“Yes, yes, we always put a bit of jaggery in it,” I tell Rakesh Raghunathan, when he informs me that the puliyogare he had at the Melkote Temple was sweet! There is always this underlying current of rivalry when Iyengars on either side of the Cauvery compare their puliyodhare or puliyogare. Raghunathan has a popular blog called Puliyogare Travels and his mission is to find out all about traditional food in this part of the world. He travels widely and his workshops are filled with incredible nuggets of information, besides great food.
Raghunathan has not yet uncovered the history of puliyogare except that it has been a popular prasadam in many temples — notably at the Parthasarathy Temple at Triplicane (Chennai) and Srirangam — for god knows how long. His favourite is the Triplicane offering. No sweet in that, he clarifies again. “The reason why puliyogare began to be offered as the preferred prasadam was perhaps because the ingredients were all easily available. Tamarind, rice, sesame (ellu)...”
I have never done this, but I know that if I sniffed the temple pillars, I will get a whiff of puliyogare down the ages (because the done thing after eating the prasadam is to wipe one’s hands down the pillars). Oh yes, I know of favourite-temple lists that have been compiled after deliberating on the quality of the puliyogare offered there.
Besides being a favourite with the gods, puliyogare is also the preferred choice of prayanams. Remember the long two-night-three-day travels (Kurla Express, Coromandel Express...)? The saapadu pai held the precious burden that provided for the next seven or eight meals and then some. “The puliyogare tasted the best on the last and final day of travel,” declares Anuradha, who says that the long journeys from Mumbai to Chennai embarked upon immediately after exams were made extra special with the tamarind rice. Raghunathan loves the tamarind rice so much that he calls his blog after it. (I have a cousin who loves paruppu podi so much, guess what he calls his blog?) My mother is sorely disappointed with me for having shifted loyalties to readymade puliyogarepodi. She can’t see what the big deal is about spending an hour in the kitchen making the pulikaachal. While the satisfaction of making one’s own pulikaachal is immense, cleaning up is no joy. But I will grant you this. Making the gojju is a complete sensory experience. You see the glistening garnet mixture bubbling on the fire, you hear the ‘plop plop’ as it bubbles, you cautiously blow at the teaspoon you have dipped into it and put it in your mouth, and your face puckers at the tamarind’s tartness. (And that is why we add jaggery to it.)
Pulikaachal/Gojju
If you are really going to make it from scratch, here is my version of the pulikaachal, or as I call it, gojju. It has a long shelf life and goes well with toast and rotis.
Ingredients
2 cups (approx) tamarind pulp
1/4 cup jaggery (dissolved in a little water)
1 cup sesame oil
2 tsps mustard seeds
A pinch of asafoetida
A couple of sprigs of curry leaves
Salt to taste
3 tbsps rasam powder
Method
In a kadai, add a generous splash of sesame oil (peanut or sunflower oil works too). When the oil is hot, season with mustard seeds, asafoetida and curry leaves. After it splutters, add the pulp of the tamarind and jaggery and turn the heat down. Add the rasam powder to it and allow it to cook till it reaches a jam-like consistency. Add salt and cool before you bottle it.
Keep the cooked rice ready. It is magic when you add some turmeric powder and raw sesame oil to the rice. Spoon the required amount of pulikaachal to the rice and mix, taking care to be gentle. When evenly mixed, set aside and temper once again with peanuts. For that X factor, dry-roast sesame seeds and copra and pound coarsely and drizzle over the dish.
In this fortnightly, we explore iconic foods, their origins and evolution