Ramasseri Idli: None of the Trimmings, All of the Taste

At the age of twelve I had summed up the idli to be mostly bland, stodgy and quite unimaginative, compared to the vibrancy of other south Indian foods and proceeded to use it as a hilarious insult for one of my cousins, dubbing him: idli anna (brother). Hopefully he won't read this (since I continue to use that moniker to this day), but I must admit I was wrong about both!

Idli is a south Indian staple: a light, fluffy rice and lentil cake that can be adorned with a host of delectable chutneys, gravies and my personal favourite idli podi (powder). The idli is an opportunity, it soaks up as much flavour as you want to give it to then explode on your pallet. The perfect idly has a cloud-like quality and can easily be divvied, as wafts of starchy steam gently escape the close-knit air pockets. Though there are some slight variations to the texture and taste of idli, the shape has been pretty consistent I could say over the past few centuries. Enter the game-changer: the infamous Ramasseri idli.

Whether you are journeying in or out of Kerala, whether you have some time to spare or if after reading this you chose to make time, go off the beaten track to an unremarkable tea stall with a remarkable history in Ramasseri. I have the fortune of having married into a family that seeks unique experiences at every opportunity, so a Sunday morning pilgrimage to the family deity in Palakkad, Kerala turned into a toothsome quest for the infamous Ramasseri idlies. Naturally Google maps was our helmsmen, but in India you will find that unless you stop and ask a local resident you will be chasing your tail and not quite so coolly make it to, “you have arrived at your destination”. So after a series of enthusiastic gesticulations and a reassuring smile, we were etching our tracks into the paths created by those gastronomically motivated travellers before us. Passing by bright pastel houses and a quaint lotus pond, we ventured down village lanes where the only demarcation for the road is the hemming where dust ends and weeds begin. We began to slow down to ask for more directions from a gentleman, nonchalantly seated in front of a brown-blue hovel, sipping chai and thumbing a newspaper, when my mother-in-law exclaimed, “Ramasseri idli!”.

Entering Saraswathy Tea Stall anticipate no kitschy gimmicks to entice tourists, what you see is what you get: unperturbed residents enjoying their local staple. We were welcomed warmly by our hostess Thanuja, whose amused smile let on that she knew we had travelled to Ramessari for one thing only. As we sat waiting at the neatly kept, cosmic print cover tables, my father-in-law reminded us to savour the experience of tasting a secret, hundred-year old recipe. The recipe for the Ramasseri idli is something that saved Thanuja's family, allowing her Mudaliar ancestors to migrate and thrive after losing their weaving jobs. Thanuja's mother, family matriarch and the head chef at Saraswathy Tea Stall, Bhagyalakshmi Ammal soon came out to greet us. What would certainly have been a novelty in most up-scale restaurants, to have the head chef and guardian for a century-old recipe greeting us, was homely hospitality here in Ramasseri. She invited us to enjoy, as plates splattered with coconut chutney, two types of milagai podi (chilli powder) and a vadai (savoury donut) were doled out to us. Finally, nestled amongst the spices and drops of coconut oil, the unassuming white plains of the Ramasseri idli were laid for feasting, topped with a coconut stew. The two whole idlies, though wide in appearance are consumed in a matter of minutes. Absorbing all the surrounding aromas and flavours, particularly of note the in-house milagai podi, mixed with coconut oil rather than sesame oil, had a distinct, tangy flavour. The stew envelops the already cloud-like idlies with a mild coconut wash and between melting mouthfuls of Ramasseri idli, one can punctuate the meal with lentil morsels of crispy vadai and sips of Sulaimani chai (Kerala style black tea).

After one too many cups of chai however you may find yourself needing to answer the call of nature, luckily for us Thanuja was more than obliging. Taking us the short walk to her house, she welcomed us through the doors of what was once a one-bedroom village dwelling, to a converted, two-story residential property. What struck me was the pride she felt in being able to share her home with complete strangers, but she explained that despite the fame of the Ramesseri idli, her new home was paid for by a relative's earnings from a government job. Having just paid approximately £2.79 (INR 180) for the four of us at Saraswathy Tea Stall, I can understand why this might be the case. Thanuja also explained however that recently other members of the family had expanded the scope of the business, so fears of this tradition of idli-making dying out are not in the immediate future.

Back in the tea stall, Bhagyalakshmi Ammal invites us back into the kitchen to see how everything is made. The secret is in the batter of the idli, so of course we were not privy to that, but the process itself is certainly not without skill. Thanuja explains that once they started receiving large wedding orders they purchased an electric wet grinder, though they still held onto and utilised the manual one. In the farthest room at the back, smoke rises from the tamarind tree wood used uniquely to heat the custom-made idli moulds. The batter is poured into these moulds and heated, as steam rises to cook and form the idli.

When we returned to the front of the tea stall Bhagyalakshmi explains how families like us would package and take Ramasseri idlies back home to enjoy for the next few days, but not as much anymore. Speaking to her in Malayalam, my mother-in-law discusses with her how the rice that they used to use was from their own local fields, but that now they had to use a generic brand from a large manufacturer, which has affected the quality of the idlies. Bhagyalakshmi worries for the future of her tea stall, though other members of her family are now expanding the business, for her the original quality of each and every Ramasseri idli is clearly the most valuable aspect. Perhaps Bhagyalakshmi Ammal's fears do not go unfounded, since we live in a world where supply continues to be challenged by mounting consumer demand and trying to make small, artisanal businesses the norm rather than an indulgence is a challenge. As she saw us off from the entrance of Saraswathy Tea Stall I won't encourage you all to run to save Ramasseri idli from extinction, because I don't believe that's the immediate concern. Rather go out to support it as it grows with regular business, reassure Bhagyalakshmi Ammal and her family that we as consumers still value quality and encourage an accustomed appreciation for Ramesseri idli, just the way it is.