My mother cradled two newborns in her arms in 1955. One was her last child (myself) and the other was her first book. It was a cookbook in Malayalam, titled Pachaka Kala (The Art of Cooking). Amma went on to write 23 more cookbooks, five of which were in English, over the next 40 years. She also wrote three travelogues and a book on hair care, and edited the women’s magazine Vanitha for 25 years. The book in your hands, Mrs KM Mathew’s Finest Recipes, has been published 20 years after she left this world in 2003.

She left me more than a thousand recipes which she had collected, discovered or created. Amma had written her first cookery column on doughnuts, two years before I was born. It was published in the Malayala Manorama newspaper on May 30, 1953, along with her recipe for Goan Prawn Curry. These appeared under the name Mrs Annamma Mathew, and she became fairly well-known after a column on Mutton Bafath. Her popularity multiplied after she started using the name Mrs KM Mathew. This lucky name change was her own idea and she hardly ever used the name Annamma anywhere again.

It was my grandfather, KC Mammen Mappillai, who had spotted her talent while he was visiting my parents in Byculla, Bombay, and asked her to write a column in his newspaper. Fortunately, Amma was familiar with the varied tastes of India. Her parents were from Kerala, but she was born and brought up in faraway Kakinada, Andhra Pradesh, where her father was a doctor. He loved making chicken soup (he had made it even on the day he died, at the age of 93) and her mother loved cooking Kerala’s Syrian-Christian dishes. The neighbourhood was redolent with the scents of Tamil and Telugu food. Amma had always been partial to Tamil dishes, right from childhood till long after her college days in Madurai. It was later that she developed a love for Kannadiga delicacies in Chikmagalur, where my parents lived in a coffee estate in the first few years of their marriage. Then they moved to Bombay, and this was where she learnt to cook a variety of local, north Indian and continental dishes.

Amma had another advantage – she spoke fluent English, a gift not so common among Indian women in those days. This helped her enter the kitchens of even the most elite hotels, where she would never shy away from asking for recipes or other cooking advice from the chefs. Amma did it with natural grace, whether she was in India or travelling to other countries, in her forties. She was inspired to share the art of cooking for the sheer enjoyment of delicious food. She did not even recommend any complex or elaborate recipes to her readers because, for her, simplicity and taste came before novelty. She even avoided using words like “foodie” and “cuisine”. “Simple good food” was her motto.

She wrote her recipes early in the morning, after waking up at 3 am. No recipe made it to her column before she had tested it at least three times. My father always got the first chance to taste it and to give feedback. Amma made sure she bought all the ingredients herself and measured them precisely. In the early years, she would use cigarette tins as measuring cups and gradually she accumulated all the paraphernalia, including a mallet from abroad for tenderising the meat. When fair reviews of her books appeared in the press, she was ecstatic.

Food was sacred for Amma. She never wasted it. If there was anything left over, she would make a delicious new dish out of it. She always taught us to respect food and forbade shop talk at the dinner table at our home in Roopkala, Kottayam, Kerala. All she wanted was for everyone to enjoy good food.

Far from secretive, she took joy in sharing her recipes with everyone. In fact, sometimes she would send the recipe along with the food she sent to her friends and acquaintances and if they ever faced a problem cooking it, she would even send her trained cook to demonstrate the cooking procedure. Whoever visited Amma, she always gave out a packet of crisp savouries for them to take home. Her wedding gift to her acquaintances was invariably a bundle of her cookbooks. Even today, many people in India and abroad tell me that Amma’s book Nadan Pachakarama was like the Bible to them when they had just started their married life and were learning to cook.

Even when she was in a wheelchair, in her twilight years, she remained engaged and active. When not cooking, she was often found reading books, appreciating art, singing songs, playing the violin, teaching music, raising funds for charity, guiding women’s organisations, or supervising work at Vanitha. As a mother, she practised tough love, with a heart that remained tender inside. This book carries the essence of her soul.

– Thangam Mammen.

Coconut rice

Rice is cooked in coconut milk and then garnished with roasted coconut.

Serves: Four

Ingredients:
Basmati rice: 2 cups
Coconut, grated: 1⁄4 cup
Coconut milk: 5 cups
Ghee: 1⁄4 cup
Salt: 1 tsp

Method

1. Soak rice in water for 15 minutes. Wash it well and drain out the water.
2. In a heavy-bottomed pan, heat ghee. Fry the washed rice in it till it turns light brown in colour.
3. Then add coconut milk and bring it to a boil. Add salt, and leave to simmer on a low flame till the coconut milk is absorbed and the rice is well-cooked.
4. In a separate pan, lightly roast grated coconut for garnishing.
5. Transfer the cooked rice to a serving dish and garnish with the roasted coconut. Serve hot.

Achappam

Sweet and crispy deep-fried cookies made with rice flour and coconut milk.

Yields: 30

Ingredients:

Raw rice: 3 cups
Water: 5 cups
Coconut milk: 2 cups
Eggs, whisked: 2
Sugar: 2 tsp
Salt to taste
Sesame seeds: 2 tsp
Cumin seeds: 1 tsp
Coconut oil or refined vegetable oil for deep-frying
Achappam mould

Method:

1. Soak the rice in water for 4 hours. Drain and transfer to a liquidiser.
2. Add coconut milk in small quantities alternating between the beaten eggs, sugar and salt, and grind to make a very thin batter. Pour this into a vessel. Add sesame seeds and cumin seeds.
3. Heat oil in a wok and dip the achappam mould in it.
4. Dip the hot mould in the batter ensuring not to immerse it completely.
5. Dip the mould coated with batter rapidly in hot oil. Lift the mould from oil after the cookie separates from it.
6. The achappam will float freely in the oil. Turn over and fry till golden brown on both sides. Drain off the excess oil and place the achappams on a kitchen tissue. Store in an airtight container.

Note: Excess sugar in the batter will make the achappam stick to the mould.

Excerpted with permission from Mrs KM Mathew’s Finest Recipes, Penguin India.