If you happen to be in Tamilnadu this time of the year – when it’s hot, but not yet the peak of summer – there’s a high likelihood that you will come across carts of almost translucent-looking, plump, purple grapes, on the streets. The vendor will catch you ogling at them, and invite you over for a taste. You will choose a fat one that will hold the promise of juiciness, and pop it into your mouth. One bite, and the sun-warmed grape will fill your mouth with flavour – a delicious sweetness, with the hint of roses in it. You’ll encounter some seeds, too, which you can chomp down or spit out as you please.
I’m talking about none other than ‘Panneer Drakshe‘ (‘panneer‘ and not ‘paneer‘, mind you!), a special variety of grapes that is grown in Tamilnadu. ‘Panneer’ means ‘rose water’ in Tamil, hence the name. Also called ‘Indian Gulabi’, I’m not sure if this variety of grapes is as popular – or has even been heard of – outside the state of Tamilnadu.
On our recent trips to Tamilnadu, first to Madurai and then Kumbakonam, we had our fill of these gorgeous grapes. You should too, if you encounter them.
Walking inside the famed Adi Kumbeswara temple in Kumbakonam, the stone floor feeling cool against our bare feet, we are filled with a mix of awe and reverence. This Shiva temple has been in existence since the 7th century, the times of the Cholas, and is believed to be the inspiration behind the city’s name (Kumbakonam). Being armed with this bit of information from the Internet, how could we not feel like we were walking through a very, very sacred and special place?
We pay our respects to the main deity, admire the temple elephant, and head to Sri Mangalambiga Vilas, the little eatery that we have read a whole lot about and cannot wait to try out. It is, after all, an eatery that is over a century old, still going strong.
The dilapidated exterior of Sri Mangalambiga Vilas
Sri Mangalambiga Vilas looks ancient, non-descript, from the outside. It looks like an integral part of the temple, as if it has existed for as long as the temple has. A signboard outside the eatery proclaims ‘Since 1914’, but patrons believe it is even older than that. 1914 is only the ‘recorded’ date of existence.
We walk in and are instantly charmed by the old-world interior. The inside of the eatery today looks pretty much the same as it did when it started, I suppose. A few ancient tables and chairs, peeling paint on the walls, a painted-on menu, a billing clerk’s little table near the entrance, a little cashier’s desk, elderly service staff clad in shirts and veshtis – all of these elements combine to give us the feeling of a place suspended in time.
The eatery – popularly called ‘Sannadhi Kadai‘ or ‘Koil Kadai‘ aka ‘the shop in the temple’ – is well known for the delicious all-vegetarian fare that it serves. I hear there is a plantain-leaf ‘full meals’ in the afternoon, and traditional South Indian tiffin items in the mornings and evenings. There is also, of course, the famous South Indian filter coffee.
It is close to 7.30 PM when we visit, and only tiffin items are up for grabs. So, we decide to make an early dinner of these snacks. I ask for a plain dosa to be served with vada curry, while the husband orders adai avial, that not-so-famous-outside-of-Tamilnadu combination. We are asked if we want medu vadais to go with that, and we nod our heads in the affirmative.
Top: Plain dosa with vada curry, Bottom: Medu vadai, both at Sri Mangalambiga Vilas
The food arrives at our table almost immediately, with a lot of politeness and respect.
The plain dosa is neither too crisp nor too soggy, just perfect. It tastes homely, exactly like the dosas we make at home. The chutney and sambar served with are very simple, tasting like home, too. The medu vadai isn’t dripping with oil, as is common in hotels, but nice and homely.
The vada curry, however, is another story entirely. It tastes delish, but it is literally swimming in oil. It is way too spicy for the both of us, too. I cannot eat more than a couple of bites of it, and leave it as is.
The adai and avial, again, are quite homely. They don’t have that ‘hotel taste’ to them; they feel like the adai and avial we would prepare at home.
Everything – except the vada curry, that is – we taste that night at Sri Mangalambiga Vilas is homely, quite fresh, good but not exceptionally tasty.
Top: Rava dosai, Bottom: Adai-avial, both at Sri Mangalambiga Vilas
We head to Sri Mangalambiga Vilas again the next morning, for breakfast. We want to taste more of the tiffin offerings here.
The husband opts for some pooris with saagu, while I choose a rava dosai. Again, service is very prompt and courteous.
The poori-saagu has a homely feel to it, just like all the other food we had the last night. The saagu is not exceptional, but not bad either. The same is the case with my rava dosai, served with coconut chutney and sambar. Everything tastes very fresh.
Poori and saagu at Sri Mangalambiga Vilas
We get a couple of idlis for the bub, which have the same homely, non-hotel taste to them. We head back to our hotel room, sated, without the bloated stomachs and heaviness that often accompany meals outside of home. We would have paid a princely sum of INR 150 or so, in total, for both the meals we had here.
As we walk back, the husband and I ponder over what exactly makes this small joint tick with the locals. Is it the fact that the establishment is over a 100 years old – is that in itself an attraction? Is it the very affordable prices at which food is available here? Is it the homely quality of the food here? Is it because generations after generations of Kumbakonam natives are used to eating here, so used to it that it has become an automatic habit? Is it the simplicity, the old-world charm of the place? Is it a combination of all of these factors? We are unable to decide. The flavour of the food certainly doesn’t seem to be the driving force, at least not to us. Whatever be the case, we can vouch for the fact that eating at Sri Mangalambiga Vilas is an experience in itself. Eating here makes you feel like you are back in the 1920s or so, stocking up on tiffin after paying your respects at the temple, before heading home. It is, certainly, an experience that we would like to savour again. Next time, maybe.. We haven’t had their menthiya dosai (fenugreek dosa) and full meals yet, after all.
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Have you read my other posts about Kumbakonam? Do check them out!
The last, long weekend saw us in Kumbakonam, Tamilnadu, to honour certain long-standing religious commitments. And, while in Kumbakonam, how could we not stop and smell the coffee… er, the degree coffee.. and drink our fill of it, too? That is how this dream of mine got crossed off my bucket list, finally.
What on earth is ‘degree coffee’?
For the uninitiated, ‘degree coffee’ is just one of the things that the temple town of Kumbakonam is very famous for. What is interesting, though, is that there are no flashy signboards proclaiming the availability of the drink in hotels across town, nothing to make it a big tourist attraction. I mean, several hotels do have it on their menu, but it is quiet, understated, like a sort of guarded secret.
The degree coffee we tasted at a few places in Kumbakonam looks and tastes just like the regular filter coffee that is commonly available across Tamilnadu. So, what is the difference between the two?, we asked. As per the service staff at most hotels we tried out, degree coffee is made almost the same way as regular filter coffee. The only difference between the two is that degree coffee is made with pure cow’s milk, while the filter coffee is made from ‘packet milk’ aka pasteurised milk. We did come across milkmen delivering milk to hotels and homes in huge cans, from their farms, so this theory makes sense. The milk we ordered in for the bub in our hotel room in Kumbakonam did seem to taste very pure, fresh and delish. And, yes, after a few samplings, we did realise how the degree coffee tastes much fresher and better than ordinary filter coffee.
Why is ‘degree coffee’ called so?
No one, in Kumbakonam or otherwise, really seems to know the story behind the name ‘degree coffee’. There are quite a few other interesting legends about the name, though.
Some believe that this coffee was originally called ‘chicory coffee’, because chicory would be added to extract the full flavour from the coffee. Locals started calling it ‘tikeri coffee’, which, over time, changed to ‘degree coffee’.
Another explanation is that ‘degree coffee’ is made only with milk whose purity has been checked using a lactometer – that the degree markings on the meter led to the name.
Some people believe that ‘degree coffee’ is made using the first decoction from the filter – sometimes referred to as ‘first degree’. This is what gave the coffee its name.
Some people believe that the coffee was originally called ‘decree coffee’, which later morphed into ‘degree coffee’. A certain 19th century British Collector of the Thanjavur District loved the coffee that was served to him by a local cook in Kumbakonam so much that he decreed that he should be served similar coffee on all his travels.
Our experience
Whatever be the story behind its name, degree coffee certainly is outstanding. We tried it out several times over, and it was always lovely, fresh and aromatic and refreshing. Everywhere, it is served in little brass davara-tumblers – those quintessential South Indian vehicle for coffee – that are beyond cute. There’s definitely something special about Kumbakonam’s degree coffee.
Degree coffee at Hotel Venkatramana, Kumbakonam
I urge you to try out this coffee, if you haven’t ever.
Where?
Hotel Venkatramana and Murali’s Cafe are believed to be the best places in Kumbakonam to have degree coffee, though a few other restaurants serve it, too.
I hear there are a lot of ‘fake’ degree coffee joints dotting highways in Tamilnadu and several in Madras, too. I cannot claim to tell you about the authenticity (or not) of these places. If you are interested in authentic degree coffee, your best bet would be to head to Kumbakonam and try it out in the little eateries in town.
The World Through My Eyes 