Idlis Are The Breakfast Staple With A Story To Tell
By Kalpana Sunder
A waiter picks out two freshly steamed idlis from the fresh batch that was just thrown into a steel vessel, and he drops them on my banana leaf. I take a small piece of the soft and fluffy rice cake, douse it in sambar and pat it with molagapodi — a dry, spicy condiment made of lentils and chillies that is fondly called ‘gunpowder’ — mixed with gingelly oil. Finally, I dip it in three types of chutney before putting it in my mouth.
Soft, steamed idlis served with hot sambar and coconut chutney form the holy trinity of South Indian breakfasts. Many consider this combination the mother of all comfort foods. In fact, according to the food delivery app Uber Eats, idlis are the most ordered breakfast item on its Indian platform.
Idlis are eaten by everyone. Available for as little Rs 5 (approximately 60 pence) a piece, they are within reach of the rich and the poor. They also make for great travel foods with a good shelf life. Popular all over the South Indian states of Tamil Nadu, Karnataka, Kerala and Andhra Pradesh and also in northern Sri Lanka, idlis are made from a fermented batter of dehusked urad dal (black lentils) and parboiled rice.
“Idlis are good for your gut health as they are a fermented food with a good dose of probiotics,” says Madhumita Krishnan, an Ayurvedic doctor based in Bengaluru, explaining one of the reasons for their lingering popularity. She adds that the combination of carbohydrates and proteins makes them nutritionally complex. Since they are bland and easily digestible, doctors also recommend them as the first solid food for babies, and for those convalescing from illness.
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Even though they are now ubiquitous across the country, idlis may not have originated in India.
According to India’s celebrated food historian K.T. Achaya, idlis may have come from Indonesia, a country with a long tradition of making steamed and fermented food. He suggested that the technique of fermentation was brought to India by the cooks employed in the royal kitchens of Hindu kings in Indonesia.
In his book A Historical Companion of Indian Food, Achaya quotes the famous Chinese traveller Xuan Zang, who observed that Indian food techniques did not include steaming in the 7th century AD. Intensifying the debate, culinary anthropologist Kurush Dalal said: “Idlis can’t be older than 1000 BC, as before that South India did not grow any rice. The original idli was made of only urad dal and no rice.”
Chennai-based chef and TV host Rakesh Raghunathan, who has an avid interest in preserving heirloom recipes, says that as described in ancient, Sangam-era Tamil literature, Indian cooking involved techniques such as frying. However, there was no mention of steaming, or a specialised utensil for that purpose. “All the recipes [for idlis] mentioned in ancient Indian works leaves out the use of rice grits, the fermentation of the mix and the steaming for fluffiness, which probably came into existence only around 1250 CE,” he said.
Historians believe that the word idli may have been derived from ‘iddalige’. Mentioned in the Kannada work Vaddaradhane, written in 920 AD, iddalige is described as a dish made of soaked urad dal, ground into a paste and mixed with yogurt and spices. ‘Iddarika,’ or fine urad dal balls fried in ghee, also appear in the 12th-century Sanskrit text Manasollasa, which is considered India’s oldest existing cookbook.
Yet another theory about the origin of idlis is that they came to South India when a community of silk weavers from Saurashtra in Western India, settled down in Tamil Nadu around the 10th century AD. It is believed that they brought idada, a steamed white dhokla (a popular steamed dish from the state of Gujarat), which is made from the same ingredients as idli — rice and urad dal.
Whatever the origins of this famous breakfast dish, it’s clear that it was in South India that the process of making idlis from a fermented batter of urad dal and rice was perfected.
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As a newlywed, I realized that the ultimate moment of victory in the kitchen was passing the idli-making test. Making idlis is a complex science with many elements. If the batter becomes over-fermented, the idlis become sour, and if it is under-fermented, they become hard and flavourless. My grandmother taught me a trick to get it right: “The lentil should be ground to a smooth consistency, till it’s fluffy and you can blow it off your fingers.” I still follow that direction.
Generally, to make idli batter, four parts of parboiled rice and one part of urad dal are soaked separately, for about six to eight hours or overnight. A small spoon of fenugreek seeds is usually added to the mix, to make it softer. Some people add a handful of beaten rice too.
Grinding and fermenting the batter is the next step. The rice is ground coarsely, and the two ground mixtures are beaten together to aerate them. According to Raghunathan, this process of aeration is crucial for the texture of the final product.
“The art of making fluffy and soft idlis comes down to three factors — the proportion of rice and urad dal, grinding the batter to the appropriate consistency and the fermentation process itself,” explained Saravanan Ranganathan, executive sous chef at the Novotel OMR in Chennai. “Once fermented, the batter is steamed for about ten minutes in special idli moulds that are greased and stacked inside a steamer. Traditionally, idli plates are covered with wet muslin cloth or leaves to make it easier to remove the idlis once they are done.
The idli is versatile, with many versions shaped by contemporary needs and tastes. The variations of the classic idli involve different raw materials and methods of preparation. For instance, rava idlis are made of semolina and yogurt. Mavalli Tiffin Rooms (MTR), the iconic restaurant in Bengaluru, is credited with creating this version of the idli during World War II, when rice was in short supply.
Another famous variation is the flat, saucer-shaped thatte idli (‘thatte’ is a circular platter) made in towns like Bidadi and Tumkur in Karnataka. One thatte idli is almost equivalent in size to two or three idlis. Usually, tapioca pearls are added to conventional idli batter to make thatte idlis more spongy and porous.
“Another variation along the western coast of Karnataka is ‘kadubu’ idli or idli batter steamed in stitched jackfruit leaves,” said Raghunathan. “The same coastal region also has jackfruit idlis cooked in banana leaves and served with a dollop of ghee. [This version] has no lentils, only rice, coconut and jackfruit.”
Other iterations include sanna, a delicacy from West India that is usually eaten with pork sorpotel (a spicy, vinegar-doused dish of Portuguese origin) or chicken curry. The toddy (a mildly alcoholic fermented beverage made of fresh palm sap) used to ferment the batter lends the dish a delicate sweetness.
In Ramassery, a village in the Palakkad district of Kerala, four families have elevated the everyday process of making idlis into something of an art form. Made by the Mudaliar community of weavers who migrated from Thanjavur in Tamil Nadu, Ramassery idlis are renowned for their unique texture and flavour.
“Made with rice sourced from Palakkad, the idlis are cooked over a muslin-covered earthen pot, and demoulded using special leaves that impart a subtle fragrance to the idlis,” explained chef Regi Mathew, one of the founders of the restaurant Kappa Chakka Kandhari in Chennai, which focuses on home-style recipes from Kerala. “The batter, made with rice, black gram, fenugreek and sea salt, is poured onto a muslin cloth that has been placed on the mouth of an earthen pot and steamed,” he said..
In Tamil Nadu, idlis are also made as a divine offering. The Kanchipuram idli, spiced with cumin, pepper, ginger powder and asafoetida, is traditionally prepared as a temple food.
In recent years, idlis made of oats, quinoa and barley have become popular to suit dietary preferences. There are also quirky takes on this classic, such as those popularized by M Eniyavan, popularly known as Idli Man. An auto driver-turned-cook, Eniyavan runs a restaurant called Mallipoo Idli in Chennai. He claims to have created more than 2,000 varieties of idlis, including a pizza idli and a chocolate idli.
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Over the ages, the labour-intensive process of grinding idli batter has been transformed and simplified. My mother used to grind the flour in an attukal or a traditional grinding stone with a pit in the middle, and a kuzhavi or cylindrical stone to do the work of grinding. It was back-breaking work, and as kids, we were employed to help shift the grains towards the centre of the attukal. Later, there came stores that would take your rice and dal mixture and grind it for a small fee.
The advent of the electric mixer offered hope but the results much to be desired. Soon, the wet grinder with a stone and drum was invented and produced a satisfactory batter. Today, we have sleek, table top wet grinders, which do the trick while not occupying too much space.
However, many families now opt for the convenience of ready-to-cook idli batter, packaged and sold by several companies.
As popular in restaurants as they are in homes, idlis are versatile and lend themselves to a variety of preparations. Their ubiquity makes it tempting to think of them as an equaliser of sorts. But Tamil writer V Mathimaran has pointed out how this staple varies based on who is eating it. Mathimaran wrote in 2018: “Oppressed classes, since they are mostly workers and labourers, consume thick and big idlis to get high nutrition. But, the elite class consume only soft and light idlis as they are supervisors and are in authority.”
Even though they are a favourite among vegetarians, idlis are paired just as often with chicken, mutton or fish curries. Popular all over peninsular India, they tell the story of how one dish with unclear origins can serve as a symbol of cultural diversity..