What do you do when the world seems dark, and you’ve lost all faith in humanity? Order biryani.
Try it, you’ll feel better. The dish was invented for the betterment of mankind. In a world in which our rivers overflow with sambar and rasam , biryani is that Everest that no dish can come close to.
Sundays are meant for biryani; the mornings are for shopping for meat and pudina leaves; noon is when we sauté onions and ginger-garlic paste in ghee. The sweet smell envelops the household even before the dish is ready. And once we stuff ourselves, there’s the post-biryani phase during which we keep asking ourselves: “Have I eaten too much?” Nonetheless, we reheat it for dinner. A few years ago, a Chennai restaurant even had a Biryani Helpline.
The food was average, but I kept ordering from them. I wanted to support a venture that actually strived to help biryani addicts like me. They eventually shut down, but I still have the number saved. For old times’ sake.
Make it with any meat or vegetables of your choice — if there’s one dish in which even carrots taste good, it’s biryani. I swear the dish has medicinal properties. It has ginger, garlic, coriander leaves... And that extra something — Chemical X — that makes biryani, biryani.
Akila Kannadasan can live without air and water, but not biryani.
The purpose of food — any food — is to unite. To get people to converse. And to get them to dissect gastronomical delights. Biryani doesn’t unite. It divides. Ask any vegetarian. You might argue that we have the “vegetable biryani” but no thank you, we’re much better off with puliyodharai.
Yes, you read that right. Now close your eyes and think about freshly-made puliyodharai (like what they serve in temples and mutts) — a little oily, filled with a generous dose of Bengal gram, with rice that is just about cooked. Insulting it is akin to insulting yellow... which is, well, the colour of the season because...it’s the colour of Chennai Super Kings.
Okay, I digress. But it cannot be denied that a well-made puliyodharai is worth its weight in gold. Back in the agraharams of Thanjavur and Kumbakonam, it is eaten for breakfast, lunch and dinner on some festival days. And you don’t need to even reheat it!
With biryani, there’s always indecision about what to put in: vegetables or meat. With puliyodharai, the lack of choices is a boon; it’s plain and simple. If you feel the need to team it with something, feel free to open a packet of potato chips. Or some crunchy kara-sev from your neighbourhood bakery. Puliyodharai is that always-trusty-but-severly-underrated meal that you can savour on any day, any occasion.
- Srinivasa Ramanujam can be found loitering near temples on Sunday mornings for a donnai of puliyodharai.
(Where we pit two Chennai icons against each other)