Indian Odyssey (long post)

In March of 2003, I traveled with four other members of the Culinary Historians of Chicago on a tour of southern India that had been arranged by CHC president, Dr. Bruce Kraig, who had just finished filming a TV special on the foodways of southern India. Though there was a considerable focus on food, the tour also took in a wide range of non-culinary delights as well. (And if, after reading this, you think you'd like to go, I still have some of the contact info, and I'd love to go back -- maybe this could be the first LTH tour.)

When we landed in Chennai, I stepped outside the airport, took a deep breath of the warm, fragrant air, looked around, and instantly knew that I was going to fall in love with India—and that two weeks wouldn’t be nearly enough time. Our surroundings were enticingly exotic and beautiful beyond imaging. They were also bustling, crowded, and full of life.

Chennai, formerly known as Madras, is in Tamil Nadu. Tamil Nadu means “the state where they speak Tamil,” and Tamil is the local language. Chennai is the oldest city in India and the fourth largest, with a population of 10 million. As we headed off on our first afternoon tour, I noted that they drive on the left—a vestige of British rule. As we drove, our guide pointed out a grove of mango trees and told us, rather proudly I think, that there are more than 400 varieties of mango in India. Mangifera indica is, as the name indicates, indigenous to India, so it didn’t surprise me that they’d have the lion’s share of the varieties grown, but it did amuse me that this was the first thing our guide pointed out.

That first afternoon, we focused primarily on foreigners who had come to India. We toured Fort George, former seat of British government in this region. In the fascinating museum there, I learned, among other things, that Elihu Yale, for whom Yale University is named, was governor of Chennai in 1687-1692. Small world. We drove through the Portuguese part of town, with the Bay of Bengal off to our left, and headed to St. Thomas Cathedral. This is said to be the burial site of St. Thomas, one of the twelve apostles, who reportedly landed in Kerala in 52 A.D., then taught in Chennai for 20 years. This is the oldest church in India.

The afternoon included several other sights and a stop for shopping, but we had just arrived at noon, after nearly 20 hours of flying, and we didn’t push ourselves. But simply driving through town was a pleasure. The markets, motorcycles, trishaws, cows, cars, people, shops, universities, and temples around us were a constant delight, and our guide was a source of much entertaining information. (We learned that Chennai’s major industries are leather—run by Muslims and tolerated by Hindus—and films. While Bombay, or Bollywood, produces films in Hindi, Chennai, aka Chollywood, produces films in Tamil, Malayalm, and a dozen other languages.)

Our hotel, the Taj Connemara, was a splendid place (if it’s good enough for Queen Elizabeth, it’s good enough for me). We all took short naps, then headed down to the hotel’s glorious main restaurant, The Raintree. The tables are set outdoors, beneath massive, spreading raintrees, where the evening breeze brought us the fragrance of the jasmine and frangipani growing nearby. Women sat on a platform by the entrance, making hand-made breads, while dancers and musicians performed nearby. We were enchanted. What made it even better is that the head chef was waiting for us. He demonstrated how many of the local dishes are prepared, including an amazing shrimp dish with huge shrimp (prawns in India, as in Britain) that were tossed in lime juice, salt, and chilli paste, and then rolled in a blend of about a dozen ground spices and deep fried. Wow, was that ever sensational.

After a tour of the kitchen, we were shown to our table, and we had the opportunity to avail ourselves of the splendid buffet. The food was beyond amazing. Personal favorites (among dozens of dishes) included lamb in basil and cilantro sauce, roasted spiced quail, spiced greens, bread rice, kohlrabi in a cream sauce dotted with black mustard seeds, and pineapple tossed with chilli and cilantro.

Tamil Nadu is known as the "Temple State, and day two saw us heading off to Mahabalipuram and Kanchipuram to visit some of the area’s numerous magnificent Hindu temples. Tall towers covered with images of Hindu deities and stories opened up into halls of pillars, pools, and sacred images. The ancient stones were damp and cool, which was made more obvious by the requirement that we leave our shoes at the door. We were awed and delighted with the antiquity (one temple we visited dates to the 7th century, another to the 9th), the beauty, and the immensity of the temples.

After touring the temples we stopped to learn about Kanchipuram’s main industry—silk. About 80 percent of the town’s population is involved in the silk industry. In a local silk factory, we watched skilled artisans hand-weave spectacular silks in iridescent colors, most with intricate gold borders. Everything was just gorgeous. This led quite naturally to our doing our best to support the town’s silk industry. All five of us found much to buy, from ready-made shirts, scarves, shawls, and pillowcases to custom-made clothes. (All our special-order items were dutifully delivered to our hotel that night, by an earnest young man who made sure that each of us had exactly what we expected.)

After lunch, we were off to see more temples. The temples we saw now were particularly interesting because they represented the progression of temple making in this region. We saw temples that were carved into caves, that were carved out of giant monoliths, and that were built out of quarried stone. The artwork was splendid, and some of the bas-relief images of animals were life-sized.

On day three, we headed back to the airport. Cochin in Kerala was our next stop. Kerala is India's "Spice State." It is from here that about 80 percent of India's spices are shipped. It is among the most beautiful places in the world. It is also the state with the highest literacy rate in India (almost 100 percent) and a long history of multiculturalism (this is where traders have come for 3,000 years to obtain the fabulous spices that made India the goal of so many explorers—it is the point of origin of pepper, cardamom, cinnamon, and ginger).

It would take days to describe everything we saw and experienced in Kerala, so I shall share only some of the highlights. We enjoyed an elaborate meal in a private home, then were delighted to see family members’ wedding albums. We had a cooking demonstration of Keralan cuisine at the splendid Coconut Lagoon, a resort built among waterways, palm trees, flowers, and butterflies, where one stays in traditional Kerala teak houses. In a handsome wood and bamboo houseboat, we plied the famous "backwaters" of Kerala, which gave us an opportunity to witness the lives of local families, farmers, and fishermen, as they tended their nets, washed clothes or pots, or walked past the impossibly lush rice paddies. When we stopped to watch a local ceremony (complete with richly caparisoned elephant and a path outlined by small fires), we were made to feel welcome, and were even guided to the best spots for viewing. Before seeing a performance of Kathakali, Kerala’s religious dance/theater, we got to see the actors apply their complex make-up. We perused palaces, including the Hill Palace, which had a fascinating collection of royal jewels, Western paintings, ornate palanquins, Roman coins, and antique weapons. We visited local fishermen and admired their impressive catches (including shrimp almost as large as lobsters).

One of our favorite days in Kerala was the day we headed north to Trichur. The transit had been lovely, through small towns, past plantations of rubber trees and banana plants, across bridges spanning winding rivers lined and overhung with greenery. Our guide, Uni Krishna, had promised to take us to a local market, and in Trichur, he made good on that promise. We stopped at an extensive and opulently stocked produce market. As we got out of the van and began to make our way across the wide, busy street, people were friendly and smiling, but looked startled. Within minutes, news of our presence had spread through the market. As we turned a corner, a hundred or more men let loose a thunderously joyous cheer. On two other occasions in the market, upon turning corners, a roar of welcome greeted our appearance. Men and boys waved, grinned, beckoned, tidied up produce to look good for photos, carried out their largest jack fruit or best peppers, laughed, chatted, introduced themselves, pointed out good images to photograph, and posed near their stalls. We photographed mountains of bananas, grapes, apples, chillis, shallots, gourds, eggplants, potatoes, ginger, and vastly more. When we finally tore ourselves away from this wonderful place, Uni Krishna explained that tourists almost never come north of Cochin, so our presence would be an exceedingly rare, if not unique, event for the people at the market. I can honestly say that it was unique for me, too. What a welcome!

Across town, at the Siddhartha Hotel, another treat awaited us. We were in Trichur to experience a sadya, a traditional Keralan feast. This is so traditional that, not only are the types of foods and number of dishes well established, but different foods also have specific places they are to be set down on the traditional banana leaf used as a plate. Three cordial chefs demonstrated the preparation of more than a dozen dishes, many of them utilizing vegetables we’d just seen for the first time in the market place (snake gourd, ash gourd, drum stick), as well as prodigious amounts of spice and coconut milk. (Coconut milk and coconut oil are two of the defining elements of Keralan cooking.)

Eventually it was time to leave Kerala (sigh). We headed back to the splendid, new airport (which, despite the marble and glass, still offers such charmingly anachronistic touches as waiting rooms furnished with wood and upholstery armchairs, all with embroidered antimacassars), and jetted off to Bangalore.

In Bangalore, we were met by our next guide, Sudhakar, and were off for the three-hour drive to Mysore. Bangalore, with 6 million people, is India’s “Silicon Valley.” Impressive buildings lined broad streets of the bustling town. Boulevards lined with jacaranda trees, mimosa, flame trees, and frangipani soon led us out into a lovely and constantly changing countryside. We passed the impressive, granite Ramanaga Hills, which were featured in the movie “Passage to India.” On all sides, there was much to delight the eye: markets, small villages, carts drawn by ponies or Indian cows, workers, children, temples, fields, and farms.

We stopped outside of Mysore to visit the summer palace of Tipu Sultan, one of the last holdouts against British rule. This teakwood beauty was gorgeous inside, with murals, tiles, inlay, carvings, and arches in the Mughal style. The palace is a small gem in a setting of lovely gardens. We were then off to Tomb Gumbez, where Tipu Sultan and his parents are buried. This white marble confection is sometimes known as the “mini Taj Mahal.” Then it was on to Mysore, the “Sandalwood capital” of India.

On the approach to our hotel we did not, in fact, realize we were approaching our hotel. The gorgeous Lalitha Mahal Palace is actually a real palace. It was built by the Maharaja of Mysore for visiting rajas and ambassadors. However, the current Maharaja leases this palace to the government to run as a hotel. The A/C was a little less reliable than at the more modern hotels, but the joy of staying in such a spectacular place far outweighed so small an inconvenience. The doorman was attired in the formal dress of the Maharaja's household. The ivory-inlaid teak elephant in the lobby was surrounded by a carpet of jasmine and roses, which perfumed the air. The rooms and baths were elegant, and meals were served in a vast, Italianate room of Wedgewood blue and white with stained-glass, domed ceiling. It was just glorious.

After an excellent lunch (the most extensive buffet I’ve ever seen, with an impressive array of Indian delicacies, accompanied by live sitar music), we were off to visit the Maharajah’s palace. We learned that there is a current prince of the family living at the palace, but parts of the palace are still available for viewing. One quickly runs out of superlatives when faced with such a place. Sudhakar told us that there is a saying: Jaipur is the palace city in the north; Mysore is the palace city in the south. On of the women in our group who has seen both said that the palace before us was more glorious than the one in Jaipur. The huge, opulent Mughal-style building is built to impress, with ground-floor ceilings high enough to permit the passage of the royal elephant surmounted by the 80-kilogram Golden Howdah. I just wanted to stand and stare at the exterior for a few hours, but we had to keep moving. Inside, we saw stunning rooms with glass ceilings, silver chairs and a golden throne, endless halls and fabulous chandeliers, teak doors inlaid with ivory and doors of solid silver. It was glorious and astonishing.

There were a couple of stops to buy sandalwood carvings and sandalwood-scented soaps (I love sandalwood), then we headed back to the hotel. The monkeys running along the hotel’s ledges and balconies made us realize that they weren’t kidding when they posted the signs near our balcony doors about keeping monkeys out of the rooms.

Our second day in Mysore actually found us heading out of Mysore. We rolled through fascinating villages, which became smaller and sometimes poorer as we got farther from the city. The roads were lined by gorgeous rice paddies, fields of sugar cane, and stands of banyans and jacaranda trees. Women carrying pots on their heads walked well-worn paths. We passed bicycles loaded with sugar cane and carts drawn by bulls. It was all too wonderful for words.

We stopped in a village market to see “real life” as Sudhakar said. For sale here was far more than vegetables, though those were abundant. There were also chickens, goats, bulls, sheep, rice, cloth, betel nut, dyes, and necessities. Sudhakar got us samples of puffed basmati rice, a favorite snack, and jaggery, a locally produced sugar that is formed into large, hollow cubes the color of honeycomb, with a taste of molasses.

Then it was on the road again, continuing through the splendid countryside. There were touches of color everywhere: folk paintings on trucks and wooden carts, occasional pastel-colored houses, washing lines covered in bright saris, and flowering tress and bushes. And the air is as fragrant as the land is beautiful.

We visited two of the region’s most splendid temples. It would take hours to describe the intricate carvings, the rank upon rank of mythical animals, real animals, histories, warriors, gods and demons, musicians, dancers, and other artwork decorating the interiors and exteriors of these temples. The carvings are incredibly detailed: skulls are hollow; necklaces are separate from the bodies of dancers. It is truly amazing.

I felt that there was far more that I would have enjoyed seeing in Mysore, but we were off again the next day, this time headed for Goa. And it seems appropriate to mention our internal flights in India. The country’s Jet Airways is now one of my favorite airlines. They offer lots of leg room, have a great on-time record, offer superb Indian food, and they feed you even on a one-hour flight (always with vegetarian and non-vegetarian options). The airports in India will make you crazy (at least three security points to pass through for every flight), but this airline, at least, makes internal travel a delight.

Goa was Portuguese until 1961, which means it was controlled by a European power after all the rest of India had gained independence from Britain. A few years later, Goa was invaded by hippies who didn’t want the ‘70s to end. Signs of both groups were abundant, from Portuguese cathedrals to hippy tie-dye and head shops. Our hotel, the Fort Aquada Taj Resort, is built inside an old Portuguese fort and has a spectacular view of the ocean.

The stop in Goa was fun for the unique cuisine, a Portuguese-Indian hybrid. We got to spend a morning in the kitchen with Rui Madre Deus, one of India’s top chefs, who prepared for us an incredible lunch with a seafood focus—highlights included stuffed crab, stuffed pomfret, clams in green curry sauce, and tiger prawns that were almost the size of my fist in a curry flavored with lots of turmeric, chillis, and coconut. (Having spent a few hours perusing the fabulous fish market in town, we were glad to get a chance to try some of the local fish and seafood we had seen.)

There was a good bit of interesting history in Goa, and a lot of cathedrals to be seen. However, it is not a place one visits to become immersed in Indian culture. It’s primarily a place that people come to hit the beaches or indulge in the local spas (which we managed to fit in, too).

Far too soon, it was time to head home. Most of us boarded the plane already making plans for a trip back. This was an absolutely magical destination, a place of profound beauty and rich culture. It is also a place of gracious, friendly people who always made us feel welcome. I can’t wait to get back.

Thank you for sharing your trip with us. It was easy to enjoy vicariously and made me wish I were there as well. Lovely Dining Companion and I have each been to Nepal twice but never to India. As I fall more deeply under the spell of Indian food of all types and varieties, my greatest regret is that I can't somehow arrange a few months to see some of the country at leisure. Until then, this was a great introduction and fascinating reading. Thanks!