Is it economics that nudges regional restaurants in tourist hubs to play safe, and curate generic, uninspiring menus? Aren’t they destroying their own local culinary heritage in the process?
Restaurants in many of Kerala’s tourist hubs prefer to offer safe, predictable menus for better footfalls from across India. Pic/Fiona Fernandez
We had barely settled at our table in a restaurant located in a sea-facing boutique hotel in central Kerala when we were greeted by the familiar tune of Saagar kinaare, the classic hit from the Ramesh Sippy film Saagar. Imagining that the Bollywood obsession was a one-off interlude, I began to pore over the menu to decide on the fish variety I wanted to savour, caught fresh and only a few hours earlier from the warm waters of the Arabian Sea. The Hindi film music parade continued on loop; the playlist was a mixed affair of 1980s and 90s hits [and duds too]. I was expecting Malayalam and Tamil movie tracks as the permanent background score but this Bollywood fix seemed a bit out of place. Little did I realise that the music was a prelude to the contents of the menu.
To my horror, I spotted all kinds of food items that had no business being served in an authentic Keralite restaurant. From Butter Chicken to Chowmein, Dal Makhni and Tomato Shorba, it looked like a mishmash that came straight out of a poorly instructed AI-enabled prompt. For a state that boasts of one of the most popular, diverse, and celebrated regional cuisines within India, which continues to be hailed across reputed global platforms, this appeared like a huge disservice to its food philosophy, from its fresh ingredients, to its homegrown recipes. After placing our orders [from the Keralite section of the menu, of course], a quick scan revealed that nearly half the menu’s contents were dedicated to this potpourri from the rest of the country, including the mandatory ode to Chindian cuisine.
When the food arrived, it was lip-smackingly delicious. The steamed Karimeen (Pearl Spot), which came snugly wrapped in a banana leaf, did full justice to the hype that surrounds it while the Travancore Neymeen (Seer fish) Fish Curry was a salute to the chef’s mastery in the balance of the state’s spices. It made me feel a wee bit sorry for that chef and the rest of the kitchen staff who would have had to unlearn and dilute their culinary chops to accommodate these non-Keralite dishes that had ‘invaded’ the menu. By day two of our stay, after observing and overhearing chit-chat among our fellow hotel guests in the lobby and restaurant, who came from all corners of India, it became increasingly evident that this menu was created to cater to the larger guest list; “we have to look at public demand,” as one staffer told me. Later, a journalist friend from the state confirmed that it was pure business for restaurants to whip up non-Keralite fare, given the post-COVID-19 rebuild of the tourism industry, and the influx of non-Malayalis who had made the state their home; the number, she added, is consistently on the rise.
If you travel to any other tourist hotspot, Goa in particular, similar scenes are played out. During one such trip, as part of a band of discerning foodies, we had to comb the entire shoreline to locate an eatery that served authentic Goan fare. Likewise, it’s common to come across buffet breakfasts that don’t serve Goan staples. I recall having to hunt far and wide to relish the humble pao during my visits, especially in the past decade. Few restaurants serve traditional fare, even in Panaji and Margao. The other options are either to take the high-end, fine-dine route, or prod a local friend to lead you to an unknown gem. This lack of adequate regional fare-serving eateries can have a huge impact on the culinary heritage of a state.
I return to my point, and raise the same question about restaurateurs in tourist hubs. It’s baffling for them to continue choosing to play safe and follow a boring, standard template, rather than opting to celebrate their rich, diverse homegrown cuisine. The regional fare that I relished in that tiny seaside town in Kerala was some of the best I’ve ever tasted during my many visits to the state. It could have easily been dubbed as ‘God’s Own Cuisine,’ if I were to tweak the famous tagline by the state’s tourism board.
Is it that owners are hesitant that they cannot ride on the steam [pun intended] of their own cuisine, and thus, rely on developing hotchpotch menus that the majority of guests seem content with? Why not attempt in small measure at least, to support local flavours, instead of blindly jumping onto the bandwagon of their counterparts? By doing this, they are diluting their state’s cuisine, and playing a key role in normalising and spreading a homogenised, predictable eating culture, which is now rampant across tourist hubs, towns, and cities in India.
That one hotel’s in-house restaurant menu may or may not be a microcosm of every eatery’s intent in the state. Smart economics might be key, but as a diehard fan of the state’s cuisine, I hope culinary custodians ensure that its fare doesn’t get entirely sidelined for the sake of good business and higher profits.
Change was certainly in the air, as we scoured menus in the neighbourhood during our time in that coastal town. But if things aren’t addressed in a timely manner, Kerala might go the Goa way.
Surely, God didn’t have such plans for his ‘country.’
mid-day’s Features Editor Fiona Fernandez relishes the city’s sights, sounds, smells and stones...wherever the ink and the inclination takes her.
She tweets @bombayana. Send your feedback to mailbag@mid-day.com
The views expressed in this column are the individual’s and don’t represent those of the paper.
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