Thoothuvalai keerai rasam

Solanum Trilobatum, Thoothuvalai [தூதுவளை], or the purple-fruited pea eggplant is a herb or a weed as it pleases you to describe it that grows wild in rural areas, but is available from “keerai karis” or women selling greens. Presumably they forage these and sell them at local markets, where those who know their worth will be more likely to find them.

There are three stories to tell of thoothuvalai, two mytho-historical, one Saivaite, one Vaishnavaite; the third pharmocological, and each reinforcing the other. I’ll start with the earlier tales & preface these with an acknowledgement to another Deepa, from whose own searchings and consequent comment on my recipe video I found the fascinating stories of how this little thorny plant got its name.

STORY 1 is a Shaivaite tale of Somasi Mara Nayanar, 7th/8th century, 33rd of 63 Nayanars or saints of the Tamil Saiva tradition, and himself a devotee of the revered Sundaramurthy Swamigal or Sundarar–among the four most important of Nayanars, who “have left accounts of the Reality they were enabled to apprehend” [that’s Huxley via G. Vanmikanathan’s preface to his translation of Sekkizhaar’s 12th c. Tiruttondar Puranam or Periyapuranam].

Now Somasi Mara Nayanar was a performer of Somayajñas or rare, special propitiations for the benefit of all humanity; these rituals conferred the name, “Somasi.” To one such, he wished Siva as Lord Thyagaraja of Thiruvarur Himself be present so he could present the avirbaham or yagña prasadam directly to Siva Himself. He looked to Sundarar to make this invitation. Here the stories diverge but in each there is a role for thoothuvalai keerai as somehow both messenger and message delivered through Paravai nachiyar, Sundarar’s wife, daily–some say as bhiksha or offering, some say to cure an illness–for which Sundarar was grateful, and therefore also obliging.

[When Siva did come to the Somayaga, it was in the form of a hunter with four dogs (representing the 4 vedas), a dead calf over his shoulder, carrying a pot and accompanied by two boys holding their mother’s hands (Parvathi, Ganesha, Muruga). That an “untouchable” should so appear at a ritual ceremony so shocked the audience awaiting Siva Peruman–but Somasi Marar welcomed them, for he was not one to abide the distinctions of those times. Only when he presents the avirbaham or prasadam to the hunter does Siva appear before him and name Somasi Marar among his Nayanmars.]

STORY 2 is a Vaishnava tale that begins, as with all Indian stories, in the middle of some other much longer, winding narrative. It tells of a man named Yamunacharya who lived in the 10th c., grandson of Sri Ranga Nathamuni [compiler of the 4000 Divya Prabandams, and the first of 3 most important Sri Vaishnava Acharyas]. Now Yamunacharya goes as a young boy to debate Akkiyalwan, a scholar of some repute and means in the Chola King’s court. The debate draws on and must eventually be settled with a specific contest in which Yamunacharya makes 3 statements which his opponent must negate with evidence from shastras: your mother is not barren, the King is powerful and just, the Queen is chaste. Of course, Akkiyalwan can offer no response: how can he possibly make the claim that his mother is barren? That the King, who patronizes him, is neither powerful not just? And that the Queen is not chaste? So Yamunacharya wins this debate, and not only gets half the kingdom, but the title of “Alavandar”: the one who came as savior.

[Alavandar’s own responses, roughly culled from internet re-tellings & subject to revision if I ever come on more authoritative sources: a single tree cannot form a grove–so the mother of a single child is likewise “barren”; the King failed to dismiss so arrogant a scholar as Akkiyalwan–so is neither powerful nor just; and Vedic rituals prescribe a marriage first to Soma, Gandharva and then Agni before any unions with earthly spouses–so the Queen is by definition married multiple times and thus not chaste.]

So does Alavandar become a King. In the meantime, Nathamuni has entrusted the task of imparting Siddhanta knowledge to his grandson, who is none other than Alavandar himself, to his disciple Uyyakondar, who in turn entrusts this to his disciple, Manakkal Nambi. Now unable to gain the King’s attention, Manakkal Nambi goes as a cook to Alavandar’s kitchens, carrying daily–can you guess?–thoothuvalai keerai!

Alavandar appears to pay no heed until Manakkal Nambi gives up, thinking his medium ineffective. Then Alavandar misses this favored green in his meals, inquiries, and asks to see the old Brahmin man who brings them, when he next comes. When Manakkal Nambi comes once more with thoothuvalai, is when he gets the audience he seeks, and the tutlelage promised Nathamuni can begin.

Hence the saying “தூது சென்ற தூதுவளை–thoothu/ doothu sendra thoothuvalai,” the message conveyed by the messenger that is thoothuvalai.

STORY 3 is pharmacological, perhaps most mundane of the three, though it might be the one we invoke most in daily use. Thoothuvalai is a Tamil maruthuva mooligai–which means it’s a medicinal herb, thought to impart sattva guna or good qualities. Hence, possibly, its efficacy as a messenger green to draw out the qualities of its eaters, be they Sundarar or Alavandar or any of us far more ordinary souls.

Thoothuvalai a Solanaceae or nightshade family plant, like manathakkali, tomatoes, and eggplants, potatoes, and peppers, which usually means that only specific parts of the plant are edible and/or that certain parts need specific treatment to be made useful for human consumption. Thoothuvali greens are almost always fried, both for this reason and also because the plant is thorny! In fact, it’s among the more unfriendly and uninviting of herbs out there. The thorns are also mildly toxic (high in alkaloids, possibly? Nightshades have this property), and so should be mostly removed, though I’ve seen recipes that make use of the whole plant, so cooking well achieves the same effect, possibly.

Thothuvalai’s most common use is in the prevention of, or treatment of, common colds and coughs. But there are many who say it therefore it helps to address all throat-region problems (for instance goiter) and respiratory tract ailments in general (for instance asthma). I am not sure how to verify such claims, but I will say that the taste of the keerai is very suited to things warm and warming. It needs chillies, it needs ghee, it needs cold weather. It feels very much like the right sort of food to have in cold seasons and rainy months.

Village preparations are of soups, rasams, and thogaiyals or cooked chutneys made with mixed lentils. Leaves are used also to prepare even simpler kashayams, and the unripe fruits, if you can find them, can be processed like manathakkali (black nightshade; Solanum Nigrum) fruit–soaked in curd, sun dried & stored, and fried as varthals. Most of these are frugal dishes made only with the bare minimum of local ingredients, but all delicious. Garlic, tamarind, chillies and suchlike are thoothuvalai’s natural companions. The rest is dish-specific. Now without further ado: thoothuvalai rasam.

The video shared on Instagram is one version of my recipe, followed by the written one below that.

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Thoothuvalai Rasam

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Ingredients

  

For the Rasam:

• 1 tablespoon toor dal
• A big bunch of thoothuvalai greens
• 1 large green chilli
• 5-6 cloves of garlic with skins on
• 2 ripe tomatoes chopped
• 2 dry red chillies
• A lime-sized tamarind ball soaked and water extracted
• ¼ teaspoon turmeric
• A little jaggery (Optional)
• Salt to taste

For the seasoning:

• 2 tablespoons sesame oil
• ½ teaspoon each mustard seeds jeera
• 1 red chilli torn
• A generous pinch of hing or one cube of katti perungayam

Instructions

 

Prep ahead:

• Set the toor dal to boil in enough water to cook. (An alternative is to make a toor dal for some other purpose with extra water, and use only the water for this rasam). Retain the cooked dal and water. Do not drain. Set aside.
• Clean the greens by removing most thorny stalks and stems, and any larger thorns on the leaves. The smaller ones are ok.
• Put these on an amikkal or other grinding stone/mortar and pestle, along with the green chilli. If you don’t have a grinding stone, you can also use a small blender or food processor – but don’t grind these to a fine paste. We’re looking for a coarse pounding or semi-coarse paste.
• Set the greens paste aside.
• In the same stone, add the garlic cloves and pound these with the skins on, again roughly. Set aside.
• Once again in the same stone, add the tomatoes—which you can roughly chop or just squeeze and them pound by hand. The idea is to soften them and make a mush, but not to lose all texture by making a paste.
• Incorporate the red chillies but don’t worry if these are not thoroughly blended in, and set aside.

Make the rasam:

• In a large, heavy-bottomed pan or eeya chombu, heat the sesame oil.
• When the oil is almost to smoking point, add the dry seasonings and allow them to splutter and crackle
• Follow immediately with the hing/katti perungayam and crushed garlic, and fry for less than a minute. Don’t allow this to burn.
• Next, add the thoothuvalai keerai-chilli paste. Fry this well for a minute or two. Add a bit of water if needed to keep from burning.
• Add the crushed tomato mixture and stir well.
• Whether you used a stone or a mixer jar, there’ll be residue there which you can clean out with drinking water – and pour into this pan now.
• Add turmeric, extracted tamarind water, cooked undrained toor dal along and salt plus extra water to dilute (to about 1 litre).
• Simmer until the raw tamarind smell dissipates and check for salt. You can add the jaggery now, too, if you’re using it.
• Serve hot with rice, or as a soup.

Video

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