📣 For more lifestyle news, click here to join our WhatsApp Channel and also follow us on Instagram
© IE Online Media Services Pvt Ltd
Tags:
Journalism of Courage
One of my greatest culinary discoveries after moving to Delhi was curry leaves. Bunches of curry patta or leaves were sold in markets, people had curry leaf plants growing in their houses, my current home has a massive tree close to 8 feet tall — it was used liberally in cooking, almost as much as coriander leaves were. I was a quick convert.
Tempering the oil with fresh green curry leaves before cooking vegetables, adding it to dal, and even to meat and chicken curries, and, of course, to fish moilee, gave the dishes a delicious, unique, but very subtle flavour.
But could the original name of the leaf actually be “curry” patta? Or was this some British terminology, like the Madras “curry” powder which is sold — and bought by me, I must admit — to unsuspecting foreigners who have no clue that this is a creation of our colonisers. No Indian knew of an all-purpose curry powder until Bolst’s Indian Condiments introduced it.
Yet, it seems “curry pata” is indeed the original Indian name of the plant, as it’s been traced back to the 1st to 4th century CE, and is mentioned extensively in Tamil and Kannada literature as a derivative of “kari”, which means “spiced sauce” in Tamil.
By the time traders and colonisers had made their way to India, the “kadi patta” was being widely used in cooking. And they are the ones who changed its spelling and reference to “curry”.
The botanical name, though, is Murraya koenigii, named after the Swedish physician and botanist Johann Andreas Murray and the German botanist Johann König, who studied Indian flora in the 18th century and documented the existence of what we call the curry leaf.
Today, you can find curry leaves in India, Sri Lanka, Southeast Asia, Australia, the Pacific Islands, and Africa. Originally, curry leaves were cultivated only in Eastern and Southern India, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, China, Southeast Asia, and in some parts of the United States and Australia.
That it has become a staple across many regions of India is a testament to its flavour. And I do feel the reason both coriander and curry leaves are so abundantly used in Indian cooking is because the plants flourish throughout the year.
While researching this article, I came across an interesting anecdote: the Sindhi yoghurt-based gravy called kadhi is named after the curry leaves used to flavour it. I’ve also heard people refer to curry leaves as “meetha neem” or sweet neem, also because the leaves resemble the neem leaf.
It is the south of India which truly celebrates the curry leaf – if you’ve eaten dosa, it’s impossible to find sambar without curry leaves or the potato stuffing without curry leaves in it. In Tamil cuisine, karuveppilai thuvaiyal is a spicy green chutney made from ground curry leaves. Karuveppilai sadam is a delicious rice preparation made by stirring rice with a dry curry-leaf powder.
Kerala’s fish curries and dals are always tempered with curry leaves, as are the gravies of Chettinad cuisine. It is as popular in Andhra Pradesh and Telangana, where it is also made into a podi – dried ground powder – to be eaten with rice and ghee.
My pro tip for cooking with curry leaves is not to use just the leaves when tempering your oil. Always use the stem after tearing the leaves off, then remove it before serving the food. The stem holds an abundance of flavour and fragrance.
The other tip is that while you can temper the oil you’re cooking your meat, vegetables or dal in with fenugreek/methi seeds, mustard seeds and curry leaves, always tear a few curry leaves up and stir them into the gravy once you’ve finished cooking – that’s how you’ll get the most flavour and aroma out of the leaves.
And in case you have a massive curry leaf plant in your garden, but aren’t a fan of the flavour, don’t let the leaves go to waste – grind them to a powder, and apply them to your hair for lustrous locks.
Truly, a leaf for all seasons and reasons.
Next week, I’ll be writing about Lucknow’s greatest contribution to the world of evening soirees, the shami kebab.
