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Kalai: The Ancient Art of Tinning Copper
Kalai or the tinning of copper and brass pots was once a part of everyday life in India. Tin has the extremely useful property of binding with copper, and it is also a good conductor of heat, making it perfect for coating cooking pots. Without the protective layer of tin, the surface would soon be covered in a greenish deposit of Verdigris (copper carbonate), especially when acidic foods are prepared. Verdigris can taint food and even lead to poisoning. With many Indian cuisines using sour ingredients like tamarind, lime, tomatoes, vinegar and yoghurt, tinning is essential to prevent toxic copper compounds leaching into the food. The use of kalai was widespread – all kinds of cooking pots like kadai, patila, handi and lagan as well as decorative platters, water pitchers, drinking tumblers and paan boxes were coated with a thin gleaming layer of pure tin on the inside. Getting the pots re-tinned every few months was an important part of the family calendar.
One of the most familiar sounds of my childhood in Delhi was the call of the itinerant Kalaiwallah as he roamed the streets in our neighborhood. As soon as he appeared on his bicycle, weighed down by loaded saddlebags, a small crowd would start to form around him waiting to have their brass and copper pots tinned. He would unpack his makeshift workshop and light a small pile of charcoal on the pavement which he fanned with neat little bellows that he also carried around. He would set out two large bowls and ask a bystander to fetch some water to fill them. One was used to clean the pot thoroughly with caustic soda and water to remove any traces of grease before the tinning process began. The other was for the final washing. There would be a flutter of excitement among the children as the Kalaiwallah held the pot over the fire with tongs, carefully heating all sides until it was almost glowing. Next, he would take out a shiny coil of pure virgin tin and rub an end on the hot inside of the pot. The tin would melt immediately, starting to flow with a mercury-like appearance. He would then throw in a handful of ammonium chloride or salammoniac and use a cotton rag to quickly coat the inside of the pot with a very thin patina of tin. His skill was in quick work ensuring that the tiny quantity of tin covered the many cracks and blemishes on the surface. To finish off, he would turn the pot upside down, give it a hard tap to remove any ashes and plunge it in the second bowl of cold water where a loud satisfying crackle would signal that the tin had been sealed in. A puff of acrid smoke would envelop the scene as all of this was happening, making everyone cough a little but we carried on looking regardless because the process was always so mesmerizing, almost like magic.
It has been many years since I last saw a Kalaiwallah on the streets. With the dwindling popularity of copper pots, the role of the Kalaiwallah has diminished. There are only a handful of Kalai shops in old city centres across the country that cater to professional cooks and older residents who take their copper deghs and patilas for tinning. Despite the advent of all kinds of modern cooking vessels and gadgets, chefs from higher end restaurants and wedding chefs still prefer these for preparing biryanis, salans, and kormas. Noted Indian historian Dr. Rana Safvi reminisced fondly about the tinned copper pots handed down in her family and recalled the deep and complex taste of the food cooked in them. Referring to old school cooks in well known restaurants she says admiringly ‘they do not use pressure cookers because they still prefer to cook in traditional copper and brass pots’.