We don’t need another “Indian” restaurant
In India, the cuisine changes every 100 km. So why do almost every Indian restaurant in Aotearoa serve the same thing?
I love Indian restaurants. In India.
When I lived there, I would go every month with my mother-in-law to enjoy a Gujarati thali, where you are served up to six delicious vegetable preparations, always in season. During Ramadan, I made my annual pilgrimage to Mumbai’s Bohri Mohalla, where street vendors sell spicy lamb seekh kebab skewers on charcoal grills. Living near Matunga, the mecca of South Indian cuisine, I often started my day with a roast podi ghee dosa. And whenever anyone in the family had a craving for fish, we would head to our local Maharashtrian lunch spot to enjoy fish gassi and tisrya (clam) masala.
But here in New Zealand? I almost never eat Indian food outside of my home.
Because no matter how many different Indian restaurants I go to, I feel like I’m eating at the same one.
The menu never changes and everything tastes almost the same.
We were in Taupo recently and on the fourth day my kids were craving dahl and rice. We had a choice of two joints, but in reality there was no choice to make. The menus could have been photocopied – more than 20 similar dishes, including butter chicken (of course), mango chicken, chicken Madras and lamb saagwala.
You could say the same thing happens at a Korean restaurant, a Mexican taqueria, or a pizzeria. And no restaurant serving an average of 40 dishes can hope to showcase the food an entire country consumes.
But with other cuisines, I would hope that if we combined the menus from all the Korean restaurants or Italian corners in Aotearoa, we would have a reasonable representation of the country’s cuisine.
Not with Indian food. As chef Srimoyee Chakraborty of London’s Calcutta Street restaurant once said: “I can add up all the menus of Indian restaurants in England, and they cover about 2% of what India actually offers.” »
It’s partly India’s fault
The country is vast. There are over 2,000 ethnic groups, each with their own cuisine. Visit India and you will find that the cuisine changes every 100 km.
Rajasthan is primarily an arid state, which means its food includes wheat and millet instead of rice. Meanwhile, on coastal Goa, fish and curry dominate the cuisine, most dishes contain coconut and there is a strong Portuguese influence. Throughout the country, in northeast Meghalaya, food is heavily influenced by its hunting and gathering traditions; Doh-neiiong (smoked pork with bamboo shoots) is a popular dish. And the East Coast Bengalis I love their meat and potatoes so much. There is even a song about their kosha mangsho.
There are also community differences. Like the Parsis who like to eat at least two kinds of meat in a single meal, or Pathare Prabhu whose cuisine is influenced by the Gujarati vegetarian community, but whose signature dish is a shrimp pie!
In reality, India is a country made up of countries. The cultural equivalent of Europe. It is impossible to bring together all this diversity in a single “Indian” restaurant.
Internationally, the definition of Indian cuisine is expanding
People who know me know that I don’t like radioactive orange kiwi butter chicken at all.
But based in the UK food writer Mallika Basu said murgh makhani (butter chicken) will probably always remain the entry point to the Indian culinary journey. “Even in India, Northwest Frontier cuisine has always been a staple for special occasions. Rich and comforting, dishes like dahl makhani, sikandari raan (slow roasted lamb leg) and biryani are popular in restaurants because they taste good and people are familiar with them.
But beyond the popularity of curry house, Londoners are moving away from stereotypical ideas about Indian cuisine and embracing all its diversity. The city now has Chourangi, specializing in Calcutta cuisine; Trishna, who gives a taste of coastal cuisine; and Gunpowder, where there is no naan on the menu.
Closer to home in Australia, the regional Indian food scene is also starting to emerge, whether it’s Dhakshin in Sydney which prepares dishes from regions like Tanjore, Udupi and Mangalore, or Melbourne’s Toddy Shop, where the Homemade Keralan cuisine is on display.
Migration patterns are a big part of why the UK is much more aware of Indian food than New Zealand, says Chand Sahrawat, manager of Cassia, Kol, Sid at the French Cafe and Cassia. People travel with their culinary traditions and Indians have been migrating to the UK for over two centuries. In contrast, Indian migration to New Zealand has mainly occurred over the past 50 years, making the industry here even more nascent.
Regional Indian is also available in Aotearoa – but we have to search for it
I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t regional Indian cuisine in Aotearoa. “At Cassia, we deliberately decided not to offer butter chicken on the menu,” says Sahrawat. “Will we find a Maharashtrian misal steak in an Indian restaurant? Probably not. But we have incorporated some regional cuisines like Malabar and Chettinad.
There is also Mumbai prawn koliwada and Parsi sali boti at Mumbaiwala in Ponsonby. The Kerala Mutton Pepper Fries at Newmarket VT Station also taste fabulous. And no one does justice to Mumbai station staples vada pav and bread pakora like the Mumbai Vada Pav Food Truck.
But where can you find Lucknowi haleem, Bengali macher jhol, Bihari litti chokha and the decadent Bohri thaal? I’m thinking particularly of people living outside the Indian hubs of Auckland and Christchurch, where finding even decent chaat dishes like dahi puri and pani puri is like finding gold.
“The demand for regional Indian food in the UK has increased after decades of experimentation by restaurants and sustained pressure from food writers in the media as well as cookbook authors,” says Mallika in dissuading me from eating butter anymore. -chicken soap box. “The trend I have noticed is that diners first experience Indian cuisine at a curry restaurant, then demand refined, more authentic versions of these dishes and finally, they are willing to experience the regional nuances of the India. It’s a journey.
We all have a role to play when it comes to making a difference
My husband comes back from every farmer’s market lamenting why we don’t have butter chicken batter in our product line at Dolly Mumma. We would make a lot more money.
I compromised and introduced tandoori dough, but I still dream of a pop-up restaurant where I could serve a bowl of my shrimps curry followed by some patra ni machchi – fish coated in minty green chutney and steamed in banana leaves. Constantly feeding everyone the food I love is the only way I know to change the dial.
That’s what Sammy Akuthota did when he opened Auckland’s popular Satya Chai Lounge after practically growing up in his parents’ restaurant, Satya. “I didn’t want another restaurant serving curries. I wanted to serve the food you’d find at your local beer garden because that’s where I like to hang out.
“We have come a long way. When my parents started Satya in 1999, Kiwis came up with the concept of sharing wild food. Fast forward to today where you will find Kiwis from all communities relaxing on our crates sharing plates of snacks and cocktails like you would at a dhaba in India. We’re definitely ready to move past the curry, rice and naan narrative, but it can’t just be a simple family operation where the taste changes if Dad is a little upset today. Our guests want to take a trip not only with the food, but also with the ambiance, hospitality and overall experience.
Would you like to try eating Gujarati khichdi or Parsi dhansak in New Zealand soon?
You can help shake things up by ordering something you’re unfamiliar with or ditching the salt and vinegar chips for try Indian snacks instead. If you’re in Auckland, drive up Sandringham Road and visit one of the smaller restaurants full of Indians – Eggs & More is great for a chat – or join me for a Indian culinary walk.
Who knows, maybe one day my dream will come true. A traditional restaurant that features traditional Indian dishes on its menu And we keep changing them! A different taste of India, every visit.
