Mulligatawny

Origin: Mulligatawny began not in British dining rooms but in the kitchens of southern India, among the Tamil people. The name itself comes from the Tamil words milagu (pepper) and tanni (water) — literally, “pepper water.” It was a thin, fiery broth — more medicine than meal — meant to stoke digestion, cleanse the body, and wake the spirit.

When the British East India Company arrived in South India, they fell in love with its heat and depth but demanded a soup that fit their European expectations — something richer, thicker, “dinner-worthy.” So cooks adapted: they added chicken or mutton, thickened it with lentils or rice, and mellowed its fire with cream or coconut milk.

Across centuries and continents, it’s remained a shapeshifter — Indian at its root, Anglo-Indian by adaptation, and global in its reach. At its heart, though, Mulligatawny still speaks Tamil: pepper and water, survival and soul.

Ingredients

Originally derived from milagu thanni (“pepper water” in Tamil), Mulligatawny was never meant to be creamy or sweet. It was meant to heal, to warm, to stoke agni.

What the British did was invent a colonial caricature. This version restores the original intent—spicy, brothy, sharp, and rooted in Dravidian heat.

2 tbsp ghee or coconut oil

1 tsp mustard seeds

1 tsp cumin seeds

½ tsp fenugreek seeds

8–10 curry leaves

1 small onion, finely chopped

1 green chili, slit

4 garlic cloves, minced

1-inch ginger, grated

½ tsp turmeric

1 tsp black pepper (freshly ground)

1 tsp tamarind paste

1 tomato, chopped

4 cups water or light vegetable broth

Salt to taste

Cilantro, for garnish

Lime wedge, to finish

Optional Add-ins (if you must):

Cooked red lentils for body

Rice, if serving as a fuller meal

Chicken, if reclaiming the colonial version with a wink

How The Alchemy Happens

Heat ghee in a pot. Add mustard seeds, cumin, and fenugreek—let them pop and dance in the oil.

Add curry leaves, onion, and green chili. Sauté until soft and fragrant.

Stir in garlic, ginger, turmeric, and black pepper. Let the aroma rise like old memory.

Add the chopped tomato and cook until it breaks down into a soft, spiced base.

Stir in tamarind paste and pour in the water or broth. Simmer gently for 10–15 minutes to let the flavors meld.

For the lentil version: Add cooked red lentils and simmer another 5–10 minutes, until the soup thickens slightly and turns golden and comforting.

For the reclaimed colonial version: Add shredded or cubed cooked chicken along with the broth. Simmer until the flavors weave together—rich but still bright.

Strain for a clear broth or leave it rustic and full-bodied, as you prefer.

Taste and adjust salt. Garnish with fresh cilantro and finish with a squeeze of lime.