Photos by Host, Hanish, Co-Host, Deepthi, and Member, Badri.
HOST
CO-HOST
Interesting takeaways for me included that Vathal can be eaten as a snack and that Bamboo Rice is a thing, and quite tasty!
Deepthi
It was such a lovely event. Thanks to everybody for bringing your love for food and precious insights on ingredients.
Saritha
It was lovely to meet,eat, and vibe. The host and the ambience was superb!
Chitra
Members diving into the Know Your Desi Ingredient bingo—a game that had everyone scanning their cards for prompts drawn from the day’s conversations, dishes, and ingredient discoveries.
Bamboo Rice, a hearty, nutty dish made using moongilarisi, the rare seeds of flowering bamboo. Cooked here with vegetables and mild spices, this desi ingredient has a chewy texture and a subtle, earthy sweetness.
The Know Your Desi Ingredient swap table, where members exchanged small portions of local ingredients to take home and cook with. Wild greens, heirloom grains, and handmade pickles, turned the table into a vibrant exchange of stories and curiosity.
MEET YOUR HOST
What does local mean to you?
Shanmugam theru (street). I stay in a neighbourhood called Tambaram, and groceries and produce (even coffee powder) have been synonymous with the local market in my family for several generations. Despite grocery apps, I prefer to shop for all my greens at the market, which, fortunately, is always fresh, walkable, and accessible. The market starts early, and at its peak is always bustling with people and activity. One needs to be there to make sense of the sheer abundance of the space. The Tambaram market is currently selling jamuns, mangoes of all sorts, and ice apples—all of which are in season. This is what local feels like to me—generationally present and perennially fresh.
I often have trouble recollecting memories, but one worth mentioning is the food I discovered and shared with a friend who is an environmental educator and urban forager. We were in North Madras, looking at the foodways of the Tamil Burmese community, when a visit to Vyasarpadi took us to the home of a lady who sells prawn vadais, where we also got to taste Burmese fish kozhumbu. My friend and I exchanged reflections on life—our ambitions and hopes—with the lady and her grandmother, who was frying vadais as we spoke. It filled and grounded me at the same time.
Elli Poochi, or sand/mole crab, which is found on the beach here. One Sunday, at around 8 pm, after a few games at the beach, we arrived at an unremarkable, narrow street, lined with tables serving fried seafood. Poochi literally means insect, and though I was apprehensive at first, the crab (which was tiny), was packed with flavour, crunch and, interestingly, chenna masala. What made this special was not just the unfamiliarity of the dish but the events that led me to that moment.
Rasam, especially galangal or chithrathai rasam when I have a cold or fever. Or dal with angaaya podi—a mixture of powdered ginger and garlic—served with mushy rice and ghee. Alternatively, a guaranteed fix (for the most part) is horsegram rasam mixed with rice and sesame oil.
My hope is that it produces community and expands to spaces that have long been ignored and avoided in Chennai. Currently, we see a focus on South Chennai, the East Coast Road, or the Old Mahabalipuram Road. Ideally, we would go beyond that and build thriving communities with individuals across the city, making our collective urban experience less lonely and more flavourful.