I have come to Coorg looking for two things: white coffee flowers and dark pandi curry.
The coffee flowers have evaded me. I have not bothered to crosscheck the information I have about the time of their bloom and have reached Coorg only to be greeted by torrential rains. So, I pin my hopes on the other thing: Pandi curry.
I have heard many stories, watched numerous food shows, and read reams about the rich, flavourful treat from the region, and even though pork is not my first choice of meat, I am eager to experience the phenomenon called pandi curry.
Going by the stories I have heard, I already have a flavour of the dish in my mind: I have imagined it to be hot and spicy, with thick gravy, which tastes somewhat like the spicy mutton preparations of Andhra or the peppery chicken of Kerala. I could not be more wrong. The curry is spicy and yet bland (yes, such a combination does exist), I find it too high on spice and too low on flavour, and it does nothing for my taste buds. I make do with the beautiful rice chapattis called akki otti and some bland chicken.
With both my motives of travelling 2500 kilometres from home having been defeated, to say that I am now dejected will not be an exaggeration.
“What is a broken heart that cannot be mended by good food?” says my host Kaveri, when I share my disappointment with her. In a matter of minutes, I have a plateful of the most crispy onion and potato bhajjis, accompanied by cups of strong coffee. I am not even done with it when her cook, the ever-smiling Lakshmi, asks what I would like for dinner.
I feast on a dinner of the perfect poriyal and parathas a few hours later in candlelight, accompanied by a steady stream of rain falling on the asbestos rooftop.
Breakfast is perfectly-steamed rava idlis, hand-ground coconut chutney, and endless bowls of tomato sambar with baby potatoes. The idlis are soft as cotton, the sambar full of flavour — hot, spicy, tangy and sour all at once — and the chutney ground to perfection. I spend close to an hour enjoying every bite of the food and listening to Lakshmi sing a melancholic tune in Kannada.
As I get ready to pack, I realise Kaveri was indeed correct. The steaming idlis, the spicy sambar, the velvety chutney, and Lakshmi’s song have more than made up for my disappointment.
I promise to come back only for them.
