Ammachi’s Moru Kachiyathu Is What Summer Tastes Like

Ammachi’s Moru Kachiyathu Is What Summer Tastes Like

Blessy Thomas takes us back to her childhood ancestral home in Kerala. There, in her Ammachi’s bustling kitchen, she would seek refuge from the summer heat in a cold tumbler of tempered buttermilk.

Moru, or Moru Kachiyathu, is a tempered buttermilk dish from Kerala. It is often served as a side dish or a simple, comforting drink made with curd, tempered with mustard seeds, curry leaves, and spices, as an essential part of hot summer months. Its cooling properties make it a natural remedy against the heat of summer; the balance of tanginess and spices bringing flavour to any meal.

Growing up, my grandmother Ammachi, Sosamma Thomas, would make this drink in her kitchen in Maramon, Kerala, by the Pamba river. The house was always bustling with sounds of our extended family — cousins running around, the clang of cooking vessels, and the gentle hum of Ammachi’s quiet presence. A woman of few words, it was her cooking that spoke volumes. 

Every summer, we would leave behind Goa’s salt-laced air for the deeper, spicier heat of our ancestral home in Kerala. We’d travel from Goa to this haven, whose heart was Ammachi’s kitchen. Before we arrived, she would prepare maavuunda (roasted rice ladoos), sun-dried bananas, and crunchy kuzhalappams — treats stashed away in tin boxes, safely hidden from the mischievous hands of grandchildren. It was the moru kachiyathu that always stood out. It holds a special place for me, as it was one of the first things I learned to make, simply by watching her.

Her moru kachiyathu was summer in a glass: sour buttermilk tempered with mustard seeds, curry leaves, shallots, ginger, and red chillies. It wasn’t fancy but it had the power to revive even the sleepiest child melting under a fan. We drank it cold from steel tumblers after a morning of chasing dragonflies, or ate it alongside kanji when the meal was meant to be light, comforting, and easy.

Now in my own Goan kitchen, I stir the same buttermilk gently, careful not to let it boil — Ammachi’s golden rule. The fragrance of tempered spices transports me back to that sticky, noisy kitchen, where love simmered in coconut oil, and tradition.

Moru Kachiyathu is still my go-to on days that are too hot, too long, or too much. It may be a humble buttermilk curry, but it holds generations — cooling us, grounding us, and reminding us of home.

Recipe for Ammachi’s Moru Kachiyathu

Serves four

Ingredients
2 cups curd
¼ teaspoon mustard seed
5 dried red chilies
1 sprig curry leaves
6 shallots
½ tablespoon ginger (finely chopped)
½ teaspoon garlic (finely chopped)
¼ teaspoon fenugreek powder
½ teaspoon turmeric powder
½ teaspoon chilli powder
Coconut oil

Method
Whisk curd with water until smooth and slightly frothy — just enough to resemble the consistency of thin buttermilk. Set it aside. Sour curd works best for this dish. Heat coconut oil in a pan — traditionally a clay chatti. Add mustard seeds and let them splutter. Drop in dried red chilies and fresh curry leaves, letting them crackle and crisp up.
Add finely sliced shallots along with chopped ginger and garlic. Sauté until golden and fragrant, filling your kitchen with the familiar warmth of Kerala homes.
Sprinkle in turmeric, chilli, and a pinch of fenugreek powder. Stir for a minute, letting the spices release their colour and aroma into the oil.
Reduce the flame to low. Slowly pour in the prepared buttermilk. Add salt to taste and stir gently.
Let it heat through, stirring occasionally — but never let it boil. Watch closely, as Ammachi would say, because once it boils, it curdles.
Simmer just until the edges begin to bubble. Turn off the heat.
Serve warm with rice or kanji. Or pour into steel tumblers and drink as a summer cooler.

Living in Goa, Blessy Thomas is a full-time mum and writer who prefers cooking quietly from memory and cookbooks, with no food page to follow—just meals made and shared at home.



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