Aavaaram and a floral Rasam

There’s a saying in Tamil: ஆவாரம்பூ இருக்க சாவாரைக் கண்டதுண்டோ!! Aavaarampoo irukka saavarai kandathundo!! Will you ever find dying where aavaaram flowers are blooming?

Such is the admiration for aavaarai, and such the belief in this plant’s value to life and livelihood.

Aavaaram is either a leguminous tree or a branched shrub, as you prefer. It grows wild in the drier zones of the Deccan: Tamil Nadu, Karnataka, Telangana–where it’s the state flower (tangedu in Telugu). Botanically, it’s Cassia Auriculata, syn. Senna Auriculata. The English common name for this plant derives from the Tamil: avaram senna.

Aavaaram is often confused with amaltas, what we know in Pondicherry as “imagination,” the golden shower tree, the Indian laburnum, Cassia fistula. That is also known as konnrai or konnaipoo, used in Tamil New year or Vishu–the spring equinox, since it blooms as the weather is turning hot, yellow heat in the trees.

Aavaram likes it cooler. It arrives just after the winter monsoons, January through April, when konnaipoo takes over. Both flowers are edible, both have medicinal properties and in some simple, decorative ways, both can be used interchangeably. But botanically, medicinally, and culturally, they are distinct.

Historically, the bark from this plant was the primary material used to tan hides, sheep and goat skins–giving it the name Tanner’s Cassia. Income from this tan-bark contributed no small amount to state revenues from “minor forest products” in the early 20th century. It competed, for a time, with Wattle bark imports from Natal, South Africa! Not only did the high tannin of Wattle bark make it possible to use half the quantity, but the use of South African Wattle bark resulted in a heavier hide than those tanned with Aavaaram–and hides were sold by weight, not size. [Source: Keshaviah Aswath Narain Rao and Saha L Janniah, Utilisation of Indigenous Tanning Materials, Bangalore: The Bangalore Press, 1935: pp. 95-104)]

Nonetheless, the use of aavaaram for tan liquors was never quite displaced; it remained a specialization of the Chakkiliyars, a Telugu community in the Madras Presidency, who used it to produce “leather shoes, saddles and artillery for the generals and rajahs” and “irrigation bags, belts and harness for cattle, besides containers for transporting ghee and water” in the countryside. This was all until the transition to chrome-tanning and other industrial shifts which led to the transformation of leatherworking, and the traditional leatherworking Chakkiliyars (now known as the Arundathiyars, a scheduled caste community) went from being professionals–albeit stigmatized, given their work with carcasses–to being daily wage workers, and seasonal agricultural laborers. [Source: V. Sujatha, Economic and Political Weekly 37/47: Nov. 23-29 2002, pp. 4672-4675]

In such a diverse ecosystem does aavaaram belong.

Medicinally, aavaaram is a bit of a wonder-plant, with anti-diabetic (effective in controlling blood sugar), antihyperlipidemic (effective in regulating cholesterol metabolism), anti-pyretic (effective in reducing fevers), and antihelminthic properties (effective in countering parasites) properties–among several other uses in the treatment of chronic fevers, skin conditions, scorpion bites and so on. Many of these properties appear concentrated in roots, with flowers and leaves being lesser conveyors. Being more accessible and readily consumable, however, they’re used as substitutes.

For topical use, aavaarai is thought to improve skin condition: treating blemishes, acne, some skin discolorations (reducing pigmentation on black spots) and generally improvs complexion. Dried Avaram Senna flowers can also be mixed with hair oils containing fenugreek, henna, amla, and hibiscus flowers. Together, these deter scalp infections and promote hair growth by their antibacterial and anti-inflammatory properties.

Long having been enamored of the possibilities of natural color extraction from local flowers (see here, here, and here) and floral cookery, I’ve pretty much taken to adding aavaaram petals to any dish I please. It’s easy, pretty, and versatile like that. Here are some ideas.

The iconic aavaarai preparation is not a rasam, but a kootu. The kootu, as the Tamil name implies, is a gathering, a crowd–an assemblage of ingredients. Aavaaram kootu makes use of either moong or toor dal, onions-tomatoes-garlic if you want, but otherwise green chillies and coconut, and a simple seasoning, followed by the addition of the flowers. I decided to carry the same principles over into my rasam, which makes use of ground coconut and green chillies and uses the flowers both fresh, and fried as part of the seasoning. (In that last sense, it’s very similar to the pavazhamalli rasam prep). I’ve made it this time with toor dal, but moong is an easy substitution.

Beware, this is no thelivu rasam! Which is to say that it is not one of the clearer-brothier recipes, but one with a lot of “residue.” Rasam lovers will know that there are personality and behavior types that can be marked out by studying rasam-consuming preferences: those who just won’t stand for too much rasavandi (residue) and others who will simply enjoy broth and residue as part of the whole extended rasam experience. In any case, if you’re in the former camp, consider yourself warned.

& now for the recipe, in both video (next) and written form (below that). Enjoy before aavaaram season is completely over for this year!

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