Tracing the origin of delectable heritage dish, erachi vartha rusee

The road was dusty and filled with pot holes. It had rained heavily and puddles of water had settled down comfortably all over the path. Driving through this unknown village’s dusty and wet lanes was a challenge. Lost, tired and hungry, we stopped, when an old lady with a wide toothless grin (except for her one gold tooth), stood in the centre of the road with a plate containing an idol, a few coins, vermilion powder and flowers.

Retired Air Marshal Kelly braked suddenly, dislodging his wife, Uma, and me. Anger gave way to astonishment when the old woman came close to my window, asking it to be rolled down and started a non-stop narration of predictions. She mentioned a lot of astonishing things and in the end insisted that since we were lost, we should feed our empty stomachs first, and then go on the right way which she would guide us on. We were trying to find our way to Madurai and this tiny village,Moothankulam, was 90km from it.

We gave in to the old lady’s request and entered the outskirts of the village, where we spotted a mud house with thatched roof, cow dung-plastered walls and a decorative doorway with gods and goddesses painted on it. Two cauldrons on wood fires were burning outside, being tended to by a young man and a woman, who turned out to be the old lady’s son and daughter-in-law. The aromas from the cauldrons assailed our nostrils, and soon we began salivating. Kelly, tired from the driving, stretched out on the coir cot, while we sat down on mats watching the cooking process. The young man, who was actually a chef at a star hotel in Hosur, was at home on a break. The chef, Keshav Kumar, explained that the masalas for the dish erachi varthadu were ground on the ammikal (grinding stone). To enhance the flavours, it is cooked only in a clay pot for the meat and spices to infuse together in the pot. The other pot had a vegetable mohanakavalai, a traditional sambar prepared with hand-pounded toor dal. The combination was rice, sambar with erachi varthadu and a side of fried appalams. Hungry and tired, we had one of the best meals — hot, peppy, aromatic and served under a banyan tree.

One of the Sangam era texts, Porunaratrupadai, states that the king’s favourite meat preparation was cooked on direct heat. “The thigh portion of the mutton or beef meat is cut into large chunks, marinated with pepper, dry ginger paste and then roasted on fire in a pot with the help of skewers and finally tossed with arugampul (Bermuda grass) for flavour, and served,” it notes.

The mutton dish was the highlight and the old lady remarked that the recipe tastes good if prepared with Mecheri goat variety in an earthen pot. Historical texts say that rice served with chunks of roasted meat was primarily from the Pandyan kingdom, as the kings relished it and encouraged their cooks to have it on their daily menus. The mutton fried till dry and flaky leaves its skin with the most appetising dark brown glaze, while the extra burned bits of masala and meat could keep one salivating for days even with a mention of the dish. Roadside carts and villages provide some of South India’s most authentic dishes.