Sweet-spiced Vadan Samba kanji

I’ll confess right off, vadan samba isn’t the most exciting rice to work with.

It hasn’t the lore and promise of maapillai samba, for example. Story goes, maapillai samba was a near forgotten rice some decades ago when a farmer who had some seed slowly it revived as our penchant for so-called “red rices” as healthier alternatives to white grew. But there were always those who had not forgotten—the farmer, for one, and those agrarian communities that still understood this as a rice specially suited to male health, imparting the sort of strength, energy and basis for forbearance that young men particularly need as they ready themselves for marriage and life’s long travails. So the rice was served by brides’ parents to their would-be sons-in-law, who had to prove themselves in sports like jalikattu or the lifting of an enormous rock called the “ilavatta kal.” Feeding a bridegroom mapillai samba, usually on the second day of Saiva Pillai/Vellalar weddings, was a way of both acknowledging and ensuring his continued strength.

Vadan Samba has no such wondrous tales of community and significance, nor really any particularly noteworthy mention in historical records (as of this writing). Namma Nellu/CIKS mentions somewhat tantalizingly in passing that this rice has the distinction of apparently having been named among 100-odd sen-nel or unique rice varieties in the Pazhani Cheppu Pattayam (Pazhani Copper Inscriptions) from 1528, published by the Tamil Nadu State Archaeology Department in 1995 [Indian Express, Madurai edition: 30th April, 1995 and The Hindu, Coimbatore edition: 16th July, 1995], lines 133-151. This inscription apparently tells of a meeting of Chera, the Chola, and Pandiya representatives discussing cultivation techniques, water management, harvesting methods, and the construction of a common place for free food supply (CIKS 2019). But it’s only வாலன் [Valan] listed (lines 133-138), at least in this version of the Pattayam that I managed to find, thanks to Raghu of East Gaterr blog. And whether that old வாலன் [vaalan] became the rice we know today as வாலான் [vaalaan], or whether it’s in fact the old word for the present வாடன் [vaadan] is difficult to determine from this source alone. So, out that goes, too, unless proven otherwise.

What we do know about vadan samba with greater certainty are a handful of farmers’ growing insights. “Vadan” means “dried”–not the look of the rice grains, but the capacity of the grain to survive poor-to-no irrigation, and for the “dried” rice to come to life with new rains and little other intervention. A smaller harvest may be the result of drought stress, but not a lost one. For this reason, the name “vadan samba” just might attach to any red-husked samba (mid-July to mid-January seasonal) rice which exhibits similar behavior: A. Sathya (2014) notes two varieties from Thanjavur and North Arcot, for example. The fact that this rice is disease resistant is also well-documented; it therefore is easier to grow by organic farming methods. Finally, the grains are apparently brittle and break easily in milling, so although the crop duration is 160 days, harvesting takes place earlier, when the grains are yet green, to ensure less breakage. This trio of facts–drought resistance, pest resistance, and the need for early harvesting–comprise much of the stable knowledge about vadan samba.

The rest is mostly anecdotal and experiential reporting, far as I can tell:

• Menaka of Manvasanai in Chennai claims vadan samba is sleep inducing (and presumably soothing);
• many claim that the rice is easy to digest, and therefore used as a “first food” (along with Kuzhiadichan, another red-branned variety) as well as a food for jaundice (manja kamalai); and
• there are also claims that this rice is immunity boosting, though the difference between this and many other raw, unpolished red-to-black branned varieties out there, similarly valued, is unclear. Even so, combined with the prior point, I take this to mean that this rice is also a good choice for convalescence.

Add to that our own insights from Shalikuta’s ongoing documentation of India’s heritage rices. Vadan samba is texturally softer but not unlike most other so-called “red rices” out there, cooking into an almost nutty texture and looking a little like a popped kernel. Taste-wise, however, it’s fairly bland–an observation which might support the notion that it’s easily digested, but also means that it gives itself over readily to whatever is served with it. It’s character is milder, overall. Combine that with claims that it can be sleep-inducing, immunity boosting, and a good first food or convalescent rice — a lightly sweetened and spiced kanji just seems a logical way to pull all vadan samba’s attributes together nicely.

So, then, this kanji becomes a story of how to take a rice that has no lore, no detailed phytochemical profiling, no compelling historical antecedents, and only a modest health-taste profile — but key value for a farmer to choose to grow — and turn it into something quite indescribably special. It becomes a delicately flavored, easy-on-the-body, warm, nourishing kanji. A little like parutthi paal, but made with rice cooking stock plus some rice for that additional starch energy boost. Thick enough to satiate, thin enough to drink. Checks all boxes, farmer to consumer, and hits a sweet spot, dare I say.

The vadan samba pictured here comes from Mrs Bhuvaneshwari Selvam in Madurai, on whose farm we spent more than a few hours one sunny November day talking about cooking with musumusukai, kalyana murungai and other such less-used native ingredients alongside rice, and whose many generously given cuttings are growing in my garden even as I write.

Notes on the kanji

Kanji or “congee” refers to the boiling of rice, usually in water; it’s roughly understood as a rice porridge or a gruel. The Chinese will claim it of course, and act surprised that “kanji” is an old Tamil word, and that’s it’s often treated as a medicinal preparation or at the very least a nourishing, strength-building one. For our part, we’ve tended to ignore just how many kanji variations our various rice-eating states boast–from Kerala’s dashapushpam-based Karkidaka kanji to the Gujarati thicker ghesh and thinner pejiyu [also called dagchu or bhadku] and Bangla and Odia jau bhaat.

Now most traditional kanjis are savory preparations, in India and elsewhere. Add sweeteners and milks, and they tend towards rice puddings instead: payasams and kheers. This vadan samba kanji falls somewhere between–it uses salt, dry ginger/chukku, and peppers (black pepper: milagu, long black pepper: thippili, and round black pepper: gundu thippili), but also karupatti/ panavellam/ toddy palm jaggery and coconut milk. Chukku, milagu, thippili: this trio is known as thiri-kadugam, the three medicines; palm jaggery has known curative value for coughs and colds. Take it all together and the the point here is to join with vadan samba’s own immunity-boosting character and pack a punch. The sweetening is in its way mild, and incidental.

The real secret to this recipe, however, is chitharathai/ சிற்றரத்தை /Alpinia officinarum/ “lesser galangal,” which somehow magically combines the fragrance of piney-eucalyptus with the sweetness of cinnamon, and is the spice that gives paruthi paal (cottonseed milk) its characteristic taste. I have it growing happily in a pot, rhizomes brought over from once-upon-a-time in Bali and safely guarded ever since. See the image below. My current dried stash comes, however, from the local naatu vaidyar kadai [country doctor shop]. Just a little added to this kanji pulls the sweetness of the rice right out and ties it to karupatti and the coconut milk.

You could go one step further and add a ripe, mashed or finely chopped karpooravalli banana. This works especially well with thinner kanjis to thicken slightly, add texture, the rich flavor, and the nutrients that come from those little karpooravallis.

Kanjis need rices that cook up well enough to spill their starches. Raw unpolished vadan samba would have the greatest medicinal value, but it doesn’t fall apart the way black rices tend to or some other “white” rices would. Nonetheless, it spills enough starch into its cooking water to make a kanji work. A little rice gets mashed in, the rest gets saved for your next meal. [A “twofer,” as Texas mattress salesmen of a certain era might have said.]

That’s option 1, and you have a fresh kanji alongside a table rice. Option 2 is to ferment the rice overnight, so that it becomes “pazhaiya sadam” or “old rice” and use that as the base for the kanji–pazhamkanji.

In the video clip below you can see the gelatinous form that the kanji takes, when left to rest overnight. Although kanjis are not typically fermented, there’s nothing wrong with leaving vadan samba, cooked in an ample amount of water, out for a night–then the next day, use that gelatinous layer plus as ladle or two of the rice itself for this kanji preparation.

Note: It’s important that cooked rice must be covered with water if it’s to be left to ferment overnight, otherwise it may just spoil. If you don’t have enough cooking water to cover already, then add more. Note also that my rice here is already cooked into a porridge, so it can’t be used as a table rice after the water is drained out. No matter, we had it with fried yams, greens, and a bit of pickle on the side. Mixing buttermilk in is also an option. Pazhaiya sadam [“old rice”], after all!

With special thanks to all those in the Shalikuta group whose ideas, clarifications and inputs are all reflected in the details of this post.

Sources

• CIKS, Traditional Rice Varieties of Tamil Nadu: A Sourcebook. Chennai, 2019
• A Sathya. 2014 “The Art of Naming Traditional Rice Varieties and Landraces by Ancient Tamils.” Asian Agri-History 18/1: 5-21.