Sambhar – the curry and its origins
The other day, we discussed the origins of Idli, and a few
days later, I came across a different version of Rasam, popularized by a
well-known wedding caterer, cook, chef, and restaurateur, Nataraja Iyer, which
turned out quite good. (However, it should be even better with less jaggery
next time.) This indicates that every basic recipe evolves over time, resulting in numerous variations, with each person having their own favorite. The same is true
for Sambhar; there are different versions for special occasions, simpler
powder-based recipes, and of course, the one we make in Palghat—the aracha or
ground Sambhar. When it comes to ready-made powders, there are many
options—spicier varieties, milder ones, the Kannada version with a hint of
sweetness, and so on.
I dislike it when a North Indian tries to call it Sambhal!
Just as our Vada seems to have become Bhara or Bhalla, Dosa has become Dhosa.
Similarly, when a Gujarati complains that South Indian restaurants skimp on the
Sambhar, serving only a small tumbler instead of a larger bowl. My Gujju friend
brings about 10 mini idlis (about 3-4 cm wide) to the office, drops them into a
bowl of Sambhar, and slurps them like soup with a spoon. An Iyer seeing this
would be aghast, muttering 'enna ithu'—what an abomination! Adding—Eat it like
it should be eaten, using a finger, tear off a quarter of a large idli, dip it
in Sambhar and chutney, and chomp it, while you raise your eyes to survey the
world around, then back to the plate for the next morsel, not with a fork or
spoon....
Sadly, they may not realize that Sambhal-sambol (which we
loved and ate with everything when we visited Sri Lanka) is actually a Lankan
Sinhala coconut-based chutney. It’s very similar to the Kerala red thenga
chammandi, and it is often pungently hot, sometimes flavored with lime, onions,
fish paste, and more. There are many Sambal varieties, so I don't want to
offend a Lankan with this simplified explanation.
But then, when you read that the Sambhar may have a
Maharashtrian connection, you might be surprised. True, this has been discussed
in mainstream media and many websites, but let me now share my perspective,
referencing some food experts and historical sources.
According to a legend, Sambhaji, the eldest son and heir of
Chhatrapati Shivaji, was visiting Shahuji, who ruled Tanjore (1682-1712), when
he requested his usual dhal curry with rotis. The cook, or as some insist,
Shahuji, added tamarind to the amti dal curry instead of kokum (and replaced
Tuvar dhal with Mung), as these were the only locally available substitutes,
and served the mixture to Sambhaji. This is said to be how the basic version of
Sambhar was created. Conversely, Shahuji and Sambhaji, who were actually
half-brothers, were on bad terms, so it’s surprising that Shahuji would go to
such lengths or get involved in palace kitchen matters for such an event. Some
suggest that Shahuji may have named the dish Sambhar after Sambhaji to help
rebuild friendly relations between the two families. All of this sounds strange
considering the timelines—Shahuji became king of Tanjore in 1684 at age 12,
while Sambhaji, busy fighting the Mughals, was later captured and executed in
1689. If Sambhaji did visit Tanjore between 1684 and 1689 (though no records
mention it), Shahuji would have been between 12 and 17 years old, an age when
it’s unlikely he had any interest or involvement in cooking. Let’s leave it at
that, concluding that although it may have Marathi connections, it was probably
a Tanjavur invention!
After a series of wars and transitions, Serfoji II Bhonsle
(also spelled Sarabhoji II Bhonsle) took control, supported by the British, in
1798. Serfoji II's three-decade reign is best known for his contributions to
art, literature, and cuisine. It's no surprise that another legend suggests
Serfoji II himself created Sambhar after experimenting with lentil soup and
adding tamarind. Interestingly, most of his culinary efforts are documented in
the cooking diaries—Sarabendra Pakashastra, a collection of recipes from the
royal kitchens at Tanjore, preserved at the Sarasvati Mahal library as two
manuals compiled by Serfoji’s scribes in Marathi (using Modi script) in the
1820s. One Bhim Rao from the Sarasvati Mahal library apparently mentioned that
Sambhar was originally called Sambhachi ahar—Sambha’s food—and that this name
evolved into Sambhar over time. Was Sambha supposedly Sambhaji? It is not clear.
While these are popularly narrated versions, it is quite
possible that the name originated from Marathi / Gujarati/Sanskrit usages. The
word itself has no connection to any Tamil usages from the past (Tamils had
mainly Kuzhambu for such curries), and it is quite possible that the name
"saambhaar" came from one of the above languages. It could be a
derivative of the Sanskrit root usage sambhara (Malayalam - sambharanam), meaning
‘a collection’.
Geeta Bharatan concurs - The primary meaning of saṃbhāra
is a collection or assemblage of items, especially ingredients or materials
needed for a specific purpose. Perhaps the curry was ritually offered to the
King, and hence a Ritual offering. In a Hindu context, sambhara can denote the
collection of materials and offerings required for a sacrifice. The word also
refers to the act of putting something together or arranging it. The South
Indian dish "Sambhar" likely derives from this Sanskrit word,
referring to the various constituents of the stew.
Although the Sambhar name is associated with this curry, it
is distinctly Deccan or Tamil in nature, characterized by the use of tamarind
and other local spices. That must be how a parippu puli kuzhampu made with
Tuvar dhal became the Sambhar of today.
Acharya’s Historical dictionary defines it thus - A
fairly thick spicy extract of thuvar dhal soured with tamarind, frequently
containing soft vegetables like the brinjal, drumstick, gourd, and lady’s
finger. It is served in South India with rice as a middle course, after a
course of rice with rasam and before a course of rice with curds. Sambhar is
also eaten as an accompaniment to the idli and vada. The Kannada term for the
dish is huli and the Telugu, pulusu. The Tamil country has a premixed sambhar &
rasam, convenient for travel, and Karnataka has the bisibele-huli-anna, best
eaten with ghee. However, I don’t believe that is the correct order in
Kerala and Tamil Nadu, as the rasam typically follows the Sambhar course.
Many versions exist, and the vegetables included vary by region. In Tamil Nadu, Andhra Pradesh, and Karnataka, traditional vegetables are used, while in South Kerala, potatoes, cauliflower, or carrots are sometimes included, especially in the Travancore area. In Karnataka, a bit of jaggery is often added. Kerala and Karnataka grind roasted spices with coconut to create a flavorful mixture, though it's milder due to the coconut. Meanwhile, Tamil and Andhra versions tend to be spicier and tangier. In Malabar and Palghat, brinjal, ladies' fingers, drumsticks, and shallots are key ingredients in their sambhar. Other regions add exotic vegetables like bitter gourd, keerai, radish, kovakkai, and even garlic. Hing, also known as asafoetida, is always an important adder, providing zest and a pungent aroma.
We should also verify if there are any historical references
to the curry. It appears that a Telugu poem written by the Vijayanagara king
Krishnadeva Raya mentions the word "Sambharampuchintapandu." Srinivas
Sistla, who studied this, states that there are references to "Sambhar
ingredients packed in separate packs, jaggery, tamarind paste" when
describing the food that Periyalvar's wife packs at Srivilliputhur in
present-day Tamil Nadu. The Sabdaratnakaramu (1885), a dictionary, and Vedam
Venkataraya Sastry's commentary (1927) on the poem also interpret the word in
the same way. Based on this evidence, Sistla theorizes that Sambhar was likely
part of Tamil cuisine by the 16th century.
K. T. Achaya also notes that the earliest surviving
reference to Sambhar, called "huli," dates back to the 17th century
in present-day Karnataka. Kanthirava Narasaraja Vijaya, a 1648 work by Kannada
scholar Govinda Vaidya, mentions huli (puli), which literally means
"sourness," a curry similar to modern Sambhar made with vegetables
and tuvar dal. This suggests that the curry was present in Tamil regions,
Deccan, and Vijayanagara even before the Mahrattas arrived at Tanjore in the
17th century, although it may not have been called Sambhar then. If ‘huli’ was
a version of the early Sambhar, then the humble mulagu varutha puli koottan of
Palghat, which was never served to a guest, should be similar—yet I believe it
is not. It is a simple mix of tamarind and salt, with boiled vegetables.
There are also mentions that Sangam period cooking included
Thuvaram paruppu kalavai (paruppu kulambu) and Mohana Kalavai (with tender
coconuts), which could be considered early versions of Sambar. Sambhar
contained red chilies introduced by the Portuguese in the 16th century. So, how
was it made before the Portuguese arrived? Maybe using black pepper? I am not
entirely sure.
In the Andhra regions, where food was also influenced by
Nizami cuisine, there's dalcha, which includes meat, kaddu (pumpkin), and chana
dal, as well as tamarind and a spice mix similar to Sambhar masala. These
Hyderabadi Muslim versions of Sambhar, once popular also in Orissa, are now
quite common in Malaysia. The Malaysian version was popularized by Muslim
cooks, resulting in a distinct variation.
The Japanese learned a few things about curries from Rash
Behari Bose and AM Nair, and today Kari rice is part of their cuisine, though it
is not Sambhar rice. It should also be noted that they did not pick up the word
Sambhar from the Tamil laborers during the war. Nevertheless, they named the
mini truck manufactured by Subaru as Sambhar (nothing to do with the curry,
though), so when you use the term in Japan, you may end up seeing a truck!
Another interesting piece of trivia is that Sambhar was
added to the menu for Indian space travelers, along with Idli and Chutney! The
DFRL, based in Mysore, developed Sambhar Chawal, along with several other
Indian dishes, such as Sooji Halwa, Veg Biryani, Katti Rolls, and more, for its
60-item selection for astronauts.
Some Kerala versions
Sambhar arrived in Kerala much later, as the Sadya listing
in Cochin’s Shaktan Thampuran period mainly mentions Erisseri, Kalan, Olan,
etc., all of which were prepared without red chilli—a spice that arrived with
the Portuguese in the 16th century and became a staple in the Tamil versions of
Rasam and Sambhar. Interestingly, the use of red chillies never gained
popularity in Kerala, despite the Portuguese presence in Cochin, until much
later. It is also strange that the British never made any real mention of the
dish; although there are references to Sambhar (a lentil and pigeon pea stew),
they did not go beyond a broad name, curry, and Madras curry powder, which may
have been a type of Sambhar powder with plenty of garam masala.
The coconut-based ‘arachuvitta’ (varutharacha or ground)
Sambhar is popular in Nair and Iyer households of Palghat and is now often
included in home cooking or ‘athu chamayal. There is a subtle variation in
tadka styles, with some using hing and others using methi seeds, along with
curry leaves, red chilies, and mustard. Most use coconut oil (or sesame oil in
Tamil regions), but during festive occasions, Brahmins typically use ghee.
Udupi Sambhar will have a touch of jaggery to mellow down the taste.
Arachuvitta and Varutharacha Sambhar: In these special
variations, whole spices and coconut are roasted and ground into a paste before
being added to the Sambhar, as a core flavor element. This creates a deeper,
richer aroma than simply adding the ground powder. Bengal gram, coriander
seeds, tuvar dal, methi seeds, red chilies, and other ingredients are
dry-roasted and ground with grated coconut to make the spice paste. This paste
is then boiled with tamarind water before adding the appropriate vegetables.
Though desiccated coconut was used by overseas Indians, it is rarely used in
South India, and fresh coconut is preferred.
A Kerala Sadya begins with a small serving of rice, accompanied by yellow dal and ghee. The taste buds are then awakened by the Sambhar, slightly tempered down by the salty pappadams. This is then followed by some rasam that provides valuable digestive acids, before being cooled down in the next course with a generous helping of yogurt or curds. Finally, you are carried to nirvana by one or two payasams (kheer).
A recent article by Vijish Gopinath calls sambhar the main
star in the culinary drama we know as the sadya, but I am not sure it can
overshadow all the side dishes, such as aviyal and kootu kari, not to mention
the thoran and olan.
The excellent article by Vijish in a recent Vanitha magazine
traces the journey of the Sambhar as it evolved from Kasargod to Trivandrum.
While the Northern Udupi Brahmin versions have a bit of ghee and jaggery added
to mellow the flavor, versions further south show an increased use of coconut
and fewer dals. Tomato and Hing are common in most versions, but subtle
differences exist depending on the maker's caste. A Nair Sambhar is distinctly
different from a brahmin or Thiyya Sambhar, differing in spice ratios and
vegetables. By the time the sambhar reaches South Travancore, most consider it
a transformed version, not fully accepted by purists (in jest) as true sambhar.
As you head south, the quantity and size of vegetables increase, resulting in a
spicier and thicker vegetable curry. Muslims, on the other hand, simply call it
a vegetarian curry, usually not considered as sophisticated as Malabar’s fish
curries. There’s even a fish sambhar version served at the Samudra Feast in the
Ambika hotel at Calicut.
In my opinion, the perfect Sambhar is the Palghat Sambhar, and the magazine agrees, stating that the Trichur Sambhar, which is a close second, is somewhat diluted. Palghat incidentally has
three varieties: the Tamil version, the Brahmin Agraharam version, and the Nair
version.
Tiffin Sambhar is a quick and easy recipe, perfect for idlis
and vadas, which eliminates the need for ground ingredients by using powdered
spices and dhal to save prep time. Tiffin Sambhar (or Idli Sambhar) is a
thinner, milder, and often less tangy version, specifically made for breakfast
dishes. In contrast, regular Sambhar is usually thicker, spicier, and contains
more vegetables, intended to be eaten with rice.
I believe I have made my point, and the next time someone
claims it is a Marathi dish, you can respond with some arguments to the
contrary.
References
KT Acharya – Indian Food: A Historical Companion and A
Historical Dictionary of Indian Food
Vanitha – Onam Mood, Sambhar Vibe – Vijish Gopinath
Maddy’s ramblings – Idli, a
delectable dish
No comments:
Post a Comment