Chile Peppers

by Dave Dewitt

  “The Indian fashion,” as mentioned by Athenaeus, has sparked most of the curry controversies because some writers and cooks believe that the “Indian fashion” of curry has been stolen and ruined by the rest of the world, especially by the English. Other writers think that notion is nonsense, and they believe that cookery continues to evolve as the world shrinks. In fact, there are multitudinous definitions and beliefs about curry, and rarely do two writers agree on precisely what curry is.

  “Curry in its twentieth century manifestation—a meat or occasionally vegetable stew flavoured with commercial curry powder—is essentially a British dish,” writes John Ayto, author of The Glutton’s Glossary. He is taking the oversimplified stance that all curries are made with commercial curry powder, which simply is not true, despite a plethora of commercial curry powders and other products.

  M. F. K. Fisher, the famous gastronome, disagrees with the curry-powder-stew concept, believing the preparation of curries to be a high art: “Books about curries,” she writes, “are published continually, with the success of a well-ticking clock. Special restaurants all over the world serve nothing but curries. Spice merchants grow rich on making their regional and private blends of curry powder. In other words, reputations can and do depend upon the authenticity of the recipe first and then of the powder that goes with the sauce, the skill with which the sauce is made, and in many cases the atmosphere in which the whole is served.”

  Some curry lovers carry things too far. “The word curry is magic,” gushes William Kaufman in his book The Art of India’s Cookery. “Its mention conjures up for us the romance and mystery of the far-off land of the Taj Mahal. The best way to create the Indian atmosphere is to perfume your house with curries.”

  His comment may have some truth, but the worship of curry irritates famed Indian chef and author Madhur Jaffrey, who writes in her book An Invitation to Indian Cooking: “To me the word ‘curry’ is as degrading to India’s great cuisine as the term ‘chop suey’ was to China’s. If ‘curry’ is an oversimplified name for an ancient cuisine, then ‘curry powder’ attempts to oversimplify (and destroy) the cuisine itself.”

  Curry powder ingredients. Photo by miansari66. Wikimedia. Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License.

  Jaffrey may call the word “curry” “degrading,” but actually, it is not meant to be insulting. The term “curry” reflects the evolution of language and the need to designate, in English, dishes that were based on various spice mixtures. Indeed, curry has come to mean, in English, different spice mixtures that are used in a similar manner in countries throughout the world. “Curry,” explains Yohanni Johns, author of Dishes from Indonesia, “is a word frequently used by foreigners to describe Indonesian dishes cooked with coconut milk.” Santha Rama Rau, author of the Time-Life book on Indian cooking, says that the “proper sense” of the word “curry” is “a highly seasoned stew with plenty of sauce.” There is even controversy over the etymology of the word “curry.” Most sources attribute it to a British colonial corruption of the Tamil (South Indian) word kari, meaning sauce. Indian food expert Julie Sahni notes that the word kari is also a shortened version of kari pulia, or kari leaves, meaning the leaves of the curry plant, Murraya koenigii, a common ingredient in Indian curry blends.

  But other writers disagree with the kari origin of curry. Dharam Jit Singh, author of Classic Cooking from India, writes that “curry is a word that comes from the Hindustani: turcarri. In the colloquial it is shortened to ‘turri,’ which in Anglo-Saxon usage is called ‘curry.’” William Laas, author of Cuisines of the Eastern World, agrees with this etymology. Other writers believe that the word is derived from karhai, a wok-like metal implement made of silvered brass in which curried dishes are cooked, or khari (sometimes khadi), a soup made with buttermilk and chickpea flour.

  Julie Sahni claims that curry is derived from curryup, an ancient Tamil word for “blackened” or “crisp-fried.” She also notes that curry is Tamil for uncooked vegetables. She concludes: “Curry powder was thus originally the seasoning blend used for flavoring fried vegetables.”

  Perhaps the most unusual theory of the origin of the word “curry” comes from Selat Elbis Sopmi of London’s Punjab restaurant, who writes in The Curry Club Magazine that some centuries ago an Irish sea captain married into a wealthy family. The captain’s gambling led to the demise of the family, which kept a large stable of racehorses. They were forced to sell the best of the horses and eat the rest. The Irishman used the word cuirreach, Irish for racetrack, and told everyone he had been reduced to eating cuirreach gosht, or racetrack meat. “Over the ages, this has become, through usage,” claims Sopmi, “the word as we know it, curry.”

  The Oxford English Dictionary prefers the Tamil kari as the word of origin and defines “curry” as “a preparation of meat, fish, fruit, or vegetables, cooked with a quantity of bruised spices and turmeric, and used as a relish or flavouring, especially for dishes composed of or served with rice.” A secondary definition says that curry powder may be used in the cooking process.

  Interestingly enough, the English were already predisposed to accept the word “curry,” regardless of its precise Indian ancestry. First, there was the influence all over Europe of Marco Polo, who, in the late thirteen century, reported on the Asian origin of “ginger, galingal, spikenard, and many other kinds of spices” that were just starting to be used in the English kitchen.

  Second, the word cury, with an Old French word keuerie as its root, first appeared in English as kewery, meaning cookery and also the “concoction” of substances in alchemy. As early as 1390, a manuscript of the first English cookbook appeared, entitled Forme of Cury (Art of Cookery), and it was supposedly written by the master cook of King Richard II. Forme of Cury was not actually printed as a book until 1780, about 30 years after Robert Clive of the East India Company captured the fort of Arcot, west of Madras, and began the British Empire in India. Thus the first printed English cookbook was contemporaneous with the early rise of the British Raj—but that is not the only curry coincidence.

  In Forme of Cury, hot spices were considered to be, according to culinary historian L. Patrick Coyle, an “essential luxury” because of the medieval belief in their digestive qualities and their ability to mask the tastes and odors of food spoilage. “Pepper was the most highly prized,” writes Coyle, “followed by ginger and a related root called galingal, then cubeb, a berry whose taste suggests allspice and peppercorn, and clove, cinnamon, cardamom, cumin, and coriander.” Given the fact that all of these spices appear in curries, it was inevitable that the English would warmly embrace Indian curries.

  As for the word “curry,” it soon had its own variants throughout the British Empire, including currie, carrye, curree, kerry, and kerrie. It was transferred to other languages, appearing as poudre de cari in French and indisches Currypulver in German, but remaining simply as curry in Italian and Spanish. The word has even crept into slang, as in the American and British phrase “currying favor” (which originally meant “to please with cookery”) and the Australian “to give curry” (which means to abuse or rebuke someone).

  Julie Sahni takes a liberal view of the most basic ingredients required to make a curry: “For a spice blend to be called a curry powder, the mixture must contain three core spices: coriander, turmeric, and pepper.” Others will disagree, asking “Where’s the cumin?”—or any other of their favorite spices. The point here is that many spice blends not originally defined as curry powders, such as those from North Africa and the Middle East, can fit into the broad category of curries.

  Commercial curry powder. Photograph by Backyard Productions. Bigstock Photo.

  The Portuguese forever changed curries by introducing chile peppers, which became the principal hot spice in curries from then on. Christopher Columbus brought chile peppers and their seeds back from the New World in 1493, and they were grown mostly by monks in monasteries. Portuguese explorers carried the chiles to their ports in Africa and Goa,
India shortly thereafter. Although the exact date of their introduction into India is not known, most experts believe that it was in the early 1500s.

  Curry Myths

  During the research for this book, four main curry myths were evident:

  curry myth number 1 Curry is a spice. This fiction continues to spread despite numerous books on spices and Indian cooking. Curry leaf is a single herb used in some curries, but in reality there are dozens and dozens of herbs, spices, fruits, rhizomes, bulbs, pulses, nuts, and other ingredients that are combined to make curries.

  curry myth number 2 All curries are the same. Nothing could be further from the truth. “Contrary to popular belief,” notes Sri Lankan food importer Anura Saparamadu, “there are about as many types of curries as there are spices.” And given the total number of curry ingredients, the combinations and permutations of those ingredients provide a nearly infinite variety of flavors in curries. “Even the best Indian cooks will argue endlessly over the inclusion and exclusion of particular spices and herbs,” adds Santha Rama Rau.

  curry myth number 3 Authentic curries cannot be made outside their countries of origin. Purists often say that to enjoy genuine curries, one must travel to all the regions where curry dishes are popular. Can authentic curries be made in America? The answer is a resounding yes. Virtually every exotic curry ingredient (and every one in this book) is available in the United States in Asian markets or by mail order. Besides, across the Indian subcontinent, as well as in other curry countries, cooks boldly experiment, and it is possible to get five or six variations for the same recipe. In all cases, even with a few substitutions, the recipes will be authentic—meaning, as in the dictionary, reliable and genuine.

  curry myth number 4 No self-respecting Indian cook would ever use commercial curry powder. Virtually every writer on the subject of curry or Indian food falls for this falsehood, or some variation on the theme, as if to say that all commercial curry products are bogus. Expatriate Indians in other parts of the world, such as the United States and Canada, commonly use commercial powders, pastes, oils, and sauces. And in India, as Tom Stobart, author of The Cook’s Encyclopedia, observes, “books commonly say that Indians do not use curry powder. This may have been true in the days when even the servants had servants and the masala of fresh ginger, garlic, onion, coconut, green chile, and spices was ground on the stone freshly for each dish. But today [1980], a First World cost of servants has caught up with Third World households, and ready-ground spice mixtures are no longer beyond the pale.” This is not to say that Indian cooks now use commercial preparations to the exclusion of homemade curries, but rather that they now have the option because of the vast number of commercial products on the market.

  Garcia de Orta, a Portuguese chronicler, writes in 1593: “This Capsicum or Indian pepper is diligently cultivated in castles by gardeners and also by women in their kitchens and house gardens.” Chiles became an integral part of Indian cooking and religious lore. They are believed to ward off the “evil eye,” and in many houses and offices, chiles are hung for just such a purpose. In the home, chiles are burned in the kitchen to intimidate the evil eye and protect children.

  Most curry cooks recommend using only freshly ground spices; however, there are many convenient commercial curry preparations. Masalas are spice blends that usually lack turmeric. Curry powders contain turmeric (the yellower the powder, the more turmeric it contains) and a large percentage of coriander. Imported powders are generally superior to domestic ones. Curry pastes are sealed, moist blends of herbs, spices, and other ingredients such as coconut, onions, fresh chiles, and ginger. They are imported from India, Thailand, Indonesia, and Sri Lanka. Curry sauces are available either in bottles or in mixes, and are used as marinades or to make an “instant” curry gravy for meats. Curry oils are vegetable oils steeped in curry spices, and they are generally used as a condiment to add a curry flavor to prepared foods.

  RELIGION AND SUPERSTITION IN CURRY COOKING

  It is a Hindu belief that food was created for humans by the gods. Because of this conviction, cookery on the Indian subcontinent over the centuries became not only an art but a sacred ceremony. Certain prayers were said before preparation began and ritual methods were observed during the cooking. For example, Indians ate two meals a day and believed that each meal should consist of precisely 32 mouthfuls. Under the doctrine of karma, with its successive states of existence, and in an adherence to the caste systems, various foods were considered either clean or unclean. For example, one could not eat food prepared by a murderer or one might become one in the next life. Likewise, to eat food prepared by someone of a lower caste would cause the diner to be reduced to that caste.

  Religion and superstition pervade Indian cookery even today, and many early customs, rituals, and food prohibitions are still observed. Hindus, who compose 80 percent of the population, will not eat beef because the cow is sacred to them; Muslims eat beef and lamb but abhor pork; and Buddhists and Jainists will not take any animal life and so will not even crack an egg. Considering such attitudes, it is no wonder that highly spiced vegetarian cooking is so popular all over India.

  In the fifth century AD, all of the references to food found in the Vedas and Upanishads, the holy books of the Hindus, were collected by the Brahmin Khema Sharmin. He determined that the three classical elements of food were nutrition, flavor, and aesthetic appeal. The belief that food should consist of these three qualities has persisted throughout the centuries as cooking became an honored and skilled art.

  It was this world of cookery that chile peppers invaded, latecomers to the development of Indian cuisines. Yet despite the complicated customs and rituals of cookery in India, chiles eventually dominated the cuisines and even became the principal spice of the region.

  THE 400-YEAR-LONG INVASION

  When the Portuguese arrived in India, the west coast of the subcontinent, known as the Malabar Coast, was one of the most important trading centers of the Old World. Huge camel caravans and shipping fleets were drawn to the Malabar Coast by an abundance of spices that were eagerly sought after in Europe. Vasco da Gama was the first European to visit the Malabar Coast, landing in Calicut in 1498. He brought back to Portugal an offer from the ruler of Calicut to trade spices and gems for gold, silver, and scarlet cloth.

  The Portuguese arrive in Goa, India. Image from A Century of Discovery: Biographical Sketches of the Portuguese and Spanish Navigators from Prince Henry to Pizarro (1877). Wikimedia. Public domain.

  Such temptations were more than the Portuguese could resist. They were eager to wrest the spice trade from Arab sailors, while at the same time outmaneuvering the Spaniards to the lucrative business; so they did what most powerful European countries did to less powerful nations: they took what they wanted.

  Under the leadership of Afonso de Albuquerque, the Portuguese conquered the city of Goa on the Malabar Coast in 1510 and gained control of the spice trade. Goa was rich in spices—cloves, cinnamon, cardamom, ginger, and black pepper—which were shipped to Lisbon in return for silver and copper. These spices were essential to Indian kari cooking. Kari is a Tamil, or South Indian, word for sauce—or, more correctly, the combination of spices that are added to meat, fish, or vegetables to produce a stew. It was the word kari that was Anglicized to become the famous “curry.” Before chiles, Indian cooks used white pepper and mustard seeds to “heat up” their kari mixtures.

  It is suspected that shortly after the fall of Goa to the Portuguese, chile peppers were introduced there by way of trade routes with Lisbon. Because of their familiarity with all kinds of pungent spices, the Indians of the Malabar Coast were undoubtedly quite taken with the fiery pods, and they planted seeds that had been imported from monks’ gardens on the Iberian Peninsula.

  By 1542, three varieties of chiles were recognized in India, according to Dutch botanist Carolus Clusius, and by the middle of the century chiles were extensively cultivated and exported. One variety of Indian chile was called Pernambu
co, after a town in Portuguese Brazil, giving rise to speculation that the chiles had passed from Brazil to Lisbon and then round the Cape to Goa. The difficulty with such a theory is the fact that the principal chile of Brazil was Capsicum chinense, yet that species is rare today in India with the exception of ‘Bhut Jolokia’ in Nagaland, which was transferred from Trinidad in 1854. A more likely scenario is that the chiles introduced into India were of the annuum species and from the West Indies, the first chiles grown in Spain and Portugal. This theory is supported by the fact that Capsicum annuum became the most extensively cultivated chile in India and its main Capsicum of commerce.

  Unlike Africa, where chiles were dispersed primarily by birds, in India they were spread by more deliberate cultivation. The capsicums became known as achar, a term probably derived from the Native American name ají, and as mirch in northern India, and mulagay in the southern regions of the country and in Sri Lanka. Incidentally, achar is also the name of a spicy pickle.

  No matter what they were called, chiles eventually appeared in such a variety of ways in Indian cookery that the diversity and intensity of their use rivals that of Mexico, the Southwestern United States, and some parts of Asia. Four hundred years after chiles first entered India, the degree of their penetration into the various Indian cuisines was vividly illustrated by the cooking experiences of Robert H. Christie.

  Christie, a British Army officer, collected recipes from India and used them to prepare elaborate banquets for his fellow members of the Edinburgh Cap and Gown Club in Scotland. In 1911, he published his landmark book on Indian cookery, Twenty-Two Authentic Banquets from India, which contains recipes for dishes from all parts of India and from neighboring regions that are today separate countries. An examination of the ingredients of these recipes reveals that fully two thirds of the nondessert and nonbread recipes contain some form of hot chiles!