Rediscovering one’s hometown through a few romantic culinary adventures
Words by Lakshmi Krishnakumar; Art by Javed Imthiaz
I cleaved the mussel shell apart; the rice flour filling the cavity of the shell was crisp-fried on the outside but revealed a half-cooked mass inside, spiced with chillis and fenugreek, with a stray curry leaf, and, of course, the mussel pod lacing. A bit of the ocean engulfed by the fruits of the monsoon and the fields. Behind me, the ocean lashed its waves on the beach. It was close to dusk. Kids played on the sand or sucked slices of pickled mangoes and papayas. Middle-aged women in headscarves stood by small carts selling paper-cups filled with shaved ice, topped with tutty-fruity and honey, which would soon melt in the setting sun. Kozhikode (a city in the coastal state of Kerala in south India) lay out all her glory in the evening.
The musliyar called out from the mosque and clouds gathered over the Arabian Sea. My kalumakkai nirachathu (stuffed mussel) lay prised apart in my palms. As I bit into it, the spiciness brought to me our conversations of why I would love Kozhikode. For its food.
