Tuesday, April 28, 2020
Sunday, April 5, 2020
Road Less Travelled
My take as a travel writer in the time of a pandemic in The Morning Standard of The New Indian Express 4th April 2020
https://www.newindianexpress.com/lifestyle/travel/2020/apr/04/thinking-about-the-roads-less-travelled-during-coronavirus-lockdown-2125458.html
Sanna—The idli’s fairer cousin!
A savoury-sweet Goan and Mangalorean rice cake and idli-lookalike, the sanna is delicious duality at its best, evoking fond childhood memories of Lent.
By Raul Dias
One of the greatest joys of being a child is that intoxicating cocktail wherein a dash of hope is blended with a healthy dose of anticipation of almost anything! Two very pertinent emotions that all of us are grappling with in these dark days of extended social distancing, self-isolation and Sunday masses that stream online.
Will all be well before Easter Sunday, exactly a week from today? Will our dining tables literally groan under the weight of all those perennial Easter goodies like always? Sadly, the answer this year has never been a more resounding “NO”. But where’s the harm in a bit of vicarious feasting, right?
Growing up in a devoutly Catholic household, hope and anticipation of the edible kind were in ample supply for us kids, all through this ongoing 40-day period of Lent. Beginning with ‘Fat Tuesday’ where we gorged ourselves silly on white crêpe-like pancakes made of flour and eggs, their portly bellies stuffed with a lurid pink sweet coconut filling. Little did we know then that the white pancake signified the body of Christ and the pink stuffing, his blood. But morbidity aside, it was always the food, pre-, during and post-Lent that was much anticipated.
And one such Lenten delicacy always found sitting higgledy-piggledy atop each other on our dining table was the sweet-savoury steamed rice cake called sanna. With Mum not very well-versed in the art of making sannas, we’d always (and still do) rely on the skills of Rosy Aunty here at home in Mumbai for our almost quotidien Lenten supply.
Also known as ‘idli wali Aunty’ by her rather clueless Maharashtrian neighbours for whom an idli and a sanna are “same-same”, the octogenarian Rosy Britto has been making sannas for as long as she can remember. Her bifocal spectacle lenses perpetually fogged up by the plume of steam issuing forth from her faithful copper sanna steamer called a chondro in Goa and tondor in Mangalore.
Not same, just different
Often mistaken for an idli, a sanna is a Goan-Mangalorean festive delicacy made from a fermented mixture of fat-grained parboiled rice, coconut, sugar, salt and that all-important leavening agent of the sap of the coconut palm that is colloquially known as ‘toddy’ or sur in Konkani. Though many these days prefer to substitute the hard-to-procure toddy with dry yeast granules. This, much to the chagrin of any true-blue Goan or Mangalorean foodie like yours truly who craves that slightly fermented, sweet-musty taste brought on only by coconut toddy.
This use of toddy is also one of the main differences of a sanna vis-à-vis an idli, where urad dal (black gram) is used in the latter’s fermentation. Though, I do believe that there are versions of the sanna, both in Goa and Mangalore, that are known to use white urad dal. Forsaking an idli steamer for a funnel-topped chondro steamer, a sanna is always spooned into small, steel vatis (bowls) also called gindlaan in Mangalore which give it its round, cake-like shape as opposed to an idli’s convex contours.
Texturally speaking, a sanna is much spongier, with a glossy white countenance as opposed to an idli’s granular crumb. Though often the red Goan parboiled rice we call ukda tandul in Konkani imparts a few tiny red flecks onto a sanna’s surface. Its accompaniments too are very different from those of an idli. No chutneys or sambar here!
With or without?
Like a few others I know, I have always liked to eat a sanna by itself, sans any savoury or sweet accompaniment. But I must admit to several rather unsuccessful pairing attempts over the years with everything from Nutella to BBQ sauce. As a child, I’ve even once convinced our cook to deep fry a few bits of stale sannas to disastrous results, with the porous rice cake retaining oil like the Hoover Dam does water!
But for most, the duo of sanna ani dukramaas (pork meat) is what is considered the ultimate way to relish this rice cake. While a rich, fiery red pork stew called sorpotel is the de facto plate fellow in Goa, in Mangalore the preferred accompaniment is a robustly spiced pork bafat, with the curry’s spiciness often tempered down with the addition of a little roce (thin coconut milk).
For sweet lovers like me, there is even a dedicated sweet iteration of the sanna called godachi sanna that is made with jaggery and best enjoyed at tea time. Interestingly, just like the steamed rice and milk dish called kiri-bhat in Sri Lanka and Kerala’s bamboo-steamed coconut and rice cake puttu, sannas crushed with a little milk, sugar and ghee are often fed to infants as their first solid meal.
As I put my finishing touches to this piece, a little ray of hope beams its way down to me in the form of a reply to a panic-tinged text message I had sent out to someone important a few hours ago. “Yes, you’ll get your dozen sannas this year, too!” Rosy Aunty reassures me, as I smile to myself in relief, hope and anticipation of that one constant.
SUNDAY RECIPE
Sanna
INGREDIENTS:
Parboiled Goan red rice (ukda tandul) 1 cup
Fresh coconut (scraped) ½ cup
Coconut toddy 1.5 cups
Granulated sugar 4 tbsp
Salt 1 tsp
METHOD:
1. Soak the rice in water overnight
2. The next day, after draining the rice, grind it along with half a cup of toddy for a few seconds. Add another half cup of toddy along with sugar and salt and grind till the mixture resembles a coarse slurry.
3. Now add in the grated coconut and the remaining half cup of toddy. Grind for a few seconds more. Adjust sugar and salt, if needed.
4. Transfer to a non-metallic container and cover with a damp muslin cloth. Allow to stand in a cool, dark place for a few hours till the batter doubles up in volume.
5. Spoon the batter into 12-14 lightly oiled small steel vatis (bowls), making sure to not fill to the top as the batter will rise again while steaming.
6. Place the vatis in a steamer. Cover and steam for around 20 minutes or until a skewer poked in the center of the vati comes out clean.
7. Unmould the sannas immediately and place them in a serving dish lined with a damp muslin cloth or oiled banana leaves.
8. Serve sannas piping hot, either on their own or with curry.
By Raul Dias
One of the greatest joys of being a child is that intoxicating cocktail wherein a dash of hope is blended with a healthy dose of anticipation of almost anything! Two very pertinent emotions that all of us are grappling with in these dark days of extended social distancing, self-isolation and Sunday masses that stream online.
Will all be well before Easter Sunday, exactly a week from today? Will our dining tables literally groan under the weight of all those perennial Easter goodies like always? Sadly, the answer this year has never been a more resounding “NO”. But where’s the harm in a bit of vicarious feasting, right?
Growing up in a devoutly Catholic household, hope and anticipation of the edible kind were in ample supply for us kids, all through this ongoing 40-day period of Lent. Beginning with ‘Fat Tuesday’ where we gorged ourselves silly on white crêpe-like pancakes made of flour and eggs, their portly bellies stuffed with a lurid pink sweet coconut filling. Little did we know then that the white pancake signified the body of Christ and the pink stuffing, his blood. But morbidity aside, it was always the food, pre-, during and post-Lent that was much anticipated.
And one such Lenten delicacy always found sitting higgledy-piggledy atop each other on our dining table was the sweet-savoury steamed rice cake called sanna. With Mum not very well-versed in the art of making sannas, we’d always (and still do) rely on the skills of Rosy Aunty here at home in Mumbai for our almost quotidien Lenten supply.
Also known as ‘idli wali Aunty’ by her rather clueless Maharashtrian neighbours for whom an idli and a sanna are “same-same”, the octogenarian Rosy Britto has been making sannas for as long as she can remember. Her bifocal spectacle lenses perpetually fogged up by the plume of steam issuing forth from her faithful copper sanna steamer called a chondro in Goa and tondor in Mangalore.
Not same, just different
Often mistaken for an idli, a sanna is a Goan-Mangalorean festive delicacy made from a fermented mixture of fat-grained parboiled rice, coconut, sugar, salt and that all-important leavening agent of the sap of the coconut palm that is colloquially known as ‘toddy’ or sur in Konkani. Though many these days prefer to substitute the hard-to-procure toddy with dry yeast granules. This, much to the chagrin of any true-blue Goan or Mangalorean foodie like yours truly who craves that slightly fermented, sweet-musty taste brought on only by coconut toddy.
This use of toddy is also one of the main differences of a sanna vis-à-vis an idli, where urad dal (black gram) is used in the latter’s fermentation. Though, I do believe that there are versions of the sanna, both in Goa and Mangalore, that are known to use white urad dal. Forsaking an idli steamer for a funnel-topped chondro steamer, a sanna is always spooned into small, steel vatis (bowls) also called gindlaan in Mangalore which give it its round, cake-like shape as opposed to an idli’s convex contours.
Texturally speaking, a sanna is much spongier, with a glossy white countenance as opposed to an idli’s granular crumb. Though often the red Goan parboiled rice we call ukda tandul in Konkani imparts a few tiny red flecks onto a sanna’s surface. Its accompaniments too are very different from those of an idli. No chutneys or sambar here!
With or without?
Like a few others I know, I have always liked to eat a sanna by itself, sans any savoury or sweet accompaniment. But I must admit to several rather unsuccessful pairing attempts over the years with everything from Nutella to BBQ sauce. As a child, I’ve even once convinced our cook to deep fry a few bits of stale sannas to disastrous results, with the porous rice cake retaining oil like the Hoover Dam does water!
But for most, the duo of sanna ani dukramaas (pork meat) is what is considered the ultimate way to relish this rice cake. While a rich, fiery red pork stew called sorpotel is the de facto plate fellow in Goa, in Mangalore the preferred accompaniment is a robustly spiced pork bafat, with the curry’s spiciness often tempered down with the addition of a little roce (thin coconut milk).
For sweet lovers like me, there is even a dedicated sweet iteration of the sanna called godachi sanna that is made with jaggery and best enjoyed at tea time. Interestingly, just like the steamed rice and milk dish called kiri-bhat in Sri Lanka and Kerala’s bamboo-steamed coconut and rice cake puttu, sannas crushed with a little milk, sugar and ghee are often fed to infants as their first solid meal.
As I put my finishing touches to this piece, a little ray of hope beams its way down to me in the form of a reply to a panic-tinged text message I had sent out to someone important a few hours ago. “Yes, you’ll get your dozen sannas this year, too!” Rosy Aunty reassures me, as I smile to myself in relief, hope and anticipation of that one constant.
SUNDAY RECIPE
Sanna
INGREDIENTS:
Parboiled Goan red rice (ukda tandul) 1 cup
Fresh coconut (scraped) ½ cup
Coconut toddy 1.5 cups
Granulated sugar 4 tbsp
Salt 1 tsp
METHOD:
1. Soak the rice in water overnight
2. The next day, after draining the rice, grind it along with half a cup of toddy for a few seconds. Add another half cup of toddy along with sugar and salt and grind till the mixture resembles a coarse slurry.
3. Now add in the grated coconut and the remaining half cup of toddy. Grind for a few seconds more. Adjust sugar and salt, if needed.
4. Transfer to a non-metallic container and cover with a damp muslin cloth. Allow to stand in a cool, dark place for a few hours till the batter doubles up in volume.
5. Spoon the batter into 12-14 lightly oiled small steel vatis (bowls), making sure to not fill to the top as the batter will rise again while steaming.
6. Place the vatis in a steamer. Cover and steam for around 20 minutes or until a skewer poked in the center of the vati comes out clean.
7. Unmould the sannas immediately and place them in a serving dish lined with a damp muslin cloth or oiled banana leaves.
8. Serve sannas piping hot, either on their own or with curry.
(An edited version of this article first appeared in the 5th April 2020 issue of The Hindu newspaper's Sunday Magazine section on page 8 https://www.thehindu.com/life-and-style/food/sanna-idlis-festive-cousin/article31247135.ece)
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