We arrived at Philipkutty’s Farm in a small rowboat, luggage and all, crossing from the mainland to the island. The ride took only a few minutes. Waiting on the other side were the mother and daughter who run the farm, beaming as we pulled in, as if we were family coming home.
Arriving at Philipkutty’s Farm
They greeted us and told us that the person I’d been emailing was away. Then they invited us into the main house. I assumed we’d hand over our passports to register. No. Instead, they welcomed us with a tall cold drink and asked about us, our families and my roots in India, and we worked out that they know someone who knows someone Fafa knows (small world and all that). Then they told us about themselves, their family, and how the farm came to be. I felt like I was back in my own family home, chatting life away.
Eventually, and reluctantly, we moved on to check-in. Our room was called Ponman, Malayalam for kingfisher. It had a shared living room and another room on the other side, but we had it all to ourselves because we were the only guests on the estate (an unexpected luxury we got to repeat at Ishq Colombo, but that’s a story for another day).
Then they showed us around the farm and introduced us to everyone as their guests. I can’t remember the last time I felt so welcome.
After that, they left us to settle in, inviting us to lunch after midday.
Kerala Cuisine Cooking Class
After chilling for a bit, I headed back to the main house and asked to join the cooking session (cooking classes, along with food tours, are now my thing whenever I visit a new country)
The class was set up inside the house, right in front of the kitchen, with meticulous attention to detail. It was run by Amma. By this point, I’d started calling her Amma and just hoped she was okay with it.
First up, dal. Then Kerala fish curry, one of our faves back in Melbourne. I’ve made it a few times and still think there’s a lot to improve. Here I learned to swirl the pot instead of poking at the fish with a spatula, and to leave the lid on after the heat is off. As someone who always overdoes it in the kitchen, this felt like a big fat sign from the universe to tone it down where I can.
We talked more about my background, being Indian Indonesian, how my Amma’s cooking has always been fusion at its best, and how I’ve recently started finding joy in cooking myself.
By then we were well into the Kerala chicken stew, which, unlike the fish curry, I’d never heard of or tried. It’s light, with vegetables and made with coconut milk. Last was Thoran: simple, colourful and delicious. Shout-out to my Singaporean colleague who brought purple cabbage thoran to the office Diwali party and basically introduced me to it.
Somewhere in between, I was handed a fresh coconut. I held onto it to share with Fafa, only to be told this one was mine. His had already been sent to the room. The small luxury…
After the class, I went back to the cottage and told Fafa everything I’d just written, word for word. Then I told him I wanted to come back next year. Because, well, have you ever felt at home in a foreign place minutes after arriving? A place completely different from home, yet with so many of the things that make a home? That’s exactly how Philipkutty’s Farm felt.
Outdoor lunch with the family
An hour or so later, we strolled back to the main area and played on the swing while lunch was being laid out. They served it on a huge lazy Susan in the beautiful outdoor dining gazebo. (I have a big love for lazy Susans. My parents have one, and I grew up sharing countless family meals on it. If you have one at home, we’re practically family.)
The menu was extensive: everything we’d cooked earlier and more. Amma and her daughter joined us, and we picked up the conversation where we’d left off. They shared stories about guests who became regulars and came back every year. At the same time, I was already planning our next trip and inviting them to our place in Melbourne.
While serving, Amma kept telling Fafa, “She made this, she made that”, referring to me. Generous words, considering all I really did was stir a pot, take some videos and drink a fresh coconut. I am loved.
Dessert was elayappam, made of rice flour dough stuffed with coconut and jaggery, wrapped in banana leaf and steamed. The slightly browned banana leaf makes the whole thing smell incredible.
Stuffed, not even two cups of South Indian filter coffee could help us; we were ready for a siesta.
Ngl, I came here dreaming of a long afternoon of writing, reading and reflecting. Instead, I flopped back in the room for a couple of hours. And that’s okay, because maybe that’s exactly what I needed at Philipkutty’s Farm: to heal.
Exploring Philipkutty’s Farm
When we finally got up, with nothing on the agenda except the cruise later, we explored the farm out the back. The estate is massive. We saw all kinds of birds, including kingfishers, and all kinds of trees, mostly tall palms reaching for the sky. White shells carpeted the ground, with fallen baby coconuts scattered on top. One of those shells came back with me to Melbourne and now lives in my shell jar.
This walk is one of my favourite memories of the stay. Just us, walking and enjoying each other’s company. It reminded me of our walk around the grounds of the estate hotel in Arnhem when cousin Ruben got married.
Kumbalangi Night’s Sunset Cruise
Philipkutty’s farm’s sunset cruise is the reason we stayed here in the first place. And to explain this better, we need to rewind to Covid time. That’s when I was introduced to Kumbalangi Nights, my first Malayalam movie. I was enthralled by Soubin, the brotherhood, the songs, everything, including the backwaters.
One scene is imprinted on my mind: a boat gliding through a canal at dawn, a woman in a headscarf holding a baby and a man rowing. It was straight out of the Six of Swords, one of my favourite cards in the deck. So I felt called to do the same while I was here, because what is life if not a series of side quests?
At 6 pm we boarded the same boat from the morning, with a box of warm banana fritters, two coconuts and cleaver (I suppose instead of six swords).
We passed a church with a red cross, where I could hear singing (I later found out it came from St Mary’s Church). We saw the fishing fields and the bridge we’d crossed by car to get here. Then suddenly we stopped among the water plants. It was magical. I know I say this often, but I feel it often: I can’t believe this is my life. The gratitude was overwhelming.
It was absolutely peaceful, apart from my occasional requests for Fafa to take my picture. What can I say, I was on my Kumbalangi Nights quest! I can’t remember much of what we talked about, except that we agreed I can never tell Appa I was in a small boat on open water without a life jacket. I did send pictures to my Amma, though.
The boat turned, the coconuts emptied, the sky darkened, the mood mellowed, and eventually we were back on shore.
Fusion Dinner by the Water
Back in the room, I took a long shower and changed into my PJs. I often daydream about slow mornings, but this whole day was a perfectly boxed experience of slow living. Nowhere to go, nothing to do, except that long shower before dinner.
Dinner was set by the water. Another lovely surprise. It started at 8 pm, and I quickly learned that people eat late on this side of the world.
First came tomato soup drizzled with coconut milk. Earlier that day they’d asked whether I loved prawns. Yes, I said. And there it was: freshly caught, freshly made, freshly fried prawn tempura. Then came cutlet and salad. None of these dishes was Indian, which I welcomed as a break, knowing I’d probably be eating Indian for the rest of the trip.
The rest was more South Indian: fish molee, chapati, chicken roast, appam and okra. Everything was so good, and so abundant, that halfway through we were full full. Dessert was Amma’s famous coconut custard, and yes, I’ve said it before, but let me say it again: I felt so loved.
Goodnight, Philipkutty’s Farm
I fell asleep thinking about how good life has been, and how heart-filling our days in India had been.
At dawn, I woke to prayers and songs from the same church, like a distant lullaby. When I’d had enough sleep, I got up and wrote a letter to my future self (something I learned from TikTok, of all places). Once it was done and I had nothing else to do in the room, I went outside to explore some more.
Morning Moments
After another loop of the farm, I ended up in the reading corner next to the outdoor dining area.
The book collection is pretty eclectic, but my delight? Finding Wild in the wild. I was halfway through a random chapter when Fafa walked in with Amma. Breakfast time!
Breakfast started with freshly made karumuru dosa, sambar and coconut chutney.
Over breakfast, Amma shared more beautiful stories about the church and the surrounding community. It was a special day: everyone was making kozhukatta as an offering to Mother Mary ahead of her birthday, which falls on the same date as mine.
Then came fresh fruit, grilled banana and delicious homemade South Indian filter coffee. Yum…
Fishing
We had an open checkout and could stay as late as we liked, so with plenty of time between breakfast and leaving, I wanted to try my hand at fishing.
It took me back to childhood fishing trips at Ancol with Appa, catching puffer fish and releasing them back into the sea. Let’s call the puffer fish beginner’s luck, because however fond I am of fishing, fishing has never been fond of me. I haven’t caught a single fish since, not even in Harvest Moon, where I wrote down the cheat codes Xan shared with me and still couldn’t catch anything.
But Philipkutty’s Farm seemed to be healing parts of me in all sorts of places, so I thought, why not this one too?
I was busy trying to convince Fafa to bait the hook for me (I was being a baby who refused to touch worms) when Thomas arrived with a bowl of Atta mavu and a fishing rod. Apparently Amma had overheard us and asked the team to swap the usual worms for wheat flour dough. He gave me some basic instructions, suggested I try the pier, and left a few minutes later with a very unconvinced look on his face.
An hour later, after trying different spots, rolling different sizes of atta mavu and letting Fafa have a go too, I accepted defeat and returned the rod. Thomas seemed relieved I hadn’t dropped it in the water.
Goodbye Philipkutty’s Farm
Farm life was a feeling I wanted to savour for as long as I could, but we had to wrap up because Fafa’s parents were waiting on the other side with more food.
When we said our goodbyes, I hugged Amma, worried it might be a bit much. Instead, she embraced the hug and told us that even though it had only been one night, it felt like a family visit. Oh my, same!
Our stay ended the way it began: in a small boat, waved off by Amma—this time with a coconut, one last send-off gift from her and the farm.
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