KOCHI: This was no rigma-roll! Decades ago, native bakers took the European Swiss roll and lathered it with some local soul. Out went expensive creams and imported fruit preserves. In came tangy, homemade pineapple jam. The sponge remained light and airy, but the flavours turned unmistakably tropical. What began as a practical adjustment soon became a signature.
That freewheeling adaptation did not fade with time. It thrived. From glass jars on wooden shelves in old bakeries, the jam roll spun its way into Instagram feeds and nostalgia lists. In central Kerala — especially the plantation belt — it became more than a snack. It became a memory, wrapped in grease paper and childhood afternoons.
Joy Kallivayalil, a retired engineer and keen chronicler of local history, traces its roots to a specific social setting. “Most native bakers learned the craft from Europeans,” he says. “They flourished in areas with Christian planters, who were used to bread and baked products.” With colonial tastes came steady demand, and opportunity.
One bakehouse that rode this wave was SAC Bakers in Kanjirappally, founded by Kunju Ashan. The location was no accident. Rubber plantations were expanding, and planters accustomed to English food habits were settling in the region. “The growth of Kunju’s bakery had much to do with the growth of rubber plantations,” Joy notes. Among its products, the jam roll emerged the star.
It was also a tale of reverse migration. “My father was from Thrissur,” says K K Jayan, Kunju’s son. “He started his first bakery in Mundakayam and later moved to Kanjirappally in 1931.”
‘Jam rolls are now common across Kerala bakeries’
In the early days, plum cakes and jam rolls dominated sales. Soon, the jam roll took centre stage. Kunju was no novice.
He learned the trade from British Bakers in Ceylon (colonial name of Sri Lanka) and worked briefly in erstwhile Madras. But Kerala demanded a rethink.
“Here, he worked on a new recipe using pineapple,” Jayan says. Availability mattered. Pineapple grew abundantly in the region, and a local variety suited the filling perfectly.
Kunju used local fruit, employed villagers and baked in wood-fired ovens lined with coconut shells. The method was traditional; the result distinctive.
“A bite of that roll — the soft, moist sponge folded over golden pineapple jam with tiny chunks — would light up the palate,” he recalls.
Jayan points out that the jam used in the rolls is different from table spreads. “The texture and viscosity are not meant for layering,” he says.
Even the pineapple varieties differ. The success of the pineapple jam roll later led to experiments with strawberry and other locally available fillings.
Today, Kunju’s Jam Rolls has outlets in Kochi with prized gifting items, often carried abroad and presented to dignitaries. The decision to perfect one product proved decisive.
Vijesh Viswanath, CEO of Bakery B, places the jam roll in a wider context.
“Its predecessor is the Swiss roll,” he says.
“In Europe, it’s fluffy sponge with cream and fruits.”
Kerala bakers altered the formula. Pineapple jam replaced cream. Sweetness increased. Shelf life improved. Cost mattered, too. Fresh cream cakes were difficult to preserve 40 or 50 years ago, he added.
“Jam rolls are now common in Kerala bakeries,” Vijesh points out. “Almost everyone makes them, with slight variations.” Yet a few names endure. Kunju’s did, because he focused on one product — and perfected it.