Morkaḷi is a simple rice-based, fermented breakfast dish or snack closely related to koozh. While the classic “koozh” is a fermented ragi-rice preparation, “kaḷis” are not all ferments. Variants can feature tamarind or vendayam/methi/black gram or uḷundu and even dry ginger; tastes can be savory or sweet; the dish can be a meal or a lehyam (a “lickable” preparation usually used therapeutically), and can be fermented or not. But with both these sets of dishes, it’s the fermentation practices that are often getting curtailed or cut out, and which I therefore want to perhaps over-emphasize, by way of compensation.
With all the hoo-hoo-ha-ha about “lost” recipes and the romance of recovery comes a certain carelessness or forgetfulness. To whom are these really lost? Not to everyone, certainly & rural communities still cooking as they usually do while urbanites complain about their loss of roots. And next: what, precisely is being lost? Ingredients? Knowledge of uses? Insights about taste? Methods of preparation? Lore? More? It’s easy to forget that’s what’s being lost is not necessarily whole recipes, but the details or the specific parts of much longer processes. The fermentation chapter of morkaḷi preparation is a classic example of this–excised in the very modern search for the hurried and immediate.
Look around and you will find many a traditional mami, yes the very keepers of our “traditions,” presenting “quick and easy” morkaḷi recipes made with rice flour and sour buttermilk. I imagine the sourness of buttermilk replaces the souring of fermentation, so, taste-wise, you achieve similar results. Most people I know who’ve grown up with this dish have actually forgotten that this dish started with whole rice (not flour) and that the sourness owed to fermentation (not sour buttermilk)–that it is a slow food par excellence. But this is a loss, to my mind, because taste is hardly the only desired outcome of Indian cookery, which is so deeply concerned with a sort of wider care for the body and the digestibility or the effective absorption of foods consumed. What things taste like is important, of course, but how they’re made to taste as they are is both highly specific and hugely important. To boot, there are fine distinctions made between different sorts of sour tastes (as I’ve often found in explorations for the rasam series, here and here), so equating the sour of buttermilk and the sour is also to be forgetful of the differences between the two. That’s something else at risk of being lost.
Fermentation was also traditionally important in morkaḷi preparation because this was a food for the very young and the ageing or the convalescent: batters would keep for long without spoiling, could be easily prepared and easily digested. Plus they were mildly spiced and very tasty! Suguna Vinoth of @kannammacooks has things to say about this, which you should see in the only other fermented morkali recipe I could find out there. I found a few others leaving comments on various forums about fermented morkaḷi, but little more. My recipe is an amalgamation of all these.
The process, in a paragraph: rice is soaked for a full 24 hours; effectively this is the first fermentation. Then it’s ground with a little coconut (to aid the second fermentation) + very little water into a fine paste–which is left to rest another 24-48 hours (yes, trust me on this, the taste only improves and the batter does not spoil!). The resulting batter is too thick to cook evenly, so it’s thinned either with buttermilk or with plain water and poured into a pan with seasonings already crackling. This is cooked down into a still-pourable koozh (which can be eaten hot, as-is). Lots of cold pressed sesame oil gets poured on, the mor koozh is tipped into a pan where it can cool, solidify, and be cut into pieces. Et voila, little snacking morkali squares. Very kid-friendly, I might add.
“Mor” in this recipe refers to the use of buttermilk, or the buttermilk-like batter, or the soured tastes, or all of the above! When fermented, the buttermilk addition is not at all mandatory, but I like a little of it in the mix. Minced ginger also complements, but I wanted to showcase the mor-molagai (curd soaked chilli) tastes, so I left it out.
A word about texture, and the relationship of koozh to kali. If koozh is a state of matter–almost liquid to thick porridge-like–then “kali” picks up in texture where koozh leaves off, ranging from jelly-like and gelatinous, custardy to jiggly-solid, as in my take on this recipe. Sometimes morkali is also called “kara halva” or savory/spiced halva: another indication of its mostly solid (but still thaḷa-thaḷa jiggly) state. Here are examples:
- Dried panampazham is referred to as காய்ந்தபனங்களி, kaayinda-pana-kali, owing to its jelly-like halva-like texture.
- The balls prepared in koozh-making, prior to secondary fermentation, are also a “ragi kali” or a “kambu kali.” When they are mashed and thinned to serve is when they become “koozh.”
- In the preparation of morkali, the rice batter is cooked first into a runny koozh (which can be eaten hot as I’ve said already) or cooled into jelly-like kali.
So koozh and kaḷi are related in the sense of being part of the great Indian fermented firmament (ha ha), and in the sense of being intermediate or ultimate products of common preparation processes.
With all that–finally, the recipe! Video of the full process embedded below. No Instagram account needed to view!
Morkali, fermented rice cakes
Ingredients
For the morkoozh
- 1 cup rice (parboiled makes fermentation easier, but raw is ok, too)
- ¼ cup fresh shredded coconut
- ¼ cup or less sour curd thinned with water into about 2 cups buttermilk
- ¼ cup cold pressed good quality sesame oil
- salt
For the seasoning
- ½ teaspoon Mustard seeds
- ½ teaspoon Urad dal
- ½ teaspoon chana or split bengal gram dal
- Generous pinch asafoetida or hing
- 1-2 mor molagai or curd-soaked dried chilies (or just dry red chillies, or both)
- ½ teaspoon minced ginger Note: Omit if using mor molagai
- 1 sprig of curry leaves
Instructions
- Wash the rice and soak in sufficient water for a full 24 hours; effectively this is the first fermentation. The little bubbles you will see on the surface of the soaking water are evidence of this.
- Grind the rice with the shredded coconut and very little water into a semi-fine paste. A little grittiness is ok. Transfer to a bowl and leave this (covered) to rest for an additional 24-48 hours. Basically: forget about it for 2 days! It can be left still longer, refrigerated, for several days and used as needed.
- When you’re ready make the morkali, prep a plate or small tray by greasing it with sesame oil. Set aside.
- Your rice batter should show signs of souring: a little aeration or “sponginess” when mixed gently. Don't expect anything too pronounced though. [Note: If you see signs of spoilage – color changes, or fungal growth, or anything but a sour smell then discard and start over.]
- Mix the 2 cups of thinned curd/buttermilk into the fermented rice batter until you have a runny batter. The added water is needed for the rice to cook well. More is better than less.
- In a wide pan, heat a little sesame oil, and drop in all the dry seasonings. Fry until these crackle and drop in the curry leaves and minced ginger (if using).
- Turn the heat to medium-low, and follow at once with the morkali batter, pouring this in in a steady stream while mixing constantly to keep this from clumping.
- Continue stirring and cooking until the look of the koozh turns from chalky to glassy—a sign that the rice has all cooked sufficiently. There’s no harm in adding more water as you go, if you feel the mixture is getting too solid too fast and hasn’t cooked yet. Just mix it in slowly until all lumps are incorporated.
- You can also touch the surface of the koozh with moist fingers to test for done-ness – it should not stick. If it does, continue cooking a little longer. If your fingers come away clean, you’re done. The cooking process takes about 10 minutes, and needs your constant attention.
- Now pour the remaining sesame oil over top and mix well. Turn off the flame.
- Tip this koozh into the waiting greased tray and spread quickly using a spatula or spoon. Smoothen out the surface as best you can. Once this cools, you can invert it onto a serving dish and cut into squares or other shapes of your choice. In this form, morkali keeps well for a several days, refrigerated. Warm it a little (ideally by steaming) before serving.
- You can also spoon the hot koozh directly into bowls and serve with a little extra sesame oil drizzled over top. Spicy tamarind gravies like varthal kuzhambu go well with this!
Greetings Deepa!
I just recently discovered the amazing ancient world of traditional fermented foods and am reveling in their glories, just like you!
The Real Morkali is now another revelation! Thank you so so so much for bringing this back to life. I am going to make this too – but coconut – don’t have one with me (fresh coconuts in Bay Area are anyway so insipid..). Can one make the second fermentation happen without it, or is it a must?
Big hug and love to you for embracing our culture’s long-lost intelligence.. we both are on the same path 🙂
Priyanka
Hi Priyanka, happy to find another sister on this journey 🙂 The coconut aids fermentation & flavor — but you can certainly accomplish a ferment without it. It might take longer, and need to sit in an oven with the light on, depending on the local temperatures. On a side note: how do you live without fresh coconut? Insipid ones would work for the morkali though.
How do we live without Fresh Real Coconuts with ACTUAL coconut flavour, indeed! You Puducherry-ites (sp?) just don’t know what a rarity it is… when desperate, I am forced to use what’s here sometimes, and serve up a blob of white grease in the name of coconut chutney. At least it looks white – that’s the consolation! 😀
And dare I try to extract coconut milk out of them…. (mangoes, same story!)
Instead of coconut to aid fermentation, I wonder if some brine from my pickled cucumbers (no vinegar!) would work as well… I know it influences the end microbial cultures that we harvest, but I’d do anything to stay away from grease!
I read in one journal article that indeed other millets can be used to prepare koozh as well. Ah, why why why are we always put in a bind (to go buy this or that just for that one thing you want to make), instead of just being taught the concepts.. and letting us choose within those fundamental principles!?
I do have one last query – Salt. Suguna salted her batter before the second fermentation. You did it after. From my studies, I understand that this choice will have a direct influence on the type of microbial species we are blessed with (via our gut!)
Your thoughts, Deepa? What factors do you consider to decide whether to add salt before or after? Aside – for the humble idli – you must be adding before, like is common?
🙂 I lived in Houston for years, so I know the longing for coconut and mango, even though the Tex-Mex culture of the state brought some version of each to us. Sure, they’re no compare. But they do the job in a pinch. Not sure of the taste impact of the pickling brine, to be honest. I’d go without. Salt: subtle differences, though no doubt still important. Yes, usual practice is before. But if you want to slow the fermentation, after also works. Morkali is a toss-up. Why ask folks to go buy ingredients rather than teaching with concepts and principles? Because recipes are written with ingredients, not concepts and principles, unfortunately. & I, for one, have never been able to cook from Samin Nosrat’s Salt Fat Acid Heat, which is principle-based cookery book organizing. I’d think one has to learn the concepts and principles some other way, through other explorations, and then come to ingredients for the approach you (& frankly I, too) seek. Starting with principles as Nosrat does while making daily “what shall I cook today” decisions is counter-intuitive, especially when one is staring at a fridge drawer or a vendor’s cart or a supermarket aisle full of ingredients!
Agreed. We need a little bit of the being-led-by-the-little-finger before we can walk, and run on our own! Your point is well received 🙂
But there should be access to both levels. I find the vast majority of resources always using the abovementioned approach. Very very few (almost none, in my experience), will cover from a principles perspective..
So you’re saying salt would only result in a subtle difference in the cultures that grow? Actually, taste I don’t mind any which way… really just looking for the pure probiotic results. I am new to the microbiology of fermentation, so sorry for having the wrong impression that salt makes a noticeable (significant?) impact to the microbial species that end up growing. Was reading about halophilic, thermophilic, etc etc species… oh my, just another world out there, these bugs!
I meant only that the microfloral specificity and the gut biome impacts are likely to be subtle, not that they’d be unimportant. Salt before fosters more (volume and diversity), salt after fosters less. If we’re talking principles, the general practice is to add before & that’s likely better as you say, but after is ok, too. I guess I’m easy like that in my approach to cookery or we wind up with kitchen fundamentalisms rather than fundamentals (ha ha ha). Unless we’re talking specific deleterious effects as you find with storing food in tin vessels etc.
Also wondering in terms of the science behind fermentation.. it feels like koozh should work with other millets and grains too.. your thoughts, Deepa? Barley, samai (barnyard millet), etc .. surely they should ferment too?
I love barley for its health properties. Wondering if I can make barley koozh and derive similar probiotic benefits. I have organic barley rava in stock already. Would be great if they could work as well!
Try, why not. Other millets are used here for other dishes, and I wonder about the rationale of that — possibly some have a texture which is less appealing for these smooth koozh-kali recipes? I’m not sure. Try and let me know how your experiments fare!
(No more “reply” option showing up for the previous thread, so replying to this one, in continuation of our talk 🙂 ). Yes, I too aim for that combination of flexibility and fundamental-driven approach, not finicky fundamentalism.. so fine, won’t worry about the salt timing 🙂
I did try your ragi koozh methodology first-time yesterday. Kept my soaked ragi dough batter in the oven for 12 hours with the light on, just to be safe and best ensure fermentation. You know what emerged? There was a water layer on the top, with the ragi settled at the bottom. No issues, I can stir that back. But wait – no sour smell, no froth, unlike your beautiful picture! What could have gone wrong??? Batter consistency was a bit thin – thinner than medium, but not like water.
Still, seeing your encouragement that others jump directly to the 2nd ferment and still manage something, I cooked it up into a lump (with some cooked rice), shaped balls, immersed in cool water in a clay pot (does one HAVE to wait for the dough to cool down fully, or it is ok to add water to the still-hot balls?). Set aside for 12 hours.. no sour smell.. not going to relent this time.. so I promised myself to let it sit and sit and sit, until it is stinky and sour ! Well… 24+ hours.. no such luck. Maybe a punishment for not proceeding despite 1st ferment failing?? Or, just the cool weather.. ?
Totally bummed out. But really keen to learn from my mistakes! Would love to hear your thoughts on this. I followed your procedure to the T otherwise!
There are a couple of factors that typically affect fermentation in foreign lands, some under your control, some unfortunately not. Start with the former: yes, temperature is an issue, but usually sorted by sticking things on top of the fridge where it’s nice and warm or in the oven with the light on. I’d not advise clay pots as they’re cooling further right? Ok for my climates, less predictable in yours. Second: what water are you using? If it’s regular tap water, then that’s an issue since it’s likely chlorinated and would kill microflora rather than nurture. So invest in one of those spring water bottles I guess and make sure if you can it’s not just bottled tap water! 3rd, the freshness of your ragi — hard to tell, I’m sure. But clearly if it’s way too old, that’s a problem, too. Last, and this one you can’t really control: with each step in this it’s like you’re inviting some micro flora in, and keeping others out. But they’ve to be there to be invited in & so for the same reason I cannot for the life of me get milk to clabber or turn into sour cream here in India (those bacteria just don’t exist either in milk or the environment, or other local bacteria are just stronger)–you may wind up with mixed koozh results there, too. Not sure I know a way around that one, but you might well try remedying 1-3 before giving (4) greater credence… Good luck!
PS: for the ragi first ferment/soaking: try also a thicker paste? One that’s like a thicker dosa batter–which flows, but slowly. You might also see if you get whole ragi–soak and sprout it to ascertain freshness–then dry again, powder and make koozh. I’ve not done this myself, but it would pack a greater nutritional punch, and might be an interesting way to test for weak points in the process over yonder 🙂
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