Rice Flour, Memories, and the Sea: My Idiyappam Story

I once went to Kanyakumari beach, the scenic southern tip of India. As I always say… seeing the enormous volume of the sea, I felt like, “Yes, we are just humans!”

That statement was originally said by my brother, but the moment I heard it, it stuck with me. And as I looked into the sea, I felt it too—the acceptance was instant.

It’s like I rummaged through my mind… like I dived into the sea and came up with a blog—to write something about idiyappam, a traditional South Indian food often served with coconut milk, chickpeas curry, kurma, stew, chicken curry, or mutton curry. It’s completely your flavour—and to savour it, here’s what it is: a soft, steamed rice-flour noodle pancake.

Idiyappam is made from rice flour, which we call pacharisi maavu in our region. It’s pressed into fine, noodle-like strands and then steamed into soft, lacy rounds.

Back in my childhood, idiyappam was so rare. As an ideal South Indian, our mornings were usually filled with idli, dosa, or puttu. I remember well—when it was mango season, our daily breakfast was puttu with mango… straight for a whole month, until the mangoes were gone. And that taste of puttu with mango? Ethereal!

I’ve always been a fan of the smell of steamed pacharisi maavu layered with grated coconut in the process of making puttu. (I don’t know why, but I miss my grandmother so much when I think of that smell! It reminds me of her soul. We are just humans!)

The thing is, idiyappam never made frequent appearances back then. Not like today—now I can make it anytime I want. In fact, I’ve declared it officially—idiyappam season!

Aapam with egg curry was more frequent during childhood. That was actually my Amma’s signature dish.

So, puttu reminds me of my paati, aapam reminds me of my Amma… and let idiyappam be possessed by me! (Not because I don’t know how to make puttu or aapam, hehe—it’s just that I, too, need some little possessions. We are just humans, right?) After all, pacharisi maavu—that humble rice flour—is the heart of all three.

I remember, before coming to Singapore, it was utensil shopping time at Kaasi Nadar Metals in Nagercoil. When I was handed a bronze idiyappam presser by my in-laws, I felt like it was a divine thing being inherited by me!

The process to make it is actually simple: boiling water poured into rice flour with a pinch of salt and a little coconut oil. Mix it into a soft dough—(just to handle the heat from it while mixing! Simple only, simple only… he he he.)

The right consistency is when it no longer sticks to your fingers. It always feels like magic when it reaches that stage!

Then comes the satisfying part—putting the dough into the presser and spinning it into perfect noodles. I like to layer it with grated coconut and a little jaggery (optional, of course—but if you do, it becomes something like a famous sweet from Sri Lanka!). Then steam it until you hear the buzzing whistle of the idli cooker. (Yes, I prefer the idli cooker—my idiyappams take the shape of idlis, which is how I was introduced to them in childhood.)

The smell of the steamed rice flour—it’s just so tantalising, even without tasting. Once it’s ready, I never mind popping a plain idiyappam straight into my mouth. That’s the pacharisi magic!

To me, idiyappam tastes sooo good with mutton curry. The moment the curry is poured over the idiyappam—it doesn’t melt instantly, but it softens perfectly, only to melt inside your mouth. That’s my evergreen favourite combo. Ever.

Of course, there are other foods too—true favourites for someone who doesn’t fancy idiyappam. Momos, noodles, dumplings… but no no no, nothing to compare here. To me, it’s just idiyappam and mutton curry!

We are just humans, right?

Because now, it’s time for me to think about the ocean again… maybe again and again… and to come up with better writing to express myself.