At Pappadam, A Boat Trip down the Konkan & Malabar Coasts

It takes me back to a night in Panaji: I am sitting in our room in a heritage Portuguese villa, mopping up Mangalorean chicken sukkha with some stale pao. Aninda has turned off the tube-lights and lit two candles. In the dull gold shimmer, the room reverberates with shadows. Humidity, drunk with the scent of rain and sea, perfumes the air. On my tongue is a bite-sized piece of chicken. The semi-dry gravy is mostly grated coconut, its texture somewhat coarse, like that of reluctant velvet. It has been lightly fried with roasted spices and dried red chillies; the heat is enticing. It pops like starbursts upon my taste buds. We eat in silence, both of us using pieces of pao as boats for the chicken, for the gravy. We are so engrossed in the food, tasting for the first time the culinary nuances of ingredients used in kitchens on the Konkan coast, that we hardly notice how romantic the monsoon evening is.

Coconut is one of the most versatile of ingredients. Grated, it adds texture. Grind it with spices or cook it with sugar, and it makes for an excellent base. Coconut milk is known for its mildness; it adds a silky, full-bodied flavour to any dish. In coastal India where coconuts are abundant, they are an integral part of the cuisine and Pappadam, in its bid to treat Kolkatans to recipes from India’s western coast, uses the nut (or, is it a fruit?) with dexterity. The Mangalorean-style Chicken Sukka arrives on a banana leaf placed upon a plate. The coconut, ground coarsely with spices and fried with curry leaves, is fragrant and complements well the succulent pieces of chicken slathered with it. Notes of sourness tease the mild coconut; the bitterness of fenugreek, the tingling heat of black peppercorns, the distinctive aroma of curry leaves, and a hint of citrus from the coriander seeds add to the complexity. On the side are appams— crisp along the edges and spongy in the middle— and a plate a 4 neer dosas folded into neat triangles.

The 26-cover eatery is located within the premises of a traditional 20th-century Bengali-style house near Mudiali Club. The walls have been painted a bright yellow and are decorated with Pappadam’s brand-image, a vibrantly painted bull, and an illustrated map of the Malabar and Konkan coasts. The tables flaunt faux ceramic tiles that reminds one of Goa’s famed azulejos tiles. On the window sills are vintage items like a wooden box filled with potpourri. The restaurant takes its name from one of India’s most famous exports, the humble Pappadam, a thin disc made of lentil and fried till crispy. At Pappadam, they are complimentary and come with a salt-cured dried red chilli which is, by itself, quite innovative.

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The flavours of the spicy chicken sukka and the creamy vegetable Chettinad balance well the fermented sweetness of the appam batter and the lightness of the neer dosas. The neer dosas, unlike their fermented rice and lentil counterparts, aren’t crispy. They are slightly moist, and fluffy with a pockmarked surface. Made with just two ingredients, rice flour and water, they add a distinctive texture to whatever accompanies them without ruffling up or adding another layer of taste. On the other hand, the appams— or, hoppers as some call them— command you to recognize their mellow sweetness. Dipped in the Chettinad curry that is cooked with cashew paste and coconut milk, the appams are delightful. Traditionally, the Chettiars, from whom Chettinad cuisine gets its name, traded in spices and their food featured spices like the Tellicherry pepper, cardamom from Sri Lanka, cloves from Madagascar, and cardamom from the isles of Indonesia. The curry, cooked with a plethora of vegetables like carrots, green peas, cauliflower florets, and green beans is aromatic: You can smell the roasted spices in the coconut milk.

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But despite its delicious meat and vegetable offering, what Pappadam specializes in is seafood. Squids, crabs, prawns, and fish cooked in styles ranging from Tamilian Chettinad to Mangalorean Ghee-roast feature on the menu. The Squid Kali Mirch is the perfect appetizer. Battered fried squids seasoned with crushed black peppercorns and tossed with ginger, garlic, bell peppers and onion are served with a squeeze of lime. They look like squiggly rice crackers but beneath the crispy coating, the seafood is tender and juicy. It was one of our favourite squid dishes! However, the Butter Garlic Crab– we ordered it shelled– is a tad disappointing. Overdone in both the butter and garlic departments, the crabmeat is somewhat stringy and lacks its characteristic sweet freshness. Perhaps we will order the Crab Mangalorean Ghee Roast the next time, and we will order it in the shell to up the drama!

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Much like the papaddam or the papad, the accompaniment, that has taken on an identity of its own, Pappadam too is trying to leave a signature trail on the city’s palate. The items are surprisingly authentic; the cooks at Pappadam don’t try too hard to please the local tastes and perhaps it is this boldness that is welcoming to the city folks who flock the eatery to experience South Indian food that goes beyond dosa-idli-vada-sambar. The food at Pappadam calls you on a ride down the Malabar and Konkan coasts. Leave all apprehensions at the door and dig into the spicy, coconut-laced curries.

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