Welcome to KeralaM. Enjoy our AppaM, PayasaM & SambharaM

Okay, real talk: the Union Cabinet just gave a big thumbs-up to changing the official name of Kerala to Keralam. This isn’t a prank. This is actual paperwork, signed at a meeting chaired by the Prime Minister; now it needs that constitutional jazz, where the President will send the bill back to the Assembly and Parliament before it becomes fully legal and official. But still, the vibe just shifted.

Enter the real question every Malayali’s immediately asked: Does this new name come with a new food identity too? Because in this state, everything eventually comes back to food.

You don’t just live here. You live to eat, to debate, to meme about food. And now the state name has that soft, satisfying finish — Keralam — ending on a 'hummmm' like the one you make after your first bite of good food.

So for our official Keralam food mood board, we are spotlighting dishes that end in M; not because they’re super common (some are not), but because they fit the vibe of the name change and deserve glow-ups in fancy Instagram captions.

The real MVPs of Keralam’s M-ending food club

Appam

Not just one appam, but the entire extended family.

Palappam arrives with its lacy edges and soft centre, looking like it has done yoga and therapy. Kallappam is slightly tangy with a slight kick from cumin and garlic, the culinary equivalent of a favourite playlist on a rainy day. Neyyappam glows with ghee and festival nostalgia. Unniyappam disappears from steel containers faster than you can say “just one more.” Kinnathappam sits quietly on the table, wobbly and confident, knowing it will outshine most desserts without even trying.

Appam is not common because it ends with M. It is iconic because it deserves to be. The M is just a bonus.

Payasam

Payasam does not need branding support from any government decision. Payasam has always operated at sovereign levels of authority. It shows up at weddings, temple feasts, birthdays and random Sundays when someone feels generous. It does not ask whether you are full. It assumes you will adjust. Milky, sweet, maybe ada, maybe parippu, maybe semiya — all versions serve the same universal purpose: you are loved and so is your dessert stomach.

If Keralam needed a ceremonial dish to mark its name upgrade, payasam would be the obvious choice.

Pappadam

Not the easily cracking fingers, but the crunchy, fried golden discs that hold a sadya together emotionally. It is fragile yet dramatic, capable of breaking hearts and itself in one swift move. You crush it into rice like an artist finishing a painting, and suddenly, the entire meal levels up.

Palaharam

Palaharam is less a single dish and more a cultural philosophy. It covers the entire snack universe that appears at tea time, on the road, or whenever guests materialise at the gate. Banana chips, murukku, achappam, sweet bites wrapped in paper, savoury spirals that live in tins with questionable lids. Palaharam is abundance disguised as hospitality. It is why you can never leave a Malayali house without carrying something wrapped in plastic.

The word palaharam did not originally mean “snack attack.” It comes from the Sanskrit roots phala and aahaara, together forming phalaahaara, which literally translates to “fruit diet.” Historically, it referred to food consumed during fasting periods, when people avoided fully cooked meals and instead ate fruits.

Somewhere along the way, South India looked at that minimalist concept and said, “Cute idea. Let’s expand.” Over time, phalaahaara softened into palaharam, and the meaning expanded dramatically. What once referred to fruit during fasting now includes deep-fried, sugar-dusted, coconut-laced, tea-time indulgences that are the opposite of restraint. The evolution is almost poetic. A word that began with fruit became shorthand for fried generosity.

Sambharam

This chilled buttermilk thing with ginger and curry leaves? It hits like relief, like air conditioning for your tongue after that porotta and spicy beef roast. It’s hydration, mood elevation, and snack-accompaniment all in one glass.

And when the afternoon heat in Kerala decides to test your patience, Sambharam steps in like a calm mediator. One glass later, the world feels manageable again, and the humidity seems slightly less personal.

The big 'M's

So the Union Cabinet has said yes. The paperwork is moving. The maps may soon follow. Kerala is officially stepping into its full-form era as Keralam. One extra “m”. A soft landing instead of a full stop.

When you think about it, Kerala has always had a soft spot for big, bold Ms. Some of its leading media houses begin with the letter, from Malayala Manorama to Mathrubhumi, names that have shaped public conversation for generations. Walk into cinema halls, and the marquee glow often belongs to legends like Mammootty and Mohanlal, stars whose screen presence is practically cultural currency. So when Kerala becomes Keralam, it does not feel like a dramatic plot twist. It feels like brand consistency.

Keralam is not a reinvention. It is the same land of monsoon cravings, toddy shop debates, wedding sadya politics and tea-time loyalty. It just finally sounds the way it tastes.

Soft at the end. Full at the finish.

Mmm.