The Anatomy of a Dish

How a young chef composed a degustation menu that reimagines the south indian monsoons.

Every day, we gather around our media kitchen and mix petri dishes of vernacular storytelling with South Indian food. We watch what bubbles up—what memory is stirred? What deserves to be preserved? What needs to shift?

From the beginning of Pinch of South, our experiments have circled one question: how can you tell a story through food—one that feels both new and timeless? One way we’ve begun to answer this is through Story Table—our intimate, immersive dining experiences, where food and thematic performances come together.

For our first edition, we chose to honor the monsoon and the rhythms of the season—wisdom that has been passed down for centuries. Guests were invited to an evening of Rasa Varshini. Tables were dressed with coconut shells, Channapatna centerpieces, candles, and napkins in Madras checks. Bright jammakkalams were rolled out under an archway of తాటి ఆకుల అలంకరణ (Tāṭi ākula alaṅkaraṇa), little birds woven from coconut leaves.

The first and greatest task, though, was to build a menu around the theme. A menu that evoked the monsoons of South India yet balanced familiarity with novelty. And this challenge fell to a young chef: Vivaswath Tanikella, fresh from his graduation at WGSHA, Manipal.

Building a menu is an everyday task for a chef. But what does it mean to create a dish that not only fills a place on the plate but also fits into a story? A dish that becomes a story of its own?

When we asked Vivaswath about his first reaction to Rasa Varshini, he admitted he didn’t know where to begin. The name sounded beautiful, yes, but impossibly large. “Then I thought, rain means comfort food,” he said. From there, the ideas began to take shape.

He thought of the “deep comfort” moment in the middle of a meal—not too light, not too heavy, a pause in the rain. He remembered ice apples shared by the poolside on grey afternoons, and later, bowls of steaming paya soup, warm and indulgent against the damp chill. These were the memories that carried him into his dish.

But how do you translate such private nostalgia into something playful, something others can taste? Vivaswath began experimenting. He talked his ideas out with friends, jotted notes, and returned to the kitchen again and again. He thought: what if the feeling of paya soup could arrive in another form, one closer to the street-side bajji or pakoda? What if it was a croquette?

The process tested him. Binding the filling without turning it dense was a challenge. He worked in cycles of joy and frustration—moments of discovery when a crisp shell cracked to reveal silk inside, and failures when the croquette fell apart. He returned, always, to the question: does it still taste like paya?

What finally emerged was a golden croquette, crisp on the outside, smoky and tender within. Alongside it, he served a small cup of clarified paya broth—light, steaming, unmistakable. The dish balanced crunch and warmth, nostalgia and surprise. The broth anchored it to tradition, while the croquette let it play.

On the table, it stood out. Golden against the dark broth, it looked like light in the middle of a rainy night. Guests cracked the croquette open, sipped the broth, and lingered in that pause of comfort that Vivaswath had imagined.

And because every story wants to travel, here is Vivaswath’s recipe, his way of bottling monsoon comfort.

Paya Croquette with Clarified Broth

(Serves 4 as an appetizer)

For the filling

• 250 g mutton paya meat, slow-cooked and shredded

• 1 small onion, finely chopped

• 1 green chilli, slit

• 1 tsp ginger-garlic paste

• ½ tsp turmeric powder

• 1 tsp coriander powder

• 1 tsp garam masala

• Salt, to taste

• 2 tbsp ghee

For binding and coating

• 2 medium potatoes, boiled and mashed

• 2 tbsp breadcrumbs

• 1 egg, beaten (or a slurry of rice flour and water for a vegetarian option)

• Breadcrumbs for coating

• Oil for deep-frying

For the clarified broth

• 1 litre mutton paya stock (from boiling trotters with onion, ginger, garlic, and spices)

• 1 egg white

• A pinch of crushed pepper

Method

1. In a pan, heat ghee. Sauté onions, green chilli, and ginger-garlic paste till golden. Add spices and salt, then fold in shredded paya meat. Cook until dry. Cool.

2. Mix the spiced meat with mashed potatoes and breadcrumbs. Shape into small croquettes. Dip in beaten egg, coat in breadcrumbs, and set aside.

3. For the broth, whisk an egg white into the stock and bring to a gentle simmer. Strain carefully—this removes impurities, leaving a clear, golden broth. Season with pepper.

4. Deep-fry the croquettes until crisp and golden. Serve hot, with a small cup of clarified broth on the side.

   
   

The journey continues. In September, a new Story Table awaits, with another theme and another menu ready to carry you into its world. Follow us on Instagram for updates. We can’t wait to welcome you back to the table.