How far would you go for breakfast?

Athira Gopal

How far would you go for breakfast?

Travel to the quiet peaceful village of Ramassery and you’ll find yourself among food enthusiasts from around the country to try their famous soft, fluffy Ramassery idli. Let's dig deep to find the secrets that lie beneath this unique dish.

How far would you go for breakfast?

I hate Idli and this is coming from a south Indian. No kidding, we really think of it as our unofficial state dish. One dreadful Wednesday I was given the choice between online class and exploring a new place. For a moment I almost thought about staying in and having my class as podcast for my unhappening life. The shrivelled up traveller in me somehow won the internal battle.

Damn, how did I think waking up at 5 am is better than my 9:30 am class? Anyway, we were going to meet up with her few friends and then off to Palakkad. I typically think of this district in Kerala for its natural beauty. Vast areas of paddy fields, mountains, streams, forest it got it all. But we were specifically going to Ramassery, a village 8km from Palakkad town.

This place was different, it was like someone protected it from the busy urban jungle outside. They had those pretty fences made out of red hibiscus plants and narrow brown paths. Straight out of an MT’s(M. T. Vasudevan Nair is a script writer and director of Malayalam films )novels.

First stop was breakfast and the place wasn’t that crowded or we were really early. Also, you should know I strongly protested against going there, a place that specialises in Idli? The idliphobiac (they should add that in the urban dictionary) in me panicked. Amma promised me bread and butter if the idli really scares me. Oh, and I saw the looks her friends were giving me. I told you hating idli is a crime here.

Wanting to learn more about the origin we asked the lady who owned the tea stall about it. Apparently, a majority of the people in Ramassery are weavers from Kanjipuram, when they couldn't make ends meet with their profession they shifted to selling these idlis along the paddy fields. In turn, they received grains and this went on.

Chittoori amma is credited with the invention of this dish but it’s hard to find out if it originated in Ramassery or was it brought from Kanchipuram, a place known for its wide varieties of Idlis. The recipe is passed on from generations and they made it quite clear that if I wanted to try those idlis again Ramassery was the only place.

From that day onwards I accepted pancake Idlis as an exception to my Idli-phobia.

Since we were really early on a weekday the rush hour hadn’t started so they said we could see how they made the Idlis there. Straight at the back of the restaurant was this kitchen with multiple earthen stoves on the ground. There were also gas stoves and steaming on top were pure white Idlis. I’ve seen my fair share of Idlis just being in the south and let me tell you, this was different. Normally Idlis look like a round disc, this was more of a cross between an idli and dosa. Also idlis are steamed in moulds specifically made for them over water.

There were pots with water boiling and on top of these were sieves made by local potters with a cotton thread tied up to make it look like a sieve. On top of this sieve, a wet cloth is placed and it is on this cloth that the batter is poured. Multiple such layers are made which is then covered by a steel top to let it fully cook. The batter is made from rice and black dal that is ground together and left to ferment for up to 8 hours.

Outside the kitchen, a lady was grinding a fresh mix of green chillies to make the chammandi(a sort of chutney). This pancake Idli confused me, I've heard about 99 varieties of dosa but combining two south Indian breakfasts to make a super breakfast dish? That was new. So with remorse in my heart, I tried the Idli. It was surprisingly soft and fluffy. Something so familiar but yet so different. They also had this special chammanthi podi which they suggested we mix with coconut oil.