Contrary to the habit of the Brits, India does not do curry. No, it doesn’t exist. Kari does though. This is a small aromatic leaf used in Tamil cookery and just one of the numerous ingredients that make up their spicey masala sauce. By extension, kari also denotes a dish of dry masala-clad vegetables. India’s rich source of spices lies on the fertile slopes of the Western Ghats. It’s a lovely area to head for, cooler than the sticky coastline thanks to its altitude and close to wildlife parks such as Periyar. Elephants roam here when not hauling logs or taking a dip in the lake. In gastro terms this is where black pepper, cardamom, cinnamon, turmeric, nutmeg, cumin, ginger and others are grown - and where empires clashed back in the 16th and 17th centuries to gain control of the lucrative trade. It didn’t take long for the Malabar Coast to become a legend. Initially used for their medicinal properties, these spices then became used as appetite stimulators and digestive aids. Chills also enter the pot - unassuming-looking little red peppers which, like spices, help the body to cope with hot external temperatures by firing it up internally. 

When in southern India make sure you feed on thali - a feast of luscious little dishes traditionally served on a banana-leaf though now more often on a stainless steel platter - in a local restaurant you might still get change from £1 but every region differs, and in fact the amount and type of dishes point to rigid standards and social symbols. Eat it with your fingers like the locals, scooping up the food with a chapati or paratha. It’s messy to begin with but once you’ve got the technique, it makes eating a much more sensual experience. As Hinduism runs deep in the south, vegetarian food is the rule (contrary to the north where the Muslim Moghul’s deeper marks include meat and ‘non-veg’ restaurants). With the spiced up vegetables - from cauliflower to aubergines, okhra, spinach or potatoes - comes fluffy white rice flavoured with coconut (they just drop off trees round here), lemon, peanuts or, for an extra-astringent hit, with tamarind. Sweet dishes are there too, often rice and milk-based, as Ayurvedic culinary principles stressed the importance of eating all six rasas (flavours): sweet, salty, bitter, astringent, sour and pungent.

Another southern speciality is the very sculptural masala dosa, a gigantic puffed up rice pancake filled with spiced potato and vegetables. Smashing its crisp coating open is part of the gastro-experience. This is a classic breakfast dish or snack to counter the effects of the tropical heat. Other early morning specials are idli sambhar (steamed rice cake with spicy lentil and vegetable sauce), oopma, a spicy semolina and the similar though sweeter kesari - very syrupy semolina with raisins. No one ever thought pizza was Indian, but uttapam, a rice-flour pancake topped with onions, comes very close. Paruppus (or dals - lentils) are much more liquid in the south - so more chapatis are needed to wipe them up. Meals are followed by excellent coffee - grown in the same Western Ghats - and poured from a height to give it froth. Enjoy it while it’s there, as in certain parts of the north coffee-drinkers just have to give up and switch to tea. Then hit the paan or betel to really go southern.

In the centre and north, the food menu opens up to include the wonders of Central Asia, brought by the Moghul rulers centuries ago. Hyderabad with its long Muslim traditions has a the most refined tradition, combining aromatic ingredients with fine textural variety; this is where biriyani was invented, and dried fruit and nuts stud numerous dishes. Things get meatier the further north you go, with Kashmir probably the most carnivorous of all. A dinner party here can be meat, followed by meat, and meat again - all cooked differently and quite deliicious. But veggies beware - don’t go there. There is a pay-off though - fragrant basmati rice, grown in the foothills of the Himalayas, the rice of emperors, concubines, maharajas…