a fruit from childhood

Is this the season of jack-fruits? Why is it that I am talking about the jack fruit? For the last few weeks jack fruits have not only been spotted on trees, but have filled up newspaper columns, magazine covers, posters and what not! The State of Kerala has elevated the heavy and humble fruit, often refered to as 'the poor man's mango' by giving it the status of the official fruit of Kerala. Reasons for doing so are many: Firstly, jackfruit tree doesn't require much care and it bears fruits abundantly. And what can you not do with the jackfruit?  A main course, an appetizer, wine, jam, pickle, chips, savories, snacks- jack fruit does it all for you! For these reasons and many more, jack fruit is definitely the jack of all fruits.
  However, I am not going to talk about the jack fruit. I think it has got its fair share of attention. Enough has been said about the fruit. Long live the jack fruit!

Today's blog is about a humbler fruit, known by the name Garcinia Combogia. It is also known as kudampuli or malabar tamarind.

There was a huge kudampuli tree next to the compound wall of our home in Kottayam , and its yellow fruits would fall into our compound, splashing the pulp across our car porch and veranda.
Those days, Ammachi would gather all those juicy, round fruits and keep it in a shade somewhere in the house. Once she has gathered enough, it was a ritual for her to sit down and slice the fruit into thin petals, arrange it on a moram laid with newspaper, and keep it under sunlight. This was a year round process, I remember. Especially during monsoon, I remember the fruits being dried under the fan. Once it had all dried up- that's when it attains a black color- it was stored in a large bharani for later use. I don't think I knew its culinary purpose back then- that it added the much needed flavour to our fiery red fish curry.
I never fancied the curled up black tamarind pieces floating in the fish curry those days.

A month ago, I saw an amazon pack on Nithin's table and opened it to see what he had ordered. I was amused to find a nicely packed batch of kudampuli inside. I checked the address to see where they have shipped it from. It mentioned a place in Ernakulam. As I kept the kudampuli pack in the refrigerator, I thought of the magnificent tree that once stood in all its glory near my home and how much the fruit means to me now, 15 years later. My Ammachi would have had a hearty laugh if she had found her grandchildren placing online orders for kudampuli.

the kudampuli fruits

Dried kudampuli ( I lifted this photograph from an amazon page)

Today I cooked some fish curry in coconut milk for lunch. As I peeled off the kudampuli into small pieces, I thought I missed the yellow fruit that I never paid any attention to in my childhood. I suddenly realised that I haven't seen the fruit in so many years!
Hence the spot light on kudampuli

fish curry bubbling away in a mud chatty on my kitchen stove