Tourists swear by Kerala. They fall into raptures describing its “immodest greens” (for one must quote The God of Small Things ), the freshest of seafood, the gentle backwaters, and the “swaying coconut trees” (the coconut trees must sway). But Kerala Tourism has another suggestion on its website. Why not visit its toddy shops? And that is what we did. On the outskirts of Kochi, we found ourselves at the Nettoor kallushap (or toddy bar). Located just off the highway, plastic tables and chairs sit by the backwaters, down which hyacinth and boats soundlessly glide. While Kerala Tourism warns, “The consumption of alcohol by women does not go down well with the largely male-dominated society of Kerala, and so women stay away from these places,” these places must be visited. Not for their canisters of toddy, which carries a gentle whiff of stale vomit. But for the food. The kallushap’s peak hours are not late evenings, as one might imagine. But Sundays after Church. After all, how can a benediction be complete for a Malayali, without a tipple?
The handwritten menu boasts duck, beef curry and fry, crabs, prawns, liver, chicken organs, mussels, clams, anchovies, pork, even rabbit. But Ashokan, our garrulous waiter that afternoon, tells us rabbit is unavailable. We ‘make do’ with the seafood. He has been working at the Nettoor kallushap for close to 20 years and feels that the talk of the ban on bars might get people more interested in the local alcohol shops, such as this one, which will not be affected. More than prohibition, however, he worries about the lack of waiters. Two recently ran away. One to become a photographer, he says, eyeing our colleague with the camera.
He returns a few minutes later carrying a glass of toddy, and plates of roasted crab, sautéed prawns, sautéed mussels, tapioca and fish curry. And bits of neatly torn newspaper. “This is naadan (local) style,” he says, nearly apologetic about his indigenous napkins. We sip, we crack open the crab, we dip tapioca cubes into the all-fire-and-heat fish curry, we watch a boatman dock his boat, eavesdrop on drunken dreams, lick our fingers and think what a wonderful world it is.
PS — Our bill came to ₹306.
(Photos by Thulasi Kakkat and Text , Nandini Nair)