The word curry is a topic sure to rankle desis; the debunking of this colonial category is the rare cause that can unite desis of all origins and persuasions in a chorus of righteous indignation. And rightly so: The reduction of the subcontinentÂ’s rich foodways to this one invented label has caused any number of ills, not least the viscous glop known as tikka masala, and more than a few upset stomachs.
But just because curry isnÂ’t authentically Indian doesnÂ’t mean it isnÂ’t authentically… something. TodayÂ’s New York Times has a review of a new book called “Curry: A Tale of Cooks and Conquerors,” by Lizzie Collingham — a book I’m excited to read, despite the kind of horrible cover art that has Manish breaking out in hives. It invites us to follow as curry spread around the world, picking up bits and pieces from each culture like some syncretistic religion. Curry may or may not be Indian, but it sure is global:
Samoans make a Polynesian curry using canned fish and corned beef. … Lots of diners would balk at curried chicken Kiev, but not Ms. Collingham. … One of her goals, in tracing the evolution of curry and the global spread of Indian cuisine, is to pull the rug out from under the idea that India, or any other nation, ever had a cuisine that was not constantly in the process of assimilation and revision.
Books about a single food are a bit of a trend these days; at their best, like Cod, they offer a compelling alternate take on a major slice of world history; others, like The Potato, seem limited by their subject matter. This one seems especially rich, because the “food” whose story it tells is one itself born of cultural encounter, miscegenation and conflict.
The British, in this story, become less the corrupters of a culture than the unwitting enablers of a global cultural exchange that exceeds their own ability to imagine, let alone cook. They are left with tikka masala and curry chips, while the more interesting hybrids pop up elsewhere. For instance:
the “Mexican-Hindu” cuisine that appeared in California in the early 20th century when Punjabi laborers integrated jalapeño peppers and tortillas into their native dishes.
If anyone knows where that cuisine is served, give me a shout. IÂ’m free for dinner.
I think it’s called Taco Bhel Puri
Mexi-Desi sounds like the next big trend, following the wave of Indo-Chinese joints popping up all over.
if any mutineer wants to put up the capital, a few of us around here are awesome cooks (brimful!) we can be the first ones in on a new trend.
Can’t I just volunteer to be chief taster? No no, chief eater, that’s a cooler title.
Nice one Dasichist – v funny!
:What could be more Indian than chilies? Yet before the Portuguese arrived at the beginning of the 15th century, :Indians had never seen or tasted a chili, a New World spice that Columbus called “pepper of the Indies.” The :heat in Indian dishes came from a red pepper known as long pepper or from the black pepper familiar in the West.
somehow i can’t believe this…What did they use for the various pickles? can’t imagine they made mango pickle without the chilli powder.
:Today, the Rasul family in Yuba City runs the only Mexican restaurant in California that features chicken curry and roti
Here’s one place where you might get Taco Bhel puris…
I don’t know about Chicanodesi cuisine, but you can try Desitalian any day. Also, my mom makes a killer spicy pizza.
If you’re in the mood for Mexican-Indian and in California – go to Avatar’s in Sausalito. The Punjabi Enchiladas are perfect!
Oi!! move aside! Don’t make me wave a deep fried mars bar at you 😉
MG – can you imagine desi food without tomatoes or potatoes? As a punjabi, I have a hard time imagining life without corn as well. So the answer to your question is that some of these pickles may only have shown up in the past 500 years or so. That’s still a long time.
I don’t mean to nitpick but Indo-chinese isn’t a ‘trend’. It’s what indians have known as Chinese food forever until they come to Western countries or go to China itself and get the rudest shock of their lives. The folks behind “indo-chinese” here (i.e. the two behind Chinese-mirch) realized how many FOB’s like us out there crave chilli-chicken, manchurian and hakka noodles as our version of the bland, grease nightmare that is chinese take-out and crude mex-desi is to be found all over the mid-east and in sub-continental metros.
DesiDancer, though it’s kind of you to say, Mexi-Desi is way out of my league, babe. The best I could do is try to concoct some mexi-desi dessert!
Sonia, now that I know the name of the place (is it really in Sausalito? I was told it was in Larkspur), I am going to try a Punjabi burrito. 🙂
Brimful – their original sit-down restaurant (Avatar’s) is in Sausalito and there’s a smaller place called Avatar’s Punjabi Burrito in Mill Valley. I’ve only tried Avatar’s – I went to college with the owner’s son – good food!
Ah, my old nemesis. We should have a show-down. I’ll bring my fork when I come to America.
Ext. Old West. Wind blows, tumbleweed tumbles. Bong Breaker wears a poncho, Cica wears a tube top on her head. 20 paces apart, they to face each other. Bong Breaker hocks a loogie to one side. Cica spits paan.
Close up: Bong Breaker’s eyes Close up: Cica’s eyes Close up: Bong Breaker’s fork Close up: Cica’s chopsticks
Bong Breaker: Draw! . . . Cica slumps to the floor. Bong Breaker is victorious once again. Bong Breaker: “Your boho lifestyle has made you soft. Chopsticks? Pah. I ashamed to defeat you.”
Aaaand so forth.
And here I was thinking that Indochinese cuisine referred to the culinary experience associated with Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia, and Burma.
An Indo-Chinese review.
when did potatoes and corn come to india? how did they come to india? – would ennis not have been a lesser punjabi had a zig been a zag – core dump – is this what they call existentialist angst… where is ang by the way…
boho lifestyle?
oooh, it’s on!
Brooklyn. Backroom of a bodega kitchen. Reggaeton blares through humid, airless summer heat. A naked lightbulb illuminates a windowless room.
Bong Breaker wears sweaty Paul Smith, Cica wears wifebeater. Across a formica topped table, stacked with platters, they glare at each other and reach for the first bowl: seafood.
closeup: Bong Breaker pulls out a tentacle
closeup: Cica spoons out an eyeball
second bowl
closeup: Bong Breaker gnaws a frog leg
third bowl
closeup: Cica crunches dried sprats
Cica: “on to the Fry-O-Lator!!” . . . Bong Breaker retches, as Cica pulls out a stack of golden, doughcovered, deep fried Mars bars. The oily stillness of the room is matched only by the caramel-choco-sucrose sweetness rising in hot waves off the plate.
Bong Breaker vomits.
Cica, victorious once again, exits the room. Pausing only to stabs BB in the ass. With her trusty spork.
Quick note: Fascinating film series to check out for folks interested in the idea of Chinese cuisine changing in different localities. They have 2 pieces on parts of India, one that looks at a Chinese restaurant in Trinidad, and one in Mauritius. Amazing stuff, which I first heard about at the Museum of the Chinese in the Americas.
Biff Tannen: “Haha! Bullet proof ass! Genius!”
BB removes his bullet proof ass cover. As it drops to the floor, the metallic crash reverberates around the dank kitchen and stops Cica in her tracks.
Split screen. Fore: Cica’s left eye, stunned, motionless. Back: Bong Breaker wiping the vomit away, like MJ in Bad.
BB: A spork. How low can you go? You have offended my family and you have offended the Shaolin Takeaway. Skedussu, what do you do?
Cica: Now it’s war.
BB: No…you can’t mean…
Cica: Yes.
BB: Don’t you remember what happened last time?
Cica: Muahaha!
BB: OK, but I’m not doing the operation this time.
Cica: NO CUTLERY!
BB: You always go too high, too soon. Oh Icarix, you fly too close to the Sun.
Aaaaaand so forth.
FYI – I would never wear Paul Smith. And I have a secret weapon you can’t test. Gone off food. I don’t care if it pre-dates my birth, if it used to be edible, I’m sure it still is.
My italicisation keeps messing up. Well, the feeling is still there.
I watch silently in the background as the Tarantino-like fight to the death between Bong and Cicatrix concludes.
Indo-Chinese food owes much of its origins to Chinese exiles living in and around Kolkata, particularly in a suburb called Tangra. The little bylands of Tangra are dotted with small shops that serve prawn soup and hakka chow-mein that are run by the many Chinese immigrants there. A friend of mine had devised a trusty way of deciding which restaurant to eat at in Tangra. He would ask for the menu and look for the spelling of the word Chow-mein. Apparently, the correct spelling meant that the food was worthy. But you would be appalled by the rich variety of spellings available — chou/chau/chaw/chau/chao/chawu/chowu X mein/mien/min/meen/mean/men/mine. It was a combinatorial cornucopia of names!
“chowu mine”
“Fi dollar.”
In this country, we have lots of food to choose from, perhaps the best choice in the world in London – but in terms of ‘fusion’ (of which I can’t say I’m a big fan, though I’ve been pleasantly surprised a few times) we have many of the combos people have mentioned. However, at the less affluent end of the spectrum, a bizarre phenomenon has sprung up in the last few years. Thai gastropubs. They’re often not that gastro, just regular pubs with a Thai restaurant squeezed in. It’s very bizarre, but I must confess it is a fantastic experience to have a cold beer, a Thai banquet and a widescreen TV showing the match. It’s fusion I approve of!
Goood God, man! You’ve gone too far!
Are we talking about….Ho-Hos?!.. not…RingDings??!!!!!
wait, that can’t be. The UK just banned junk food adverts. And schools can’t serve the stuff as of this August. And that stuff doesn’t exactly go off. Edible even after the nuclear holocaust, I’m sure.
Are we talking bout, like, cans of baked beans date-stamped 1976, then?
hmmmmm.
Well played. I dunno if I’d be mindlessly stupid enough to eat that.
FYI re P.Smith: I know, I was making making fun of you.
Thai gastropubs? Now I’m just jellus. NY needs better bar food.
(And I’m sick of hearing about that fookin’ British “gastropub” that opened here, The Spotted Pig. Tarted up overpriced liver pies do not impress me)
I want really spicy finger food munchies for my drinks. Japanese sake places are good for that, but I haven’t found much in a regular bar.
Although the bar across from Dumpling House ($2 for TEN dumplings!!) let mr.c and me bring our food in and enoy a drink while waving our boho chopsticks around. Quite a treat actually.
Dumpling Man ($3.50 for Six) does fusion dumplings…like spinach dumplings with marinara sauce. Not bad, but also sort of…boring.
Bong, interesting comment about Thai gastropubs. Wasn’t there a pakora bar fad a few years ago? My Scottish friend spoke of them, they were replaced by trendier tapas.
The gastropub phenomenon is interesting…all over Oz, old town and suburban pubs are being gentrified, transformed into dining experiences So far the only East Asin has made it onto the menus in a big way. South Asian is always relegated to tandoori chicken burgers and pizzas.
flygirl, I don’t know about pakora bars, but they sound cool! Deffo a lot of tapas places, although they all seem very authentic (the ones I’ve visited, at least) and not people who’ve jumped on a bandwagon.
The Thai pub thing is inexplicable, I see them all over the place now. A big fat hairy fella with tattoos and hepatitis serves you a cold pint and a pint-sized Thai girl comes to take your order in traditional clothes.
I know the Paul Smith was a dig cica, but every man has a breaking point. Now that you’ve said spork, it’s instantly undone all the things that made me a cica fan. About tinned food – that is actually one you SHOULD eat. Tinned food has been opened after 60 years and been fine to eat. Provided the heating and packing were sufficient, they will stay for years. Literally, years and years and years. My proudest moments are creamed coconut from 1987 (don’t worry, it was in the fridge), walnuts from circa mid 80s and dried noodles from..well, the price tag said 12 pence.
I…er…I…I…
fuck
concede.
visibly deflates
ewww. I can’t do it. Expiration dates mean something to me, maaaan!! What about dented cans? What about metals leaching into the food?
What’s the point if it’s supposed to be carrots but now tastes like creamed farts?
I mean, I like my tinned sardines and kippers (with raw onion, mmm)…baked beans….even a can of tinned Kraft cheese now and then. But I’m a slave to the dates of the timestamp. just. caaaaan’t!!
Congratulations, Bongsie, you jsut found my culinary Achilles’ heel.
(Russian accent) “I am inveeeencible!”
interesting….I want to try Punj-Mexican food. No chance of that in the Pacific NW i suppose.
I had a fairly detailed post on the origins of some common food a couple of weeks ago, here…..that traced the migration of many daily food items that are now associated with regions they didn’t come from.
Bong….Pakora bars (google it, no single decent source of info): seems to be a Scottish phenomenon.
Dumpling Man is a demigod. Try the veggie steamed with spicy monster sauce.
Funny, that’s what I made for dinner last night, before this thread started. Punjabi style saag-aloo with Mexican style pinto beans, cheese, etc.
Well, I liked it.
I think Ennis is asking that you try his Punjabi burrito.
It looks like an interesting read with a lot of attentive research gone into it ( barring the shoddy art direction, why stick to the cliched imagery especially when your content is trying to dispel the notion of “authenticity” !) ensuring it doesnt come across as yet another “Good Housekeepin Presents 101 Curries”.
My major beef is not with the word “curry” but with the glop that is served by most places outside of india as food(they can call it whatever “dhal”, “vindaloo”, “tikka masala”…it often looks alike, tastes even worse) and passing it off as “authentic”.
But what is authentic indian food? India is perhaps one of the only countries where each region’s cuisine is poles apart despite using the same palette of ingredients and spices! So it becomes virtually impossible to have just “one” cuisine.
Then again, culture is something that can’t be contained and so you have food from punjab reimagined by the bangladeshi’s being dished to the world. For me this sets up a perfect oppurtunity to for the indian food to evolve, to become truly modern and acknowledge not only it’s heritage but the current culture it resides in. But we all know it didn’t happen this way, instead what we see is that to cater to the cliched idea of “exotic/spiritual” india most indian restaurants in the U.S market are unable to break from the twisted notion of “authentic indian experience” to attract the “ooh i love indian food and culture..so much colour” type clientle (you know, the one eating “MILD vegan dhal” as if it was The Amrit).
But the real irony is that no self respecting provider of authentic food will ever give you the option of mild,medium,hot. Indian food especially where the whole drama is in the balance of spices has been butchered just because someone can’t handle the chilly in vindaloo, yet insists that mild vindaloo is his favorite because of the “kick” it provides! This whole mild,medium,hot business just tends to destroy the dish alotgetherbecause that balance of spices is not there mild has no flavour and the hot just has an additional spoon of raw chilly powerd mixed in, which cant be good for anyone. As for the medium it’s perhaps it’s perhaps like most of us of indian origin who’ve lived outside of india…ostracized from both sides for not being….well authentic 😉
Why am I ranting? well because i really believe that there is a place for modern indian cooking. Even though Mexican-Hindu marriage is the obvious one as south american food is very similar in spirit. its very encouraging because if there is one traditional aspect of Indian cooking that often gets lost on “Taj Mahal’s” of the world is that it has always been very experimental and takes in its sourrounding culture to conjure up somethign new. The word “curry” may have it’s baggage but we musn’t also forget that it also charts the evolution of indian cooking from India to the world…..I guess it’s up to us to see where it goes from now.
P.S It’s lunch time in New Delhi, i think a Nirula’s oh-not-so-authentic-but-damn-it’s-yummy “peeza” should do the trick 😉
aashim: great rant indeed. the whole “mild medium hot” thing unsettles me too. when i’m offered the option of a mild vindaloo or a hot korma, i struggle to keep my calm… until i remember that if i really wanted to get it the way i want, i’d cook it myself. i avoid “indian” restaurants (except for the real immigrant eateries in cities where they exist), but they do come in handy once in a while when you need a fix and you can’t be arsed to cook, or to travel to the sprawl-suburb where the good stuff tends to be. anyway, your comments on the book sound spot on. i’m looking forward to reading it. too bad about the cover. stupid.
peace
tres funny
The question of what is authentic “Indian” food resonates with me. I have a theory that there are only two kinds of good food in India
Food that people cook at home (widely varying from “ilish maach” if they are Bengali to gobi aloo or whatever if they are Punjabi, etc. etc.)
South Indian vegetarian “udupi” food.
Why? Because contrary to the experience in other countries, India has not historically had a tradition of people going out to eat (except Udupi restaurants, the details of whose history are rather hazy to me). People cook food and eat it at home. If they are forced to eat outside the home they go to extraordinary lengths to get food from home to them (cf. Bombay, tiffin). In a place like Thailand it’s the opposite: the food you get in restaurants and especially at little stalls in night markets is phenomenally good because that is what the Thais traditionally eat. You see them all buying their ten baht plastic bags of pad thai or whatever and carrying it home to eat.
I deliberately leave out 3. Mughlai tandoor cooking because there aren’t any Mughal courts around any more and the average Mughlai is coloured with something toxic and cooked in something the Mughals would have buried in the kabarkhana. Also I suspect everyone who knew how to cook Mughlai food left India and went to Karachi in 1947 along with the qawwali singers. What’s left seems to be staffed by a combination of reject truck drivers and Taj/Oberoi management trainees.
However I suppose you could add
My ideal Indian restaurant would be something like a small food court with the following:
Saag with Pinto Beans? Wow. I admire you. I would never try your cooking – but the admiration is still there.
foodie- sorry, I was in a rush and typed without details (like adjectives and stuff). Indo-Chinese is not a trend, culinarily speaking– you’re right. In NYC it seems that lately a few outstanding venues popped up (Chinese Mirch, Indian Oasis in Qns) and now the NYT is inspiring a rash of copy-cats. It’s definitely here to stay, but probably 2/3 of the present Indo-Chinese establishments will switch to DesiMex with one hint from the NYT trend police.
Cica, you put up a good fight and you should be proud. There is dignity in being somewhat discriminating in what you choose to ingest. Bongsy has no scruples. I saw him eating stale dry cat food once and he didn’t bat an eye when it was pointed out that he was noshing on Meow Mix, not Chex Mix.
Eurodesi
I’m really beginning to like you for the sweeping statements you love to make.
You have left out THE best cuisine in India – the highway dhabas. I have not found any good city restaurants (in India or elsewhere) that can make food as tasty, fresh and cheap. And contrary to your statements about truck drivers being ‘rejects’, I think they are the greatest connoisseurs of North Indian (Punjabi/Mughlai) cuisine in India. Try taking a drive down one of the new highways in India and stopping by a dhaba with lots of trucks/buses outside it 🙂
technophobicgeek: The world is complex and so is India (as Pankaj Mishra takes pains to remind us). We can make sense of the complexity only through generalisations. Anyone who pretends otherwise is a bloody liar only.
Also you misunderstand me on the subject of truck drivers. I don’t believe they are rejects, only that those who are rejects from driving trucks (ie. couldn’t make the grade on the Grand Trunk Parkway) seem to end up cooking Mughlai food far too often. As for the real truck drivers who are still driving trucks, best of luck to them.
I hesitate to endorse dhabas myself because although a lot of people (yourself included, obviously) are great fans of them, and I know they are an enormous craze in places like Delhi where restaurants go out of their way to be considered dhabas, I have myself always found the food I have eaten in dhabas uninspiring, with the single noble exception of that great Punjabi dish the “kadi” which cannot be eaten with honour in any other type of non-residential establishment. Otherwise the standards of hygiene are horrible (yes, I know the food is eaten hot. What about the onions, the plates and the glasses?) and the food strikes me as deliberately overspiced and overcooked.
The ideal to which the type of restaurant known as the dhaba is aspiring (and will eventually get there, no doubt) is an establishment off the highway midway between Meerut and Muzaffarnagar called the Cheetal Grand. Eat there and be very afraid. As the sign outside says, “WE APPRECIATE YOUR NOT LOITERING AROUND”.
here, here, TPG! The best meals I ever had in India (outside of the home, of course) were dhabas. I might even say the best desi food I’ve ever consumed (w00t Dhaba Y2K in Assam!) Ironically, the hoity-toity chow at Delhi’s rotating restaurant, Parikrama, left me with a very urgent digestive reaction, while all the “forbidden” street chow was blessed ambrosia.
Cheetal Grand was nearly as nasty as Parikrama, in my experience. And it was a long, bumpy remaining ride to Dehradun from there. ick.
Perhaps the problem is the lack of a “good dhaba” directory, which means that out of simple bad luck I have never eaten in one. Even fans of dhabas must admit that there is a preponderance of the bad kind. Some of my family in Delhi have told me of the dhaba which is geographically closest to their home. It is apparently notorious for using used (not new, mind you) engine oil as one of its principal ingredients. Once, they say, out of sheer laziness they picked up food there, suffered hideously, and have sworn not to do it again.
Thanks, DD 😉
I’m rather surprised at the comments on ‘mild’ Indian curries. I met North Indians (in India) who hate spicy food. Most Mahknis and Kormas I’ve had (in India, in homes and restaurants) were ghee-buttery or creamy anyway, not particularly hot.
If y’all want real fire, try Sri Lankan. At lunch and dinner you’ll find people sweating profusely, happily shovelling down more black curry and dried chilies, groaning with pleasure as tears flow freely down their faces. It’s frikkin masochistic. But it hurts so good.
Has anyone tried the P’hall (their spelling) at Brick Lane in NY? It’s a gimmick, fo sho, but I ate it dammit. Back in day when your name got on a blackboard, not the website. I got my free bottle of beer, and then spent the rest of the day tenderly massaging my tummy, in between painful bouts in the bathroom. I don’t recommend it. The restaurant used to be great, but the food was surprisingly bland and they had a Karaoke night last time I went…a sure sign of desperation.
I’ve always had uber-delish spicy balti at Brick Lane, in fact just two nights ago. I’m starting to think we shouldn’t eat together 🙂
Didn’t have the phaal but had the 5-star vindaloo. That hurt.
aawwww, Manish. Your companionship will more than make up for your boring restaurant choices 😉
And I your scintillating conversation for your questionable dish selection 🙂 (The marinara sauce dish is indeed terrible, and you may be skipping the tastiest [vegetarian] dishes elsewhere…)
touche 😉
(I’ve been known to order ham sandwiches at bagel shops and ask for the fish at a diner. Then of course, I get really huffy when Mr.C groans and says, “Cica, are you sureyou want to order that?”)
I went to this sri lankan restaurant “rashnaa” in toronto, because of a review pretty much on the above lines – i dont know if the cook’s mom died or what – but the food had about as much kick as soggy rice paper – … – on a more pleasant note – i was introduced to REAL telugu food a few weeks back – and hot DAMN – made my hair rise on end – for those who dont know what that heat’s about, the traditional food is all about preserving food as powders and essences – and you mix it with rice – which might easily be the only fresh cooked dish on the table.. .and enjoy with ghee… and man… ounce for ounce – that stuff packs heat – some Telugu … please illuminate… I think there REALLY was something called gunpowder on my plate.