For the uninitiated thayir sadam is a South Indian’s vision of mannah or ambrosia – the food of the Gods. In English it would be curd rice. What!!??!! you may ask with raised eyebrows and shocked expressions, qualifies this basic, relatively tasteless dish to aspire to such lofty heights. The answer in writ in its simplicity – it evokes memories of home….
My earliest childhood memories stem with visions of my grandma trying to get me to eat something white… not quite dry, nor too gravyish… soft and chewy.. it was love at first bite! It went well with everything – all the curries n sambhars and other delicacies south Indians revel in – thayir sadam…
Through school and college this was my staple… set curd and boiled rice – a soothing combination which you can spice up with pickles, add chilies and ginger to; my personal favorite is naarthangaai – which loosely translated means rinds of fruit dried and salted – a tangy and salty companion to my thayir sadam…
Throughout my childhood holidays when cousins came over or we went visiting; it was often the custom in the afternoon for the lady of the house to round up all the miscreants.. seat them in a semi-circle.. and then take the largest vessel in the house and mix thayir sadam with all the remaining rice left over from breakfast! Then all of us would cup our hands to receive a fistful of curd rice; then came the strategic “kuzhi-panniko” which meant digging a well in the palmful of curd rice using your thumb without spilling – which was quite a task; especially if you’re visiting.. cause the ladies are very very generous and have bigger hands… next would come the accompaniment – sambhar or spicy vettha kuzhambu or aviyal or kootu… some gravied dish… each of us would in turn be served the accompaniment depending on the size of the “kuzhi” we made and scramble to get the concoction into our mouths before something spilt or started dribbling down our arms while trying to swallow a mouth full of too much curd rice and laughing at the efforts of others… sometimes I wonder if the ladies of the house entertained this practice solely as a diversion… seven or eight kids all struggling and smeared in white smudges of curd rice… but in the hot summer heat, sitting cross legged on the cool mosaic floor, and spilling away to glory!!!
Whether it was fever or an upset stomach; curd rice was the universal panacea. Sometimes fed, sometimes scooped and sometimes spilt; curd rice is at the heart and core of most childhood memories. Is it any wonder then, that every time I wander afar from home, in far flung and remote locations, when the thought of home ravages my mind, I always crave for thayir sadam – it evokes memories of motherly fussing, teasing cousins, school lunchtimes where the tiffin gets flicked and the lot hand back the dabba saying ‘eugh! Thayir sadam’, candlelight dinners fuelled by power cuts where nothing could be cooked except rice, fuzzy memories of heart and home somewhere far away… give me my thayir sadam any day!!!
My earliest childhood memories stem with visions of my grandma trying to get me to eat something white… not quite dry, nor too gravyish… soft and chewy.. it was love at first bite! It went well with everything – all the curries n sambhars and other delicacies south Indians revel in – thayir sadam…
Through school and college this was my staple… set curd and boiled rice – a soothing combination which you can spice up with pickles, add chilies and ginger to; my personal favorite is naarthangaai – which loosely translated means rinds of fruit dried and salted – a tangy and salty companion to my thayir sadam…
Throughout my childhood holidays when cousins came over or we went visiting; it was often the custom in the afternoon for the lady of the house to round up all the miscreants.. seat them in a semi-circle.. and then take the largest vessel in the house and mix thayir sadam with all the remaining rice left over from breakfast! Then all of us would cup our hands to receive a fistful of curd rice; then came the strategic “kuzhi-panniko” which meant digging a well in the palmful of curd rice using your thumb without spilling – which was quite a task; especially if you’re visiting.. cause the ladies are very very generous and have bigger hands… next would come the accompaniment – sambhar or spicy vettha kuzhambu or aviyal or kootu… some gravied dish… each of us would in turn be served the accompaniment depending on the size of the “kuzhi” we made and scramble to get the concoction into our mouths before something spilt or started dribbling down our arms while trying to swallow a mouth full of too much curd rice and laughing at the efforts of others… sometimes I wonder if the ladies of the house entertained this practice solely as a diversion… seven or eight kids all struggling and smeared in white smudges of curd rice… but in the hot summer heat, sitting cross legged on the cool mosaic floor, and spilling away to glory!!!
Whether it was fever or an upset stomach; curd rice was the universal panacea. Sometimes fed, sometimes scooped and sometimes spilt; curd rice is at the heart and core of most childhood memories. Is it any wonder then, that every time I wander afar from home, in far flung and remote locations, when the thought of home ravages my mind, I always crave for thayir sadam – it evokes memories of motherly fussing, teasing cousins, school lunchtimes where the tiffin gets flicked and the lot hand back the dabba saying ‘eugh! Thayir sadam’, candlelight dinners fuelled by power cuts where nothing could be cooked except rice, fuzzy memories of heart and home somewhere far away… give me my thayir sadam any day!!!
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