Scarlet spice

Chilli is so enmeshed in our culture that it’s more than just food; it is folklore, write Anurag Mallick & Priya Ganapathy

Tezpur chillies from North East. PHOTO BY AUTHOR

It’s hard to imagine Indian food without chilli. Be it Rajasthani laal maas, Kashmiri rogan josh, Puneri misal, Kolhapuri mutton rassa, Goan vindaloo, Mangalorean chicken ghee roast, Saoji mutton or Mysore Masala Dosa that’s smeared with red chutney ...all these would not be the same without this alluring scarlet spice? Chilli is what breathes fire into Andhra food and Marathi cuisine. Yet, 500 years ago it didn’t exist in our lives. All chillies found around the world today have their origins in Mexico, Central America and South America.

Along with maize, potato, tomato, pineapple and other crops, chilli spread via Spanish and Portuguese colonists, missionaries and traders through a culinary and cultural cross-pollination event called the Columbian Exchange. In the 16th century, Portuguese traders carried chillies from Brazil via Lisbon to their settlements in Africa and Asia. Within 50 years of arriving in Spain, chilli was dispersed across the West African coast, North Africa, the Middle East, Italy, the Balkans, Eastern Europe and Asia. Chillies conquered the world faster than any religion or expansionist power.

One of the oldest cultivated crops in the Americas, chillies, have been part of the human diet for 7,500 years. South America, where most of the world’s wild chillies are found, has them in diverse shapes, colours, textures and tastes. Peru alone has over 50 varieties. The word capsicum derives from Greek ‘kapto’ meaning ‘to bite’ and the substance that imparts pungency is called capsaicin, measured in Scoville units. When Christopher Columbus encountered chilli in the Caribbean, which he mistook for India, he erroneously called it ‘pepper’. Before the advent of chilli, the main source of heat in Indian cuisine was due to pipalli (long pepper) and maricham (black pepper), called menasu in Kannada or milagu in Tamil. In India, chillies were introduced first in the Portuguese colonies in Goa, from where they dispersed to Maharashtra and South India. Unlike pepper, chillies were easier to grow, adapted to a wide range of soil and climatic conditions, were available all year round and cheap. It spread through the subcontinent like wildfire and quickly replaced the more expensive black pepper as the preferred spice.

Extolling its virtues, renowned South Indian composer Purandaradasa (1484-1564) notes, “I saw you green, then turning redder as you ripened, nice to look at, and tasty in a dish, but too hot if an excess is used. Saviour of the poor, enhancer of good food, fiery when bitten, even to think of Panduranga Vitthala is difficult.” Ain-i-Akbari, written in 1590, mentions 50 dishes in Akbar’s court; all used only pepper, chilli was conspicuous by its absence. In the 17th century, when Shivaji’s Maratha army marched north to challenge the Mughal Empire, the chilli migrated to north India. Legend has it that the Marathas could fight the Mughals only because the chillies they ate made them fierce and bellicose. Initially, chillies were used for pickles and chutneys, before making their way into other preparations by the 18th century.

Chilli adapted well to Indian climate. It was easy to sun dry them to a fiery redness that made food attractive. The Sankeshwari chilli’s burst of orange gives Kolhapuri cuisine its heat while the red, pungent Nalchetti infuses fire into Nagpur’s food. The explosive green chilli chutney Thecha literally sounds like a gunshot to the head. Maharashtra’s love for spice is matched only by Andhra Pradesh, the country’s biggest chilli producer. Guntur district, India’s largest trading hub, is renowned for the thick-skinned and popular Sannam while its variant, the sharp, peppery Teja is the hottest. If Nellore grows red-hot Madras Pari, Warangal has its chappatta, a tomato red chilli with a mild flavour. The orange-hued Tadepalli wears a thick skin and is less pungent. In Byadgi, Karnataka’s chilli town, vast stacks are continually sorted by local ladies. Kaddi is long and thin, dark red and strongly wrinkled. The broader dabbi imparts a bright red colour and is widely used in Karnataka, Goan and Marathi cuisine, especially in the spice mix Goda Masala. It also created a large oleoresin extraction industry as the red pigment is greatly valued in food and cosmetics. Bengaluru has two varieties — the Bangalore Torpedo and the long curly Bangalore Whippet’s Tail. Harekala Menasu, a chefs’ favourite, grows only in monsoon soil deposits along the Netravati riverbank at Harekala near Mangaluru. It is used as a powder in tovve, huli and rasam, imparting a distinct taste and colour to fish and chicken curries. Every region has its specialties and each variety imparts a unique flavour or colour profile suited to a specific dish; a wrong chilli choice could ruin it. Mathania chilli adds colour to Rajasthani cuisine but the sharp bite of Longi gives the famous Bikaneri bhujia and namkeen savouries a distinct flavour. Indoriyas love charkha (spicy) flavours, thanks to chilli from Nimar. Gujarat’s Reshampatti — short, broad and conical with a maroon hue and medium heat is used to spice pickles. Boria, round-shaped like ber (berries), whose seeds rattle when dry, is preferred as tadka for dal and kadhi. The mild Bhavnagari Mirch is ideal as stuffed mirchi or salan while Jwala, literally volcano, is a finger hot pepper from southern Gujarat that’s the most popular green chilli.

Tamil Nadu’s Ramnad mundu or Gundu Molzuka enhances the flavour of Chettinad cuisine. In Goa, the reddish-brown, pungent Harmal chilli is the soul of a Chicken Xacuti while the short, bright orange Titimitti is preferred for prawn curry. The blackish Aldona chillis come in two variants — Butao (button-shaped) or the thick-skinned Motio (fat), which adds a dark hue to sorpotel and vindaloo. Goa’s star is the bright red Canacona chilli while the small spicy piri piri, good for papads, was called Tarvoti (sailors) lavangi, because the Portuguese brought it by sea.

The thumb rule is bigger the chilli, the milder it is, smaller the chilli, the hotter it is. The long, red, wrinkled and deceptively hot Puya from Punjab is an exception, but it holds true of the bird eye chilli. Called Dhani in Manipur, Kandhari in Kerala and Parangi malu (literally ‘Foreign chilli’) in Coorg, it flavours pandi curry and its signature kick finds use in wine, juice and jam. The tiny chilli ranges from green, blood red, black and purple in colour. Kanthari White, a milder ivory-coloured version turns red when ripe and is used as a condiment after soaking in yoghurt and salt, and sun drying it. Yet, nothing beats North East’s Naga, Raja or Tezpuri chilli aka Bhut jolokia, mistakenly called ‘ghost pepper’; bhut refers to its Bhutanese origin. Crowned the world’s hottest chilli in 2007, it was later dethroned by Trinidad Moruga Scorpion and Carolina Reaper. Having tasted chilli in all its glorious forms, we have realised that its appeal is indeed captivating.

(The authors are travel/food writers and culinary consultants ‘loosely based’ in Bengaluru. With two decades of books/articles behind them, they run a travel/media outfit customising solutions for the hospitality industry. Chase their adventures on Instagram @red_scarab.)