In honor of Krishna's Birthday - Nei Appam

Yes, I’m talking about the lovable, lotus-eyed little Krishna, or Kutti Krishna — the Hindu god-child, prankster, divine hero, and so much more — whose birthday was celebrated yesterday and today around the world.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I’ve never really been one to prepare elaborate dishes for festivals. Growing up, festivals were synonymous with good food, new clothes, and most importantly, a day off from school. Whether as a child, teenager, or college student, I always associated festivals with food, but not with cooking it. I was firmly on the receiving end. Amma would prepare the most incredible dishes, organize the puja, and ensure everything was just right, while I hovered around like a guest in my own home, helping here and there. She handled the perfection, and I happily enjoyed the results.

Was something wrong with that picture? Probably everything.

Over the past year, I’ve become more conscious about being a little more “independent” when it comes to festivals and festival cooking. Part of this is about reliving what Amma would traditionally make, and part of it is about giving Nikhil the chance to experience and taste dishes that don’t usually make an appearance on regular days.

There’s also a deeper, more meaningful reason I’ve begun to reflect on: the why behind celebrating festivals like Krishna Janmashtami, Ganesh Chaturthi, or Varalakshmi Vratham — or any religious festival, for that matter. I won’t dive into each one here, but I truly believe they all share the same ultimate purpose. Festivals serve as reminders to awaken and celebrate the divinity within each of us.

Perhaps we all need these dedicated days each year to pause, look inward, and recognize the Krishna, the Ganesha, the Buddha, Jesus, Allah, or whichever higher power resonates with us — within ourselves. Ideally, the goal is to make every day feel like a festival. And maybe, after years of celebrating these occasions, honoring our own divinity will become second nature.

This line of thought naturally raises questions about festival food as well. Why do we prepare certain dishes only on specific occasions? Why not make them on other days? What is the deeper story behind festival foods and prasadams (offerings)? I’m still exploring these questions, but in the meantime, I’m more than happy to enjoy these dishes whenever they’re made.

Below is the recipe for Nei Appam, a traditional dish made with ghee (nei), rice flour, and jaggery. It’s commonly prepared for Janmashtami — Krishna’s birthday, celebrated on the eighth day (ashtami) of the dark fortnight — along with Aval Payasam, a milk-based dessert made with flattened rice flakes.

I’ve used a simpler method here. Amma usually prepares this using raw rice instead of rice flour. Either approach works well, but I really liked how these turned out — crisp on the outside and wonderfully soft on the inside. I think of these as an Indian version of Danish ebleskivers, since the cooking method is similar. I used an ebleskiver pan, which is also known in India as a paniaram pan.

Ingredients

1 cup brown rice flour (see image below). Alternatively, soak brown rice in water for 30 minutes and grind it into a smooth paste.

1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup whole wheat flour
3/4 cup jaggery powder (see image below). You can grate jaggery if powder isn’t available, but I find the powdered version very convenient for quick dissolving.

1 ripe banana, mashed
1/2 tsp cardamom powder
1/4 cup water

Method

1. Combine all the flours in a mixing bowl and add the cardamom powder.

2. Mash the banana and add it to the flour mixture.

3. Bring the water to a boil in a kettle or saucepan. Measure about 1/4 cup of hot water and add the jaggery powder, stirring until it dissolves completely.

4. Add the jaggery water to the flour and banana mixture. Mix well until the batter is smooth, lump-free, thick, and pourable.

5. Set the batter aside for about an hour to allow slight fermentation. You can leave it for up to 1–2 hours if needed.

6. Add about 1 teaspoon of ghee to each paniaram or ebleskiver mould and heat the pan over low flame.

7. Once the ghee is fully heated and begins to froth slightly, pour about 1 tablespoon of batter into each mould. Let it cook for 3–4 minutes, until the appams begin to rise.

8. Using a skewer or knitting needle, gently turn the appams over to cook the other side. Don’t be alarmed by the frothing ghee — it looks more dramatic than it is, and you don’t actually need much ghee for frying.