Kozhikode has long been hailed as a foodie town. The culture in Mappila Muslim homes is food-centric, and oodles of thought and attention goes into every meal. Outside of a Malabari home, restaurants like Paragon, Bombay Hotel and Rehmat Hotel, which have been around for decades, serve up some of Kerala’s best food. Therefore, it comes as little surprise that Kozhikode is the birthplace of Adaaminte Chayakada (Adaam’s Teashop). Its present avatar is Adaaminte Adhbudha Nombuthora (Adaam’s incredible iftar), a pop-up that has been garnering a lot of attention on social media platforms within the first week of operation. Curious to see what the fuss is about, I make the three-hour drive to Kozhikode with two hungry relatives in tow.

The first thing that strike us is how aware people are of the five-day-old pop-up — everyone on the streets we ask for directions points the right way. And if that isn’t a sure-enough sign, the aroma of something delicious being deep-fried that tickles our nostrils even before we enter the gates seals the deal. Adaaminte Chayakada is the brainchild of Aneez Adam, a London School of Economics graduate who quit investment banking in the pursuit of his passion, food. His first pop-up was at the Mathrubhumi Malabar Food Festival in January this year. A newcomer to the food scene in Kerala, Adam’s stall grabbed eyeballs and won several awards. This was a major turning point for Adam, and led to the creation of the brand Adaaminte Chayakada, after which there has been no looking back.

The concept is simple. Chicken cooked every which way you can think of — shallow-fried, deep-fried, steamed, grilled, slow-cooked. Food that Adam encounters along the way on his travels becomes the prototype and inspiration at Adaaminte Chayakada, albeit with a distinctive Malayali twist. Traditional Kerala spices transform chicken satay, the Malaysian classic. Rotisserie chicken, called naraga kozhi in these parts (roughly translating into ‘hell’s chicken’), is sold as swargathile kozhi , (chicken from the heavens) after Adam’s touch. A whole chicken stuffed with eggs and dry fruits, basted in spices and slow-cooked to perfection. The dishes at Adaaminte Chayakada have witty Malayalam names, and although they lose their charm when translated, they always draw a chuckle from the customers. The naming of the dishes , an important part of the brand image, plays a pivotal role in the whole act. Adam hits upon a name, and then sets about to create a dish that fits it. “I have come up with almost 90 names,” he says. At least one new item is added to the pop-up menu daily. The new entry on the day we visit is ‘the one without a name’ — a skewered keema kebab of sorts, batter-fried.

Adam’s enthusiasm is infectious, and his battalion of 12 cooks and serving staff seem as passionate about feeding the hungry as he is. Besides chicken, the pop-up on Convent Road has Malabari iftar staples like samosas, stuffed plantains, mutta maala (a dessert made with eggs and sugar syrup), and cutlets. But what gets me most excited are the five types of tea. The most popular is a traditional infusion of black tea, lime and mint, called kimothi albani , a playful nod to a line in a popular regional movie where a Malayali pretends to speak Arabic. Another interesting variation is black tea with ghee and condensed milk that simmers on a back-burner for hours.

Located in the front-yard of Adam’s ancestral home, the decor is lively — kitsch teapots and lanterns are hung all over, and the verandah, with three tables and benches on either side, is the cosy seating area. Although most customers prefer to parcel the food, we see families walk in close to sunset, choose from the items on sale and make themselves at home on the verandah. Glasses filled with pistachio sherbet and platters of juicy dates — both starters in the iftar lexicon — are placed on every table. Next, rattan trays lined with banana leaves arrive laden with food. The anticipation in the air is palpable. As someone signals the call of the azaan, a hush descends over the teashop as everyone tucks into the food.

Everything tastes amazing, but my favourite is the ‘nameless’ chicken and the parcels of beef cooked in tomatoes and green chillies. Adam looks excited as he shares his plans of expanding the business to West Asia. In the middle of the conversation, he slips away for a few minutes to return with a paper cup. Drink this, he tells me. I take a sip of what seems to be watermelon juice spiked with green chillies and a hint of something I can’t put my finger on. I love it, I tell him. Adam, while politely refusing to divulge the secret spice in the drink, shakes his head and mutters, “Not enough chilli”.

We spend at least an hour lingering over the food, giving up only when the stomach protested. It was worth the three-hour drive.

Aysha Tanyais a Kannur-based food writer

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