Pesarattu (Peh-sa-rhet-too)

Growing up, pesarattu was one of those rare healthy meals that I didn’t just enjoy, but enthusiastically asked for as well. It was not made often as it was not my dad’s favourite, but perhaps it is the sporadicalness of the meal that made me crave it more. My mom explored her Andhra roots every time my dad went out of town. Funnily enough, abhorring change, I think my dad also preferred that my mom wasn’t experimenting with dinners when he was around to taste them. Of course, I was absolutely behind anything that took me away from the boring routine of the sambar, rasam, and beans triangle. Bleh!

I would actually slowly start planting ideas in my mom’s head from the time the door closed behind my dad. 

“Mint pulao,” I’d whisper in one ear. 

“Pesarattu,” I’d say in the other. 

“Aloo paratha,” over her head. 

My sister would be sitting with her nose in a book and no opinions on the matter, as usual. 

I had to plant the seeds early, you see, because some recipes like pesarattu needed time to soak the green gram. That way, by the time I was back from school, the batter would be ready. Ground with onions, ginger, and chillies, my mom took that thick batter and roasted it to golden perfection with a swirl of sesame oil. She would then spread some tomato-ginger chutney inside the crispy dosa and sprinkle some finely chopped raw onions. The dosa itself had a beany taste, but it’s actually the roasting of the dosa that makes all the difference. Like fine caramel, taking it to the edge gives it more flavour. That, with a side of curd and molagapodi is one of my favourite childhood memories. I love when my mom goes Andhra. There are so many fascinating recipes that come out, most of them involving tamarind (something I would take as a drip because it will then enter my veins directly,) and an incredible amount of chillies. The punch that Andhra food gives, makes you a glutton for punishment. You’ll be crying and wiping your nose, but you won’t stop eating. 

In Andhra, pesarattu is more of a Winter dish as all that use of chillies and ginger keeps your body nice and warm. As much as I use ginger in most of my cooking, I try to avoid anything that puts ginger on the front lines. But with pesarattu, I don’t mind the overdose of ginger. Something about the combination of the sprouty taste of green gram and the spice and heat from the ginger makes it a brilliant combination. Much like sushi and pickled ginger. 

I like to soak my grams overnight, giving it enough time to get to the almost-sprouty stage, making it easier for my Ninja juicer to grind it to a pulp. Blend that with a small onion, a small piece of ginger, and 4-5 green chillies (See what I mean about Andhra food and chillies,) as smooth as possible. It’ll still be a touch coarse, but that is okay. Add about a teaspoon of cumin seeds and half a cup of water. Taste for salt and adjust. Your pesarattu batter is now ready. 

You want to prepare the chutney before you start making the pesarattu because you’ll have to spread it inside. Instead of the traditional ginger chutney, I just modify my tomato chutney with some ginger. Blitz two blanched and peeled tomatoes with a couple of garlic pods, ginger, a small onion, 4-5 dried red chillies, and a tiny ball of tamarind. In a pot, fry some mustard in hot oil, add a few curry leaves and pour in the tomato blend. Add some salt and reduce the temperature to slow cook the chutney. It’s done when the oil separates from the chutney. Keep that ready along with a cup of finely chopped onions before beginning with the pesarattu. 

The basics of cooking pesarattu is a lot like dosa, adai, or even crepes. On a hot tawa, preferably cast iron, drop a big gravy spoon of batter onto it. Starting from the center, swirl outside until you push out all the batter and form a circle. Add a generous spoon of sesame oil all around the circle and reduce the heat. Unlike dosa, however, pesarattu needs patience. It’s not about the quick heat. Green gram takes a while to cook through, so you want to aim for a slow roast. Take your time, peek under there every once in a while, and when you are satisfied with the colour, flip it over and wait again. I like to press around the edges to make sure they also get roasted properly. They are a little thicker than the center and could use some help. Once you are happy with the colour, flip back and spread some of that spicy chutney on one half. Sprinkle on the onions and fold the pesarattu onto itself. 

Tradition is that pesarattu is served with a ginger chutney, but recently I discovered a roasted pepper chutney and I will use any excuse to make it again and again. In a pan, dry roast a teaspoon of channa dal, a teaspoon of urud dal, and 3-4 dried red chillies. Once roasted, add a chopped onion and red or green pepper and cook until soft. Cool them down a bit and blitz until smooth. Season with salt and a dash of lemon juice. Temper the chutney with some roasted mustard seeds, curry leaves, and one dried red chilli. Serve on the side of pesarattu. 

Up for some healthy yummy weekend breakfast? 

AuthorPriyanka SivaramakrishnanDifficultyBeginner

AuthorPriyanka SivaramakrishnanDifficultyBeginner