First Pachadi in our New Home: Vankaya Tomato Pachadi

 Talking about roti pachadi, the one of the many pachadi's that truly melt my heart is Vankaya Tomato Pachadi — that humble mix of brinjal and tomato that feels like a warm hug on a busy day. I only need hot rice, a generous scoop of this pachadi, and a good dollop of ghee. Mixing it all by hand — yes, burning my fingers a little in the process — and taking that first messy, perfect bite. Pure bliss.

This pachadi doesn’t come with silly stories or kitchen mishaps; it carries quiet memories filled with love and the gentle rhythms of home. I can still see amma in her soft cotton saree, standing by the stove, humming softly as the smell of brinjals and tomatoes cooking fills the kitchen. The sizzle of oil, the earthy scent of the spices, and the way she’d call us with a shout — no need to get up or walk over, just a warm, loving call that pulled us right in.

And us, lying around like lazy geese, shouting back with a stretched-out, “Haaaaa… enti amma?” That simple exchange felt like a secret language, a thread connecting all those ordinary days into something magical.

There’s a softness to those memories—the kind that wraps around you like your favorite shawl on a chilly evening. The smell of the pachadi simmering, the warmth of the kitchen, and the sight of amma working quietly with steady hands—it’s a comfort that never fades. Even now, when I close my eyes and breathe in, I can almost taste that perfect blend of tang and spice, and it’s like a gentle smile spreading from the inside out.

There’s a gentle rhythm to those memories—the way the kitchen felt warm and safe, how the pachadi’s tangy-spicy aroma wrapped around everything like a cozy blanket. Amma’s hands moving steadily, chopping, stirring, always with a quiet kind of love. It’s funny how such small, everyday moments become the ones you miss the most when you move away or when life gets busy.

Now, after shifting to our new home in Hyderabad, the first roti pachadi I made was this. Because some tastes do more than satisfy hunger—they make a new place feel like home, one spoonful at a time.

Ingredients

• 4–5 ripe tomatoes, chopped

• ½ kg long purple brinjals, chopped

• 1 tbsp chana dal

• 1 tbsp urad dal

• 1 tsp mustard seeds

• A pinch of fenugreek seeds

• ½ tsp coriander seeds

• 5–6 dried red chillies

• 3–4 green chillies

• A pinch of hing

• ¼ tsp turmeric powder

• Small lemon-sized tamarind

• Salt, to taste

• Oil, for sautéing

Instructions:

1. In a pan, heat oil and roast chana dal, urad dal, mustard seeds, fenugreek, and coriander seeds until golden. Add dry red chillies and hing—roast until aromatic. Set aside to cool.

2. In another pan, sauté the chopped brinjals till soft. Remove.

3. In the same pan, cook the tomatoes and green chillies until soft. Add turmeric, tamarind, and salt. Let everything cool.

4. First grind the roasted spices into a fine powder. Without removing that, add the sautéed veggies and grind again—not too fine. Add coriander leaves if you'd wish too while grinding.

Srishti’s Secret Tip for the Perfect Pachadi:

Don’t rush the roasting—wait till the dals deepen in color and release that warm, toasty aroma. That’s where all the soul is hiding.

Srishti’s Healing Tip for the Perfect Plate:

Some foods don’t ask questions. They just hold you where you are—whether it’s your amma’s kitchen or a just-moved-into home—and quietly remind you, “You’re okay.”

Why You’ll Love This:

• That smoky-tangy-spicy punch only this pachadi brings

• Taste that's amazing with or without coriander

• Comfort food that tastes like a hug from the inside