The once-sedate curd-rice capital of the world is spicing up its palate to keep up with the changing times and tastes
From every street corner of Chennai, you can hear the sounds of kettledrums beating a retreat in the evenings. Kothu parotta-makers play a tattoo on their griddles, chopping the stuffed parottas into bite-sized chunks. Biryani barons strike their metal ladles against the gigantic, round aluminum dekchis. They serve the highly-spiced meal-in-one amalgam of rice and meat from tin plates, which they scrape into a neat mound. They place a boiled egg at the centre and add a dollop of onion and curd relish, or pachadi, to wash the whole thing down. It?s the favourite meal of late-night commuters, either those getting ready for an all-night stint at a BPO, or those waiting to get home. At KFC, the Valhalla of chicken fanciers, the longest queues for their rice-and-chicken-nugget-specials are from well-heeled working women taking home a packet for dinner.
The once-sedate curd-rice capital of the world is going carnivorous in as many ways as one can spell ?Hyderabadi briyani?. Yes, briyani?that?s how biryani is spelt down south. There are hotly-contested variations on its provenance from Dindigul and Ambur to Chettinad, besides Calicut (now Kozhikode) from the other side of the coast. Each of these authentic biryani preparations is said to have been inspired by Hyder Ali, or his son Tipu Sultan, the ?Tiger of Mysore?, who may or may not have visited some or all of these places. When all else fails, there?s always mummy, as in Ammi?s Biryani, or various uncles and aunts who are celebrated under different guises such as Annachi, Amma?s Mess and even one curiously-named, but highly popular, Shanghai Annachi.
The latest entrant in the field, Ammi?s Biryani, includes vegetarian options such as a ?Paneer Soya Biryani? and an ?Aloo Channa Biryani?. The joint spells biryani right, which makes one wonder whether it is really from the south, or just a pretender riding in from where Tipu Sultan left off. Best of all, Ammi?s Biryani does home deliveries and, to keep up with the global challenge, also clues you into the match dates of the Fifa World Cup, so that you can cheer your favourite team while tucking into a combo meal.
In the old days when Chennai was still just a village by the sea, Udupi Hotel was the fermented-rice-and-lentil-batter standard. People indulged their gastronomic preferences by singing praises of the fineness of an idli, the crispness of a well-made dosa, the exact degree of a coffee and, irrespective of their age, community or status, ended their day at the most famous of them, Drive-In Woodlands, which has now vanished into the sunset. There was a particular lingo that linked the servers with the served. ?Two-in-one? indicated one cup of coffee shared by two individuals, usually a romantic couple. Parents often consulted the bearers on whether the match would be suitable, depending on how often the ?two-in-ones? met at Drive-In. Cash-strapped college-goers would go in for a ?three-in-one? and so forth.
The waiters were all called thambis, or brothers. Today, you have to peer at the plastic name tags pinned on to the T-shirts of the servers, whether men or women, and address them by their names. They parrot various phrases by rote, such as ?have a nice day?, which is the verbal equivalent of ?life sucks and so do you?. The thambis, on the other hand, were your friends for life and would lend a shoulder, the one on which they always carried a fresh ?comtrust? towel, for you to weep on, should the occasion present itself.
One of the most persistent myths of the Chennai dining circuit is how the now-famous superstar Rajinikanth, or Rajini Sir as he is universally known, would frequent the dining room of a restaurant near Gemini?s Corner and stare moodily into his drink and reflect on the darker side of life. Bars are the never-to-be-spoken-of underside of the city?s nightlife. Buharis, one of the most famous of the bar-cum-restaurants, where Chicken 65 is said to have originated, had the darkest of dark havens?even the owner wore dark glasses while sitting at the till. This must surely be why wearing designer shades or sunglasses is de riguer for those who want to enter a nightclub or bar. Here, too, there are short-hand codes, such as thani adikar, which translates into having a tot of water in a metal container, or the famous Madras Club moniker, ?Iyengar soda?, served traditionally in silver tumblers?revealing the essential politeness of the south Indian way of life.
Now, the jargon is to ask for a ?combo?, which could mean a fizzy drink of the sort you would never pay for, but which they serve you in a styrofoam cup because the promoters insist they must be sold. Or the add-ons: limp French fries, another international code name for potato fingers, or cigarettes, chips, wedgies, or juliennes?depending upon which culinary term you happen to recognise.
A cold drink is known as a mush, a slush, a fizzy, or a frooty combo that could mean anything from a papaya paired with beetroot juice and then known as a hush, or health drink.
Going back to the biryani brigade, those in the know ask for a ?bada? as against a ?chota?, which is the short form for saying: ?where?s the beef?? That is, a beef biryani, instead of a mutton one. Of course, no one would dream of asking for a ?buff?.
It?s not all about beef or mutton biryani, though. Ever since the Koreans and Japanese came, there has been a surge in the number of fish shops. Sushi can be bought online.
With Ramzan around the corner, the latest sign is for rotisseries, shawarma grills and kebabs turning their wares for their customers.
Geeta Doctor is a Chennai-based writer