Did appam come to Kerala through the Jews? A look at Kochi’s global kitchen
Jewish communities in Mumbai, Kolkata and Kochi prepared early versions of fermented rice–coconut batters, which then travelled across the Indian Ocean during colonial migration.
Jewish communities in Mumbai, Kolkata and Kochi prepared early versions of fermented rice–coconut batters, which then travelled across the Indian Ocean during colonial migration.
Jewish communities in Mumbai, Kolkata and Kochi prepared early versions of fermented rice–coconut batters, which then travelled across the Indian Ocean during colonial migration.
Kochi’s cuisine is celebrated for its mix of influences, but few dishes illustrate this better than the humble appam. Most Keralites think of appam as something firmly rooted in local tradition. Yet, as food researcher Dr Tanya Abraham points out, its earliest form may have travelled here with the Jewish community that once lived in Kochi. Their dish, known as Oppo, is believed to have gradually evolved into what we know as appam today.
This thought took shape during a conversation on Kochi’s flavours at Manorama Hortus in Subhash Park. The discussion turned quickly from general food memories to the city’s long history of absorbing culinary ideas. Dr Tanya noted that Kochi’s taste traditions grew from what travellers and settlers brought in over centuries. As ships arrived, they carried Syrian, Latin, Portuguese and Anglo-Indian influences into local kitchens. Kochi never copied these cuisines outright. Instead, cooks softened their flavours with coconut milk, blended them with familiar spices and created versions that felt distinctly local. In turn, the Portuguese carried elements of Kerala’s flavours back with them.
Her point about appam fits naturally into this history. Oppo, she said, was a Jewish preparation that likely merged with Kerala’s own fermented rice practices over time. It could even explain why the Sri Lankan variant is called a “hopper,” a name that echoes the sound of “appam.”
Other food historians have written along similar lines. Gil Marks notes that Jewish communities in Mumbai, Kolkata and Kochi prepared early versions of fermented rice–coconut batters, which then travelled across the Indian Ocean during colonial migration. At the same time, K. T. Achaya points out that appam appears in the Tamil Sangam literature, including works such as Perumpāṇāṟṟuppaṭai, suggesting that South India already had its own early rice-based pancakes. Together, these ideas paint appam not as a dish with a single origin, but as one shaped by multiple communities and centuries of exchange.
Writer Bony Thomas, also part of the discussion, described taste as “a literature written by hunger.” It is an apt line for Kochi. Just as Fort Kochi and Mattancherry house sixteen language-speaking communities, their food reflects a long history of cultural overlap, borrowing and quiet adaptation. On Ponjikkara island, even the aromas drifting through the narrow lanes on a Sunday noon carry this blend of influences.
The session was moderated by Antony John, Malayala Manorama’s Coordinating Editor in Malappuram.