Chef duo Ebaani Tewari and Mathew Varghese, who opened Kari Apla in Bandra last month, cook us a homecooked meal that maps their flavour inheritance
Mathew Varghese and Ebaani Tewari at their home in Bandra
The first time Ebaani Tewari and Mathew Varghese’s parents met to discuss their children’s wedding plans, the fathers abandoned the ‘meeting’ to buy rice. It was a hilsa cooked in a pressure cooker that Ebaani’s father ate at the Varghese household that sealed the family bond.
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“Food is our love language,” the chef couple, who opened Kari Apla in Bandra in October last year, narrates. The duo individually inherits a food lineage from Maharashtra and Kerala that is also deep-rooted in Goa, Kolkata, Andhra Pradesh, Gujarat, and Uttar Pradesh. Last Monday, we invited ourselves for ghar ka khana at their Bandra home and a freewheeling conversation on their day off.
“After work, our comfort meal is Asian,” Tewari, dressed in a light pink kurta, laughs, adding, “Not today.” As we settle in their cosy living room set with colourful cushions and knickknacks from their travels, the eyes gawk at the library— every title is a cookbook. “They always give you a new perspective and a good idea,” says Varghese, dressed in a printed blue shirt and shorts.
Tewari grew up in a “one, big food-loving family,” where days were planned around breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Sundays were fixed for lunch at her maternal grandmother’s home in Mahim with extended family. “My mother’s family is Maharashtrian Goan, and we’d be treated to a typical fish curry lunch of fish fry, sol kadi, and almost no vegetables unless in a salad,” she laughs.
On her father’s side, her grandfather was from UP and her grandmother traced her roots to Kakinada, in Andhra Pradesh. “I grew up eating rasam rice, aloo fry and Pesarattu dosa for breakfast when I visited her in Pune,” says Tewari. “My great-grandmother, who was also a great cook, made the best Andhra-style biryani, which has a green masala of chillies and coriander. She had lived with my great grandfather in the US and Sri Lanka, from where she picked up recipes from cultures around the world. Her tattered recipe book scribbled in Telugu includes gnocchi, ravioli, pumpkin pie and even Nigerian jollof rice.”
Tewari, who has worked at Bastian and Taj Land’s End, grew up picking up cooking inspiration from Travel and Living, Nigella Lawson, and recipe books she got for Christmas. She pursued Hospitality at IHM Mumbai and followed it up with a year at Le Cordon Bleu in London. “I was always in the hot kitchen, but in the lockdown, I turned to baking, which is when I revived the family pumpkin pie recipe,” she smiles.
Karwari Prawn Curry with ladyfinger
Mathew Varghese grew up in a Syrian Christian family in Kolkata. “Both my parents worked, and food at home was simple Malayali fare,” he says. “We were influenced by Bengali cuisine, thanks to our local cook. Birthdays and anniversaries meant a trip to China Town. The street food also influenced my palate, from the halwa puri of the Muslim community on our way to school, to the Bihari couple that ran our school canteen that exposed us to aloo and chole puri, egg chops and rolls.
We had a lady who earned the title of ‘momo aunty’ for selling steaming momos outside school. Even our teachers would rush to her stand as her offerings ran out within minutes.” Nostalgia is the Syrian Christian community’s week-long annual fair. “We were a community of 300 members, and all the grandmothers and aunties would make special foods for the event—appam, chicken, mutton and vegetable stews, thoran and biryani that was not too masaledar, but made with a korma of brown onions, cashew paste in ghee with whole spices sourced from Kerala.”
Only last week, his parents brought Sugiyama, a dal mixture with jaggery that they batter fried like a bonda. “I ate it after 15 years!” The conversation moves to the kitchen, where Tewari heats the oil to fry fish cutlets that Varghese has prepped. “I grew up eating mashed surmai fish cutlets soured with kadam poli, a kokum variation from Kerala,” he says. In many homes, they use raw mango as a souring agent as well.”
Kerala-style Fish cutlets
“We like to pair our traditional foods together,” says Tewari, putting the Karwari prawn curry, her mother’s recipe, to heat on a slow flame. “Both our foods have a coastal influence, so it comes together well like this curry with a Kerala-style cabbage thoran,” she adds.
The duo finds it intriguing to discover ordinary sensibilities within their food cultures. “Over time, we have realised many dishes in different regions are similar with different names. Puran Poli of Maharashtra is Kerala’s Boli,” says Varghese. “The only difference is Maharashtrians go heavy on elaichi. The Kerala version is nutmeg forward. Similarly, with modaks—the Maharashtrian version is intricately folded, but the south Indians roll it into golas,” Tewari adds.
As we set the table, Varghese confesses, “She makes better Kerala fare than I do; she has cracked the code for making appams.” The meal is proof of their food synergy. The couple moved back to the city from Gurgaon where Mathew worked with Comorin till last year, to birth their dream project: “To cook our traditional eats our way. We have set our menu with a lot of help from family.”
“We wanted to offer traditional dishes without mixing them up. Because we have experiences in the European and Asian kitchens, we wanted to use the techniques and plate it differently, but we have not tampered with the flavours,” says Tewari.
The menu is concise and evolving as they continue to add dishes. “One interesting dish yet to be featured on the menu is a pothichoru—tempered curd rice with fish and omelette. I added a Sri Lankan eggplant moju (curry), to which Mathew added a pumpkin emissary. The idea is to create traditional flavours and pair them with complimenting elements. I made a batch that lasted us two weeks,” quips Tewari.
Another dessert in trials is Maharashtrian chirote. “We realised it resembles Orissa’s khaja and even the Italian dessert Sfogliatella. “Our restaurant journey is a journey of food revelations,” says Varghese, taking the example of saag. “In Pakistan, they temper it with coriander seeds, which makes it different from the Indian version. The older generation, that has witnessed the Partition, recognises the taste difference. We are constantly discovering new perspectives across regions,” he explains, passing us a serving of kaya pola, a Kerala-style banana bread.
Unearthing the evidence
Ebaani’s father, Samir Tewari, says their kitchen has influences from Andhra and Uttar Pradesh, Bihar, and Rajasthan. “We ate Rajasthani pakode waali kadhi chawal with sukka aloo, dahi aloo with parathas, Andhra green mutton biryani, tomato rasam, mutton palak, lahsun aloo, tomato dal, palak dal, Andhra mango fish curry, tomato til chutney, dal chutney, poori aloo. One dish dear to me is the mutton palak my mother made, which we still make at home. Now my wife has mastered it.”
Her mother, Muktal, says, “My roots are Maharashtrian, Goan, Karwari and Gujarati, so we ate Goan Prawn curry as well as the Gujarati peas patties and dal dhokla thanks to my mother’s Gujarati friends. Mutton chops and stuffed crabs were the dishes the entire family would look forward to. [Making them]was an event where everyone would be involved.” “Our family makes avial, karimeen moilee, and meat cutlets in the traditional Kerala style. The recipes have been passed down for generations, and we have never altered them. Cooking is a form of generational treasure,” says Mini Varghese, Mathew’s mother.
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