Forerunner

One could argue that this is the spot from where Chennai's tryst with regional cuisines really took off. Nair's Mess is older for sure, but tucked away in Triplicane, it catered to a very niche clientele. This location, across the road from the Music Academy was an unorthodox choice by Ravikumar Reddy to set up a non-vegetarian, Andhra-food only restaurant. When it opened on December 14, 1980, the kutcheri season was about to start; it would have been unreasonable to assume that the carnatic music aficionados would make a beeline to eat non-veg food. 

But Amaravathi has thrived. Ravikumar's bet has paid off quite handsomely; Amaravathi has been the font for his firm to open several other specialty restaurants, mainly in the same neighbourhood. Kabul, for the NWF cuisine, Karaikudi for Chettinad stuff and quite a few others. 

Maybe Amaravathi has been un-ambitious by remaining a single-location brand. But maybe because of this, the brand has not been copied by wannabes. So you can be sure that when you get to Amaravathi, you are at the original!

The Eater's Digest - 12

The Nair Mess at Triplicane is over 60 years old. I am unable to indulge in nostalgia for what it was like, because for the longest time, I was not able to make it there for lunch. I have heard innumerable tales of how crowded it would be at lunchtime, and how the food there was to die for. And then, the place went and renovated itself, so there was now an opportunity for a level playing field. 

Still, it took a bunch of schoolmates to push me to get there. The instructions we were told were very clear. Be there by 12:55 pm. If you can't make it in time, then turn back, go away. Nervous about showing up late, we used the map to guide us. The map showed us where to park and how to walk in. But having parked on Walajah Road, it was not easy to get to the place. The map gave up, but our hunger must have showed on our face, for even before we could ask for directions, we were pointed in the right direction. Schoolmates, for a change, did not taunt us for being just that bit late; they had got in and held two seats for us, as we walked in at 12:58. The place was relatively empty, with only 3 or 4 of the 20-odd tables having diners at them.

In the 3-4 minutes it took us to complete our hellos, every table was full up and there was a crowd of people waiting to be seated. And yet, we never felt rushed. There is not much of a menu; you better know what they can serve you at lunch time and you ask for it. The waiters will remind you of several sides that you might like to order to enjoy the experience to the fullest, but they're happy even if you go for just the simple mutton-meal or fish-meal. We did gorge, and some of my foodie friends reminded me that even if the building has been renovated, the menu and the preparation continues to remain the same: a wonderfully flavoured set of dishes that fills you up, but never lets you feel bloated. That's a grand meal, for sure!

Foodwalk

Not for us the food courts; we need to walk around trying out different dishes from multiple cuisines. But most visits to the KC Food Street end up in shawarmas or kababs. 

The "KC" in the name is the abbreviation for Kandanchavadi, which is where this food street is!

 

Biryani, anyone?

Who was it that had the idea of serving food in a bucket? Not just any food, biryani in particular. Who thought of it first? I am sure it started off as a convenient way of sending out the stuff in bulk, but in the past few years, it has become a thing. However, from what I have been able to figure out, with my limited research, is that the north Indian biryanis don't lend themselves to be parcelled into plastic buckets and carted around; it is only the south Indian variety that gets delivered and eaten by the bucket-load.

Before all of you howl about the best way to eat the best biryani, do remember that it is now a dish that has broken all kinds of norms. Each outlet decides the best combination for their biryani and goes for that, unmindful of what regional version it evokes. And there are hundreds of such outlets in Chennai alone. In 2020, Zomato delivered 22 biryanis every minute; in 2021 they went up to 180 biryanis a minute, and their rival Swiggy claimed that 115 biryanis were ordered every minute. Those are all-India figures, but Chennai's standalone should be pretty much in the same range, I guess. 

And then there are the self-delivering brands, who supplement the Zomato / Swiggy orders with their own delivery teams. One such is the SS Hyderabad Biryani, which started operations in Broadway in 1998 and now has over 25 branches in Chennai, and a few in other cities, besides. Here are a few of their delivery vehicles lined up in front of one of their outlets - exhorting folks to share their biryani; of course, it would be difficult for one person to finish a bucketful of it!

 

The Eater's Digest - 11

It has been quite a few posts since the last Eater's Digest came up - and because there was a craving for beef last evening, this one had to be today's post. A generation ago, Kalpaka on TTK Road was the place to go for beef - especially the Syrian Beef Fry, as it used to be called. Funnily enough, that name never evoked any association with the middle east, but the very mention called to mind the flavours of Kerala. That's where the Kalpaka Beef Fry was born, from the Syrian Christian kitchens of that state.

Kalpaka was of course a Malayali kitchen. That meant Kerala porottas and aapams for sure, with a bunch of dishes that you could find in pretty much any restaurant. But what was impossible to replicate was the peppery-coconutty combination of the gravies, which has been the signature taste of the Malabar coast. And in the 1990s it was possible on occasion to smuggle in some nice Old Monk to go with the food; the tradition of Malayalees being able to hold their drink was never contradicted at Kalpaka. 

These days, you cannot get the Syrian Beef Fry at Kalpaka. The price of political correctness, possibly, has led to the dish appearing as Kalpaka Beef Fry. Must go back to try it, so reassure myself that 20-odd years cannot change the taste of that signature dish from the Suriani kitchens. If you would like to try that for yourself, this may be a good place to start!

Home, sweet home

In 1910, P.M.A. Muthiah Chettiar, a Nattukottai Chettiar became the first of his clan to decide to settle down in Madras. His choice of location was Purasaiwalkam and he picked up a bungalow called "Natana Vilas". PMA Muthiah Chettiar went on to become one of the Directors of Indian Bank, and on to other great things. 

Muthiah Chettiar sold the house to Annamalai Chettiar and it was then bought by S.S. Rajan, whose descendants own the property now. A few years ago, the owners agreed to have the house re-purposed to accommodate a restaurant. The first one which came up there was called Rasam. While the idea was interesting, it didn't catch the fancy of too many people and was closed within a couple of years. 

Rasam was replaced by "Gokulam Veg Restaurant". That is Sri Krishna Sweets' restaurant brand and for a while, it was doing well. But slowly, the mother brand took over; today 'Natana Vilas' is more a heritage outlet for Sri Krishna Sweets, with the restaurant, by all accounts, being little more than a sign outside. No wonder it is sweet home!

Mix and match

The most vegetarian of breakfasts, with the poster-boy for flesh eating folks. That is a rather interesting combination. Kozhi Idli on Avvai Shanmugham Salai has a very simple menu. There is idli and there is kozhi. The chicken comes in different combinations: kozhambu, thokku, rasam, paniyaram, cheese ball and puttu. 

The idli is of just one kind. And oh, there is kulfi, by the way!

Burmese plate

Last week, after hearing about a slice of Burmese history in Madras - which I was completely unaware of until then - it was absolutely coincidental to come across this sign. 

There must be a few other Burmese outlets in Chennai, but I can't remember any of them off the top of my head!

Tuck in

A little behind the Music Academy, on TTK Road, this eatery has been a haunt for the displaced Malayalee ever since it opened about 30 years ago. I think it is a slight exaggeration to call it a restaurant, for it is a very basic operation. Tables, chairs, steel plates - maybe a few plain china plates as well - the waiters dressed as they please, no uniforms here, it gets to be about as authentic a Kerala experience as possible.

There are some outfits that try to keep up with their early clientele, growing old - 'evolving', if you will - with them. And then there are others that try to stay young, staying with their original reputation, forever attracting a new generation of patrons. That approach runs the risk of being branded 'downmarket', especially if the new generation considers their offerings too old-fashioned.

Kalpaka has probably got its act down well; their menu is just the standard, solid, regular fare, things that the Malayalee has been used to for maybe a couple of centuries. Aapam, the Kerala porotta, and the Kerala Syrian Beef Fry. These are comfort foods for the non-resident Keralite and there is still a regular inflow of them into the city, keeping Kalpaka in business - and true to its coconut oil roots!

What's new?

It is not fair to expect a 'Tea House' to be open in the morning, which is when this picture was taken. The Novelty Tea House is not a pretentious newcomer to the world of eating out in Chennai; it is an establishment that is being run by the third generation in the business currently. 

Chandrakant Moolchand Shah was probably frustrated trying to find some north Indian snacks in the early '50s. He channeled that frustration into setting up a stall. There seem to have been no grand plans initially; it was just a 'tea stall', but clearly, the desire was to be different, hence 'Novelty'. Sowcarpet, where the first stall was, welcomed it. Over 50 years, the stall grew into a 'House', but remained within the north Madras area. It was only over the last 4 or 5 years that they have opened out to other parts of the city.

This one on Radhakrishnan Salai is, I believe, the most recent of the three locations. When open, it is usually chock-a-block with those itching to have a dahi-poori or four with their cuppa tea, or maybe a faluda. Once inside, it is easy to imagine you are away from Chennai - there is so much of Hindi in the air that English and Tamizh sound intrusive. But that is only to be expected at an establishment which claims to have introduced the pav-bhaji to Madras!

Chennai branch

The halwa from Tirunelveli's Iruttukadai (Dark shop) is famous enough to merit its own geographical indicator, but then it is only one of the many shops in that town making and selling the eponymous sweet. There is no official account as to how the halwa originated. One version has it that the zamindar of Chokkampatti, when on a trip to Kasi, was bowled over by the taste of the halwa there. He hired some cooks - they were Rajputs, incidentally - to take over the kitchen at the Chokkampatti palace. A couple of generations later (probably), someone from the family thought of selling the halwa in Tirunelveli. 

The credit for actually selling the halwa in Tirunelveli goes to a lady named Lakshmi, who went around selling it door to door. Seeing the demand generated by her, Jegan Singh opened up the first exclusive halwa shop there. That was in 1882. And he spawned the cult of the Tirunelveli halwa. No one is sure about the number of shops in that city which sell the Tirunelveli halwa, but for a long while, it was not distributed beyond the city. We in Chennai would have to wait for a friend to bring it from its origins - and then, when it was distributed, there would be barely enough of it to stem the drooling.

But not any more. The halwais of Tirunelveli have spread out geographically. Many shops in Chennai stock the product, delivered fresh every day. But there are only a few which have set up a branch office in the city. Leading them, of course, is the originator of the halwa. Jegan Singh's store, Sri Lakshmi Vilas - named for the lady who began the selling - will give you the stuff from their exclusive outlet in West Mambalam. And it is not just any old Tirunelveli halwa; this one comes with the added descriptor, "Lala alva", declaring the authenticity of its lineage!

The Eater's Digest - 10

"If you are late, we can't guarantee seats, sir", said the manager when we called ahead to book a table. The restaurant has been generating a lot of buzz in recent weeks and it also happened to be on the way back from work. We had seen the crowds outside and knew that the manager was not putting up airs; we made sure we were well ahead of time.

The outside looks quite like a film set, the way we know jails should look like. Grey facade, with a door that is completely plain except for the iron bands breaking it into large square panels. A barred peephole lets you look inside; the light that comes out reminds you of oily naked incandescent bulbs that do more to emphasize the darkness than provide any light. Forbidding. But we have reservations and we go inside. Much of the restaurant is like any other, tables, seats, lots of noise and light. But we had a request, we needed a cell.

Turns out we had to specify that when booking, but since we were a small group, an empty cell was easily found. We had to wait a little while the 'prisoner' set the table. The 'jailer' was quite attentive and we got to sit quite soon. There! We were at Kaidi Kitchen (Convicts' Kitchen) - a concept that has reached Chennai from Kolkata, where it is headquartered. Mexican, Thai, Chinese, Indian, Lebanese... and Mongolian. We played it safe and the food did not disappoint. But more than the food, it was the ambience we went for - and that was quite paisa vasool, thanks to kaidi # 108 who served us in cell J2!

The Eater's Digest - 9

It may be sacrilegious to talk about French cuisine and fast food in the same breath, but that's what bistros were, apparently. Urban legend has it that Russian soldiers in Paris during the early 19th century called out "bystro", indicating their desire to be served quickly. And so, those kitchens which put out simple fare, priced to suit the purses of the frontline soldiers, came to be called bistros. 

One thing is for sure. L'Amandier, which opened a few months ago on Chamiers Road, has got the 'simple' and 'economical' parts of the (alleged) bistro definition right. In keeping with the Parisian theme, they have a few tables outside, but given the Chennai weather, those may remain empty most of the time. Inside, however, it is pleasant, the food is simple, eminently gorge-able, and the people are nice.

Do they serve wine, like bistros are expected to? Ah, now you're being too greedy. Enjoy the food - and be happy with the fruit juices you get!

Good night

I don't think I agree with that statement entirely, but you can't fault a restaurant for trying to push the idea of eating!

Geometric eatable

We are probably a very mathematically inclined people when it comes to food. From doling out liquids by the metre to getting that perfect circle for the chappati, it is all part of the maths that makes the world go round. So when today's theme - over at the City Daily Photo Bloggers group, that is - was announced, I figured this would be the best representation of the theme.

Of course, you could get this in two dimensions, with the circle tucked in to make a triangle of the dosa, but when you ask for a ghee roast, you have to be prepared for it to take a three-dimensional form as well. There are some who would argue that the ghee roast works best as a cylinder, but like the Little-Endians and the Big-Endians, that argument would lead to wars, but no agreement.

But whatever be the shape it takes, a ghee roast makes for a great breakfast!

Figured out the theme for the City Daily Photo Bloggers today? Head out here to find more interpretations!

Which place, again?

With a name like "That Madras Place", one would expect to be greeted with a menu that had something to do with Madras. Yes, it is instinctively evident that this is not meant to be a south Indian place; Anglo-Indian dishes might have been a good start, even then. Dishes like "Chicken Madras", "Chinnamalai Pork Curry", "Kidney Toast Madras Style", going on to a "Madras Club Pudding". But no, no such luck.

Maybe the connect is to a time when Madras' finest hotel was run by a man from Messina!

Guardians

The only question is, what are they guarding? They loom large just inside the door of Mainland China's restaurant off Cenotaph Road. The culinary secrets of Cathay are safe with them!

Hidden store

Walking around the Mada streets around the Kapaleeswarar temple in Mylapore, there is only one place to slake your thirst. The problem is, if you go looking for it, you are quite likely to be disappointed, for there is no indication that this store has anything capable of cooling you down. Even though the English lettering on the side indicates a 'Cool Drink Stall', the main Tamizh sign - and the display of its wares - point more towards an outlet for newspapers and magazines. 

The Kalathy store has been operating from the same location (the southern end of East Mada Street) for 87 years. When it began its operations in 1927, India was still a generation away from independence, ice was a rare - and precious - commodity and even the choice of magazines was limited. The store got by with selling home-made sweetmeats and cooling drinks, along with a lot of items needed for pujas, as well as those things needed for the devotees' material comforts. For a while in the 1960s and '70s, it was one of many stores that were selling the same things. But Kalathy outlasted them all with a killer app: their rose-milk. 

A glass of iced rose-milk here costs `12. But it is a monopoly, for none of the stores nearby have anything close to Kalathy's rose-milk. The drink takes you back to the days of playing in the dusty streets, and, clutching those 3 or 4 coins, getting a sticky toffee and the cool refresher that no mother could object to, not when it was essentially milk. Today, you can choose to have it by the glass, or if you like, you can buy a whole bottle of the essence for `80. But I am sure that I will not be able to blend the essence the way Kalathy does, to taste their signature product!

Afloat yet

Vinayaga Chaturti was ten days ago; all the idols of the elephant-headed God would have been immersed in the sea by now (including that one made of silver, valued at Rs.20 lakh). 

This one, however, is in one of the lobbies at The Leela Palace in Chennai and doesn't look like it is going to take a swim anytime now.

Guess

If you can make the correct guess about where this sign was found, I shall let you take me there. And I promise to enjoy it ;)