Let me start with a confession that might earn me a few raised eyebrows at the next Tamil family gathering:
I prefer Bengaluru sambar over Chennai sambar.
Yes, I’m Tamilian by blood. Yes, my mother’s sambar is legendary in our circles, sharp, tamarind-laden, and unapologetically bold. And yet, when it comes to choosing a bowl that soothes rather than stuns, I find myself gravitating, perhaps heretically toward the gentler, rounder sambar of Bengaluru.
And perhaps that shouldn’t be surprising. Because I also grew up in Bengaluru.
Where It All Began: A Royal Culinary Mishap
Interestingly, sambar wasn’t born in a thatched kitchen but in a royal one and not even a South Indian one, strictly speaking.
The story goes back to the Maratha rulers of Thanjavur in the late 1600s. During one such royal visit, Chhatrapati Sambhaji, son of Shivaji, reportedly attempted to make dal when the court cook was unavailable. Used to the Maharashtrian souring agent kokum, he reached instead for tamarind, a southern staple.
The outcome was delicious and history was made. The new dish was named in his honour, and over time “Sambhaji’s dal” became “sambar” an enduring tribute to an accident of substitution.
From that moment on, sambar spread across the southern subcontinent, a dish born of improvisation, perfected by migration, and shaped by region.
Chennai Sambar: Sharp, Fiery, Uncompromising
The Chennai sambar I grew up on is a force of nature. It’s tangy, spicy, and assertive tamarind-forward with a vengeance. A well-made Tamil sambar has a kind of dramatic tension to it, each bite a balancing act between sour, spice, and texture.
Vegetables like drumsticks, pumpkin, radish, and brinjal find their way into it, supported by a dry-roasted masala of coriander, fenugreek, and red chillies. The tadka usually with mustard seeds, curry leaves, and a dash of hing is loud and aromatic, like a curtain-raiser to a bold performance.
It’s the sambar I first knew. The one I ate with idlis, over rice, with pongal, and sometimes just by itself in a cup. And yet...
Bengaluru Sambar: Soft-Edged And Soul-Soothing
There’s a different kind of magic in the sambar I found in Bengaluru and especially in the Udupi-style eateries that line the city’s culinary landscape. From Vidyarthi Bhavan to CTR, MTR to Brahmin’s Café, the sambar in these places is milder, slightly sweet, and deeply comforting.
The Udupi influence is crucial here. Rooted in temple traditions and satvik cooking, Udupi cuisine avoids garlic and onion, instead leaning on roasted coconut, curry leaves, jaggery, and a more balanced spice blend. The sambar is thick, almost velvety, and allows the dal to take center stage while tamarind and jaggery play supporting roles never overpowering.
It Doesn’t Shout. It Sings.
This version of sambar gently envelops a crisp vada or soft idli, clings lovingly to dosa, and makes rice feel like a cuddle. And for someone who spent their formative years in Bengaluru, this softer, almost nurturing interpretation became the taste of growing up even if not the one I was born into.
Sambar, By Upbringing And Adoption
So here I am: Tamil by origin, Bengaluru-raised, and emotionally bilingual when it comes to sambar. One part of me is loyal to the sharp, no-nonsense Chennai style. The other part perhaps shaped by school lunches, temple lunches, and Saturday breakfast at Mavalli Tiffin Room yearns for the softer, richer Udupi-style warmth.
Call it culinary dual citizenship.
Don’t Forget The Kerala Angle
And just to complicate the household politics, let’s throw in one more factor: my wife is Malayali. Yes, the Kerala sambar, coconut-heavy, shallot-sweetened, vegetable heavy, slow-simmered is another category entirely. One that deserves its own essay, preferably after obtaining domestic security clearance.
For now, let’s just say: that spicy story is for another day.
A Final Thought (Before Amma And Wife Read This)
Chennai sambar is like Carnatic music precise, intense, and demanding of attention.
Bengaluru sambar is like a gentle raga played at dusk soulful, layered, and easy on the ears.
And Kerala sambar? Think of it as a moody monsoon melody with coconut undertones.
In the end, all three are valid. All three are beautiful. But when I’m looking for comfort, not complexity, when I want a bowl that doesn’t challenge, but embraces, I’ll take the Udupi/Bengaluru style.
Still love you, Amma.
Still revere and love you, wife
And I promise to finish everything on my plate, whichever state it’s from.
Going further, let’s break down the Taste Profile Comparison Chart of the three regional sambars; Chennai, Bengaluru (Udupi), and Kerala, based on 7 key attributes rated on a scale of 1 to 10:
1. Sourness
Chennai Sambar scores a 9: This is its signature trait, bold, tamarind-forward, sharp.
Bengaluru Sambar is much milder at 5, preferring balance over acidity.
Kerala Sambar sits in the middle at 6, using tamarind but not as aggressively.
2. Sweetness
Bengaluru Sambar leads at 6, thanks to jaggery that softens the edges.
Kerala Sambar adds a hint (3) through slow-cooked shallots and occasional jaggery.
Chennai Sambar keeps it minimal at 1, this one doesn't do sweet.
3. Spiciness
Chennai Sambar is the spiciest at 8, with red chillies and aggressive roasting.
Kerala Sambar is moderate at 5, tempered by coconut and spices.
Bengaluru Sambar is relatively gentle at 4, designed to soothe, not sear.
4. Umami/Depth
Kerala Sambar tops here with a 9, shallots, roasted coconut, and slow simmering build a deep flavor.
Bengaluru Sambar follows with an 8, owing to the Udupi spice blend and jaggery.
Chennai Sambar scores 6, with punchy tamarind and spices but less "roundness."
5. Texture Thickness
Kerala Sambar is thick and rich (8), often more stew than broth.
Bengaluru Sambar is medium-thick (7), creamy dal base.
Chennai Sambar is thinner (4), more broth-like, especially when served with rice.
6. Coconut Notes
Kerala Sambar dominates at 9 as coconut is central to its identity.
Bengaluru Sambar shows moderate presence at 6, thanks to Udupi influence.
Chennai Sambar is nearly absent here (1), this isn’t part of the classic Tamil profile.
7. Aromatic Tadka
Chennai Sambar leads again (9), mustard seeds, curry leaves, hing, and ghee/oil tadka are dramatic and fragrant.
Bengaluru Sambar has a more tempered tadka (6), gentle and balanced.
Kerala Sambar is subtler still (5), often using coconut oil and mustard without overdoing it.
Summary Takeaways:
Chennai Sambar: Bold, spicy, tangy, and assertive, best with rice and pongal.
Bengaluru/Udupi Sambar: Balanced, sweet-savory, and comforting, made to pair beautifully with idli, dosa, and vada.
Kerala Sambar: Rich, deep, coconut-laden, stew-like and often paired with red rice or served during sadya.
Regional Sambar Highlights
Tamil Nadu: Boldly tangy, moderately spicy, aromatic, with a classic blend of toor dal, tamarind, and spices. Some types (like Arachuvitta Sambar) use fresh-ground masala with coconut for extra aroma and richness.
Kerala: Sweetest and richest due to roasted/grated coconut and a wide variety of veggies; less spicy, with a complex, smoky depth.
Karnataka: Characterized by subtle sweetness (from jaggery), moderate tang and spiciness, and a hearty texture. Mysore and Udupi sambars are especially famed for balanced, mild flavours.
Andhra Pradesh: The spiciest variant, tangy and bold, with lots of red chilies and tamarind; usually thinner in consistency.
Maharashtra & Bombay: Simpler, milder flavours (sometimes chickpea flour instead of dal), with moderate tang and spice. Some urban versions incorporate coconut or unique regional touches.
How To Use This Chart
Home Cooks: Reference this visual guide to adapt your sambar to local tastes or experiment with neighboring styles.
Foodies: Use these profiles to appreciate the diversity in Indian sambar, and to recognize what region your favorite bowl of sambar represents.
This chart illustrates that "sambar" is not a single dish, but a living, evolving tradition that reflects the culinary preferences of each Indian