The first thing I’ve always noticed is how she feels to my touch. Even if left out all day, there is some warmth left at her core that rises up through my fingertips. A person’s true beauty is on the inside and despite the fact that I always take time to admire the texture and taste of her outer shell, every crease and fold and hard bit, it is what’s inside that I think about with the greatest anticipation. In there, a secret garden she hides. And the way she smells…mmmm mmm mmmm. It can make you hop right out of bed in the morning. Is there any better way to break-fast? Even in college I could always count on her at the end of the night when nothing else would fill me up, and the partying just wasn’t fun anymore. I’m not the only one that lusts after her though. True beauty is easily recognized and doggedly pursued. The folks at The 92nd Street Y (thanks to the anonymous tipster) not only recognized her, but delved into her past to uncover the things even I didn’t know:
…we thought it might be time to pay tribute to the humble samosa.
The deep-fried, fist-sized triangular pastry is traditionally filled with either spicy potatoes or ground lamb and is India’s great contribution to the world of fast food. Traditional samosas come in all sorts of variations; in the Punjab they’re smaller and more akin to Western potato puffs, while in southern India wrappers are traditionally made from Lentil flour. There’s samosa chaat–where samosas are doused in chickpea curry or yogurts and chutneys to make for a quick, messy meal on the go–and regional variations like Bengali dessert samosas filled with rosewater or Myanmar’s samosas, which substitute wonton wrappers for the thicker shells used in India.
But the samosa is also the product of a thousand years of culinary heritage. Variants of this uniquely Indian food can be found everywhere from Cape Town to Singapore to Tashkent to Tel Aviv. A samosa/samoosa/samsa/sambusek/burek world tour (with recipes) after the jump.
Food historians have established, however, that the samosa originated not in India, but in Persia. The sanbusaj, originally a Persian term for any stuffed, savory pastry or dumpling, started showing up in Persian, Arab and Turkish literature starting in the 9th century, when poet Ishaq ibn Ibrahim-al-Mausili wrote verse praising sanbusaj.
Wow. I am truly humbled to follow in the footsteps of the poet Ibrahim-al-Mausili. I am a blue-collar samosa eater. I don’t need the finest green and brown chutneys. Just give me a little bit of ketchup and you’ll shut me right up. That’s right, I like to go slumming. I also refuse to see any movie at a theater longer than two hours unless there is an intermission with warm samosas in the lobby. I LOVED Lord of the Rings, but it was so long that every time Gollum said “my precious,” I kept thinking about samosas. My mom makes them the best. Cashews and tofu sometimes.
The first mention of the proper samosa was in Amir Khusrao’s 13th century memoir of Delhi’s royal court, when he mentioned “samosa prepared from meat, ghee, onion and so on.” There was also the legendary explorer Ibn Battuta, who in India, wrote about the sambusak: “Minced meat cooked with almonds, pistachios, onions and spices placed inside a thin envelope of wheat and deep-fried in ghee.”Indian immigrants to Africa brought the samosa over there, too. With an extra “o,” the samoosa is a popular snack food throughout South Africa and former British colonies like Kenya and Uganda.
There is no better way to become popular with a new group of friends than by taking a bag of hot samosas with you to a party. Munch-munch, give. In college, my Asian roommates even idealized Indian women by calling them “samosas.” I know. It was so wrong and I am ashamed for actually encouraging them instead of correcting them, but some part of me thought it was a compliment.
There is so much more I can say about my precious samosa but I’m hungry now. I must search for something to fill me. My female friends all think I am picky when it comes to finding love. I just tell them that I have high standards.
0, my luve is like a deep brown samosa, that’s newly fried in ghee. 0, my love is like a glass of lassi, that’s sweetly drained by me.
As crisp thou art, my fine pastry, so deep in luve am I, And I will luve thee still, my dear, even if the chutney runs dry.
— with apologies to Robbie Burns
ROTFLMAO…!!!!
dhaavak, that was priceless : thank you for making my day 🙂 :-).
In South Africa locals refer to the samoosa as ‘drie hookie cookie’, which means three cornered biscuit.I have even heard ‘coolie cookie’. They are mostly sold on the beach so people can munch on them while taking a walk on the golden sands.
Abhi if you are ever in Gaithersburg, you should try my mother in law’s samosas. I have tasted samosas from every corner of the world, and her’s is the greatest.
Sounds so delicious I could cry.
There’s no edible South Asian food in my neighborhood. Which is Prospect Heights Brooklyn. In case someone has any recommendations.
I am soooo hungry now! Thank you for the wonderful description and photo.
Kajal, I thank you kindly for your offer. Assuming that you meant Gaithersburg, MD however, I make it a point to stay at the actual home of the world’s best samosa chef. My mom. 🙂
Yummy post, Abhi.
My mom tosses in some golden raisins.
For anyone who wants to make quick samosas at home, use frozen puff pastry for the wrap and bake them rather than deep-fry them. They do taste good, are easy to make when you have last-minute guests, and are healthier than the deep-fried variety.
Has anyone tried the ethiopian sibling of the samosa, the sambusa? Almost the same, the shell is a little crispier. Had an excellent one at Meskerem in Adams-Morgan, DC. Anyone know the history of how the samosa got to Ethiopia?
I see its discussed in the article.
Ah, shades of Theo Huxtable (and Cockroach) – they called girls “burgers.”
Just go to Jackson Heights?
tofu and kaju samose? Oh Abhi, you may have the coolest parents ever!
-another sacreligious ketchup user. especially the Maggi hot and sweet garlic ketchup 😉
mmmm…I miss the kind of samosa’s my mom made back in Kenya with crispy puud (shells) stuffed with peas, carrots, and potatoes. Sometimes she’d make them with paneer and corn. And then we’d make this delicious sauce with ketchup, lemon juice, hot sauce, pepper and salt…mmmm
I don’t enjoy the big, potato stuffed samosa’s that you get here (at most restaurants) as much because the shell isn’t as crispy. I think I’m going to bug her till she makes them old school samosas again 🙂
Mmmm, samosas. So good. I’ll even eat gross ones, which I did quite often in London, where they sell them at the kiosks in the Underground (heated up with a microwave). Perfect for being warmed up on a cold day!
Nina –
I’m the author of the samosa post on the 92nd Street Y’s blog and a Bklyn resident too. Unfortunately pickings are pretty slim in Prospect Heights/Park Slope; I’m not big on the samosas at Joya, Star of India or any of the 7th Ave places.
Secret tip time: On Beverley Road & Coney Island Avenue, right near the Beverley Q stop, there’s a takeaway place catering mostly to taxi drivers… With 50 cent samosas. And the best part? They’re really, really good.
Inspired by this post, I decided to bring samosas to a potluck party tonight. Unfortunately I bought them at the new Whole Foods in Union Square (it was in the same vicinity of said party), where I was alarmed to discover they’re sold by the pound, making them the most expensive samosas ever. And they were only OK. I feel like such a sucker now. Oh, how sad is life without a good cheap samosa!
Neal, thanks for your suggestion, I’ll definitely check out the Beverly Road takeout joint. Looks like a nice bike ride from here.
Nina, I’ve had the same samosas. They’re ok in a pinch, but as you said, they’re not so great. Try the ones at the 28th. / 11th Ave. cabbie dhaba, if you’re ever out that way. They were decent (not worth making a trip for, but yummy), and the rest of the food was pretty good.
When I lived in San Francisco’s Mission District, there was an unpretentious takeout place called Bombay Ice Cream, which had excellent samosas and aloo tikkas for 75 cents each. I wonder if it’s still there. Apparently it spoiled me for life.
It’s still there. I’ve never tried the samosas, but the ice cream is excellent.