiling in the pot, while others do. Apart from tomatoes (which one cannot add for the pepper rasam) no other vegetables get added (except greens and herbs sometimes) to the rasam. Rasam remains like a clear soup and is never thick, though a popular marriage/wedding variation is the pineapple rasam which has small diced pieces of pineapple in the rasam which lends a sweet flavor. Then there are people like myself who believe in adding a lot of cilantro to flavor the rasam; others think it is not necessary.
The tadka or seasoning can be added before the boiling or afterward as well. Whichever way you do it changes the taste. Tadka also can be done using different oils or ghee. Some regionally-specific rasams have specific oils for the tadka. We are used to Mom’s recipe of the seasoning being done using ghee always. We prefer to add it towards the end. In my school days, during the busy hours of the morning when Mom used to prepare for office and we all used to get ready to go to school, she would often do the tadka ahead and leave the rasam to boil.
That brings me to the most crucial part of the rasam cooking process – how much does the soup need to boil?
Through observation, trial, and error, each person learns the perfect moment when the rasam is about to boil over and then turns off the heat. This in itself is a unique skill that is acquired by prolonged practice, which supports an understanding of the ingredients and their need for time to achieve the perfect alchemy of taste that ensures a great soup!!
- ram
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