Bitter Leaves and Blessed Bonds: Kerala Christians Find Community in the Flavours of Lent
For a faith that considers gluttony a sin, Christianity has always had a soft spot for the table. Saints are honoured with feasts, the Psalms invite believers to “taste and see that the Lord is good”, and the holiest act of remembrance involves breaking bread and drinking wine.
This connection between food and faith is not unique to Christianity, but in Kerala, where Malayali Christians thrive, it takes on an especially vivid, literal form. Whether Catholic, Orthodox, Marthomite, or Protestant, one thing unites us: a hearty love for meat, fish, and drink – and a communal kitchen that never runs cold. Until, of course, Lent arrives.
The Season That Tastes of Silence
Lent – the 40-day fast leading up to Easter – transforms the usually joyous Christian culinary calendar into a somber, stripped-down season. It echoes both the Israelites’ 40-year journey through the desert and Jesus’s 40-day fast. But for Malayali Christians today, the desert is on the plate – where rich gravies and meat dishes are replaced with unseasoned appams and bitter broths.
It’s not just about what’s eaten, but how. The last week of Lent, Holy Week, is marked with rituals that are heavy with meaning – and sometimes hard to swallow.
Holy Week: Kozhukkatta and Crosses
It all begins with Kozhukkatta Saturday, when homes fill with the aroma of rice flour dumplings stuffed with sweet coconut and jaggery. But even this comfort food is layered with symbolism – the dumplings represent the stones hurled at Christ during his crucifixion.
Come Maundy Thursday, families gather to prepare the pesaha appam (also called indriappam) – a dense, unleavened bread meant to represent the Last Supper. Paired with sarkara paal (a jaggery-and-coconut milk dip), it’s a rare yearly dish, marked with palm crosses and eaten only after evening prayers.
Every household has its version – some steam the bread in banana leaves, others top it with onions or nuts. But the ritual is the same: bread is broken, prayers are said, and laughter breaks out as someone is jokingly declared “Judas of the Year” for getting the palm cross in their portion.
Good Friday: Fasting and Bitterness
Good Friday strips things down even further. Traditionally, only one meal is eaten – usually a humble plate of kanji (rice gruel), payar (cowpeas), and pappadam. In some regions, bitter gourd is added to underscore the sorrow of the day.
And then comes kaippu neeru – a bitter, almost medicinal mix of neem, bitter gourd leaves, and vinegar. The concoction, symbolic of the vinegar Christ was offered on the cross, is hard to stomach but harder to refuse. As one faithful noted, “If someone’s mad at you, they’ll serve you a little extra.”
Breaking the Fast, Together
Despite the austerity, or perhaps because of it, Easter feels even more celebratory. Some families break their fast as soon as the midnight mass ends, while others wait till sunrise to set the banquet. After 40 days of restraint, the spread is nothing short of a resurrection feast.
But the season’s deeper flavour lies in its togetherness. Fasting and feasting are shared, not suffered alone. Lent becomes a collective act of reflection, memory, and even humour – binding the community through traditions old and ever-evolving.
In today’s world where rituals are often dismissed as outdated, the Lenten practices of Kerala’s Christians persist. Not just for spiritual growth, but because they offer something equally holy: a sense of belonging.
As we swallow the bitter and bland during Lent, we taste something lasting – the comfort of not being alone in our hunger, our faith, or our food.
