The food served in a regular meal is served in a pan and is called *chatti choru* and people are fooled by it.

Rs:250……

In the land where coconut trees sway and banana leaves still serve as plates, one humble meal is making a comeback—only this time, with a trendy twist and a shocking price tag. Yes, we’re talking about Chatti Choru, the so-called “authentic” Kerala meal now sold at restaurants for Rs. 250 or more.

But here’s the catch: we’re being fooled—and most of us know it.


What is Chatti Choru, Really?

Traditionally, Chatti Choru (literally meaning “pot rice”) was a no-frills, everyday meal in Kerala homes. Rice was cooked in an earthen pot (chatti), served hot with basic curries like sambar, a thoran (stir-fried vegetables), mezhukkupuratti (dry roast), chammanthi (chutney), pickle, and maybe a piece of fried fish or a boiled egg.

It was rustic, simple, and comforting—something your grandmother would feed you on a lazy afternoon.

Now, fast forward to 2025. The same meal, once made with love and firewood, is being served in clay pots at stylish restaurants, with the label “Nadan Special” and a price tag of Rs. 250–300. Is it truly authentic, or is it just smart marketing?


Let’s Break Down the Rs. 250

Here’s a quick cost estimate for what goes into a typical Chatti Choru:

Matta rice: ₹5

Sambar: ₹10

Thoran: ₹10

Mezhukkupuratti: ₹15

Chammanthi and Pickle: ₹5

Boiled Egg or Fish Fry: ₹20–₹40


Even if we round everything up generously, the total cost to make this at home is less than ₹100. Yet, restaurants charge Rs. 250 and up. Why? Because the pot looks cute? Because of the word “traditional”? Or is it because customers love the idea of eating “village-style” food in the comfort of air-conditioned cafes?


The Great Marketing Move

Restaurants have tapped into one powerful idea: nostalgia sells. When people see a clay pot and banana leaf, their hearts melt. It reminds them of village kitchens, their ammachi’s recipes, or Sunday meals in ancestral homes. The taste might be average, but the packaging? Perfect.

Throw in a few curry leaves, place everything inside a clay pot, and boom—Instagram-worthy! Food vloggers rave about it, reels go viral, and suddenly, everyone is ordering Chatti Choru at overpriced restaurants.

But is this really the food we grew up with? Or just a filtered version made for the camera?


Are We Buying Food or Buying Memories?

Let’s face it. We’re not just buying a meal—we’re buying the feeling of tradition. And restaurants know how to sell that feeling well.

Clay pot = authentic.

Coconut oil smell = nadan.

Boiled egg = premium touch.


In reality, many of these dishes are prepared in bulk earlier in the day, microwaved before serving, and arranged carefully to look “rustic.” The clay pot is often just for show—it doesn’t even come hot from the stove!

You’re not being served your grandmother’s recipe. You’re being served an edited version that fits into today’s fast-paced restaurant model.


Why Do We Still Buy It?

Despite knowing all this, people continue to order Chatti Choru. Why?

1. Convenience – Cooking three or four items at home is hard. Ordering takes one tap.


2. Nostalgia – Even a fake village-style meal feels comforting.


3. Social Media – Let’s admit it—Chatti Choru looks great in photos.


4. Cultural Trend – It’s now “cool” to eat traditional food.



We know we’re being slightly cheated—but we also enjoy playing along. It’s like watching a movie based on real events: we know it’s dramatized, but it still makes us feel something.



The Homemade Challenge

Want real Chatti Choru? Make it at home. Here’s how:

Cook red matta rice the traditional way.

Make a simple sambar, cabbage thoran, and fish fry.

Add a chammanthi and a pickle.

Serve it in a regular steel plate.


Total cost? Under ₹100. Effort? Worth it. Authenticity? 100%.


The Final Word

There’s nothing wrong with enjoying Chatti Choru at a restaurant. But it’s important to know what you’re paying for. A clay pot and a nostalgic name do not automatically mean you’re getting an authentic experience. You’re getting a branded version of a memory.

So next time someone charges you Rs. 250 for a plate of rice and curry, ask yourself: Am I paying for food, or am I paying for a feeling?

If it’s the latter, enjoy it guilt-free—but maybe try the homemade version once in a while. You might find that the real taste of Chatti Choru was never in the pot. It was in the kitchen that cooked it with love.