Suvarnamma

i went to the village of Lakavalli, near the Bhadravati dam for a 3-day trip. More on that later, but in that village, i fell in love. Read on to know more...

She was the perfect shade of yellow, not too much not too less. With a generous addition of coconut, groundnuts and a few other pulses, she looked like a bride on her marriage day. And boy was she hot. Steaming in fact, taken right out of the big vessel of Suvarnamma. Her fragrance tingled my nose, tempting and titillating. She was soft, and she was plentiful. When I put the first morsel in my mouth, it melted into an emotion words cannot describe. A heavenly balance of spice, flavor, sweet, and oil. Having two full plates of Suvarnamma's avalakki was the pinnacle of culinary satisfaction in my life to date. Never have my lips smacked so, never my fingers licked. Manners forgotten in a breath, as we got down to satiate that raw animal of hunger that had awoken after a day of trekking. Avalakki elsewhere shall never taste the same again.

More on the magician. In the dusty little village of Lakavalli, where my friends Keshav, Rahul, Gagan, Hitesh and I stayed for two days, was the hotel of Suvarnamma. Suvarnamma is the wife of Naganna, after whom the hotel is named. In a parallel that evoked fond childhood memories, her hotel has no board outside it, akin to 'The boardless hotel' in Malgudi Days. People around simply know it as the Naganna place. That woman is the best damn cook I have ever seen, period. Our first meal there was breakfast on the second day, when each of us had two idlis, one vada, few chili bajjis, a little chitranna and finally, that avalakki. I hogged and hogged till I could hog no more. All us five guys did. To our utter delight the bill came up to only Rs.125! Nowhere in Bangalore city can you eat so much for so less. Eating was peppered with her talk, as she elaborated on her family, her kids, the Bhadravati dam, and places that we could visit, covering a gamut of topics as only village women can. She has a maternal smile and an easy speech, and we chatted with her in the few seconds we could squeeze in between bites.

We trooped to her small dining room again for lunch which was Ragi mudde and rice with rasam and another sambar. Again we pushed the walls of our stomach like they had never been pushed before, but the bill was a measly Rs. 150. We told her about the places we went and were planning to go to in the remainder of our stay there. She gave us directions and safety advice in the vein of mothers the world over.

Dinner and next morning's breakfast were similar affairs, more or less. Only it was a pleasure that grew more pleasurable as we partook of it. We were scheduled to leave for Jog Falls after that, and leave directly for home from there, so this was goodbye. Gagan, who had grown especially fond of the place, almost got emotional and started taking pictures of the two hoteliers and the little place they ran. They bid us goodbye cheerfully and wished us well. While leaving we thrust a Rs. 100 note into her very reluctant hands, emphatically stating that there was no other way for us to express our gratitude to her for this unparalleled experience. What had been a very enjoyable trip as it is, she had made unforgettable.

It is sad that magical cooks like her are languishing in anonymity, while decorated restaurants with artificial glitz burn our pockets for food that just doesn't match up to this. I realize the only way I can help her is to present her food and hospitality in the best possible way, and hope that whatever few readers I have, if perchance ever go to the same place, will remember to visit her place. Also, if they could be kind enough, pack me a parcel of Avalakki.

Till then, I am doomed to roam the lackluster streets of Bangalore, with no more than a hollow craving of one more plate. Just, one more. Sigh.