Food Musings From India
#3: A Classical Analysis of ‘Kasi Halwa’
While homes are measured in square footage,
My home in the city of my birth
was neither square, nor had footage.
Narrow in length and no breadth
to speak of.A single cylinder gas stove
placed precariously in one corner.
Pots and pans too,
just the bare stuff
in a tin trunk.
Father, mother
and a son
with no room to map,
but so much love to snack
that my cousins and friends wanted a piece of it
by sitting on each other’s lap.To taste the world’s best halwa,
that she promised to make to accompany every joy
and failure,
made on the single cylinder gas stove.
Only the hands of love
could ever delicately craft this delicacy
in
the size of kitchen
that nobody desired.The pots and pans stir my memories.
That boring old fruit,
sitting beside a cup of sugar,
like lovers they will unite and the wait will soon
be over.One will have to endure the passionate heat,
and the stir of her wooden spoon,
for “it’s all in the stirring”, said she.
As she flips and tosses the mud-bath,
getting browner with every toss,
the smell of clarified butter rise and roam,
eventually reaching every nook and corner of our terraced home.The cardamom pods, the coconut shreds and the sunny raisins
are thrown in with pride and honor.
The taste is tested,
with a final touch,
that is the generous sprinkle of cardamom,
the world’s best halwa is served.What about her promise?
Who will make the halwa now?
And on whose lap do I sit on?
She said she will send some kaju katli,
but I get those here.
I just want her halwa, only her halwa…
One crisp Saturday in the middle of January…
(standup comedy playing)
The sound of audience laughing blared from the television screen. My cousin paused the video and suggested in an assertive tone, “Let’s check if there’s live show today”.
While I thought about it, it being the prospect of us going to the show, he checked on bookmyshow and commented, “nope, not this weekend”.
I started to wonder, “how about a carnatic night?”. Classical music is hugely celebrated in South India during December and January.
The idea was well received.
He said, “If Sid Sriram or Bombay Jayasri (popular carnatic singers and well received by the modern day crowd) are doing a show tonight, we’re going.”
15 minutes later we were on our way in my activa (scooter-bike).
“Its just what we needed, the entire street is jam-packed” I started to grumble.
“Well, that’s carnatic night in Madras for you”, he responded.
“Are you actually hopeful that we’ll get tickets to his concert?” I asked in a bemused tone.
“Of course, not”, he said, almost as a reflex, with a deadpan face.
“Then, why are we parking?” I shot back.
“Let’s, at least, check this place out”, he nudged.
With interest starting to slowly fade away as we inch our way through the jam-packed street, he cheered, “There’s another entrance. Let’s check it out.”
We pushed past the gate and stepped into a lounge-like area with plastic chairs and tables arranged as you’d expect to see in a restaurant.
“This is a sweet deal”, I thought, “You can hear the music here, as it echoed for free, and there’s food to snack on.”
“People inside are not allowed to eat right?”, I chortled.
Just then, one of the caterers stepped forward and gushed, “Food’s ready. We’re serving today ‘vazhaipoo vadai’ (banana blossom fritters), ‘urulaikizhangu bonda’ (deep-fried potato dumpling), and ‘kasi halwa’ (white pumpkin halwa)”.
My cousin’s face suddenly lit up and he exclaimed, “Change of plans. We’re going to do a bit of food exploration today”.
Coz why not?
I got excited at the prospect of ‘kasi halwa’. It’s one dish that you don’t get to see outside of a traditional South Indian wedding breakfast. I wonder why that is.
This ghee-dripping, nostalgia-oozing, yellow colored goodness is a delicacy to relish. One of the foremost things that intrigued me about this dish was its name. Till date, no one knows for certain why is it called ‘kasi halwa’. I’ve come across 3 theories so far. First theory is actually my friend’s response to the said question. He said, “Since it tastes heavenly, it’s named after the heavenly city of Kashi”, which made me question our friendship.
Second theory is that according to the South Indian wedding tradition, the groom pretends to leave for Kashi city to become a scholar and the bride’s father stops him and enlightens him about the second stage of life, which is the marriage and supposedly the path to salvation. This ritual is called ‘Kashi Yatra’. As part of this ritual, the groom is fed with white pumpkin halwa and the name stems from this ritual.
The final theory is that the name is derived from the Hindi word for white pumpkin, ‘kashi-phal’. Whichever theory suits your personality, you can stick to it. ‘Kasi halwa’ is a dish that screams inclusivity. There should be no one left behind.
While re-engineering the recipe of this dish, I noticed that there could be countless varieties of ‘kasi halwa’. Starting with its color, depending on whether or not you add food color, it could be golden yellow or yellowish red. While the recipe typically calls for ghee as a base, I’ve come across a variant made with coconut oil. This is precisely why this dessert is beginner friendly to cook. The room for improvisation is abundant here. As another example, while the recipe doesn’t call for milk, it could be added to cook the pumpkin. It gives the dish a pudding-like texture.
Edible camphor is another ingredient which could be used as a tool of improvisation. The aroma of camphor is quite nostalgic to me. It takes me back to my early days when a visit to the temple, where the smell of camphor is prominent in the air, was part of my everyday agenda. Its like hitting a rewind button of my childhood tape.
By the time Sid Sriram started another song, we were on our way to the next joint.
As long as the earth grows,
and the flagrant breeze flows,
to say without a word,
and if there’s something to be said,
then hold it in the third,
if you wish to stay together, and your love to be heard.
