For the past year or so, I’ve balked at eating a samosa as much as possible. For me, it’s a test of my determination and determination, because that’s how I really like samosas, and once I start eating one, it’s never enough.
I am talking about the Punjabi samosa, the thick fat filled with potato and peas, with a lovingly balanced blend of spices including Amchur, Saunf and Garam Masala. It’s hard to resist. Even in a city like Mumbai, you can find samosas baking early in the morning outside most train stations, intersections, busy residential areas and office areas. The smell greets you as you walk or drive past it.
In recordings, be it a movie or TVs, the standard 4pm ‘nashta’ will always include Punjabi Samosas, that is when there is no prayer that will help you resist. The samosa is baked hot, crispy golden brown and you’ve had a long hard day and you’re hungry. The most determined will stick their head in a bowl of kale salad and beans, but the shameless like me will definitely pick one up.
Unfortunately, like most good things in life, the samosa is quite fattening, about 400 calories per samosa. While I’d love to make a full meal out of three samosas, I’m not sure it’s good for someone trying to shed a few pounds.
But interestingly, the origin of the ‘samosa’ is not subcontinental and definitely not Indian.
If you were to anatomy a samosa, what is it anyway? It is pastry or bread filled with sweet or savory and deep fried. It is a food common in many cultures. That puts the samosa right in the families of the Portuguese Pastel, the Spanish Empanadas, the Italian Calzone or a Southeast Asian Curry Puff.
Historians trace the name and triangular shape to the pyramids in Central Asia called ‘samsa’ and to the meat-filled Uzbek version ‘Pompoqcha Somsa’ (Samsa with yeast dough). The word is derived from ‘Sanbosag’ in Persian and is referred to as ‘Sanbusak’, ‘Sanbusaq’ or even ‘Sanbusaj’ in the Middle East of North Africa.
Nowadays the Punjabi samosa is also available in smaller sizes. Call them cocktail samosas or whatever you want, they feel a little less guilty when you pop a few in your mouth. They can be filled with the same mix of Punjabi samosa potato and pea slices or even mushy green peas as in a Gujarati Ghughra. I had some the other day, which has a slightly sweet and spicy mix of paneer, spices and green chillies. Not bad.
The other kind of samosa are the ‘Patti Samosa’. Here the outer layer or the Patti is crispier, thinner, kind of like a spring roll pastry. This samosa is sold everywhere, both on the street and in stalls and in restaurants during the month of Ramadan. It is filled with bright, minty, spicy and smoky flesh and fried to crispy golden perfection, and is a delicacy that now only appears with the “Eid ka Chand”. It is rare to find a Mutton Keema Samosa in Mumbai on a regular basis. Although, as they say, “dhoond ne se, khuda bhi mil jaata hai”. So between Iranian restaurants and a few Muslim restaurants like Kayani Café in Dhobi Talao, and Jafferbhai and Persian Darbar, Mutton Samosa is mostly available. However, there is a shop along the wall of one of the oldest almost 150 years old Parsi Fire Temple in Cama Baug. Near Old Khetwadi Road, this shop sells pure vegetarian ‘Patti Samosa’. If you ask me what the filling is, I have no idea. I’ve been trying to decipher the taste all these years and all I could think of is that it’s a mixture of shredded vegetables with lots of onion in some kind of seasoning. It is served with a spicy raw papaya chutney, with shredded coconut, which is more like a salad. Even my hardcore carnivorous friends swear by these samosas.
But with the growing popularity of Bohri food, or the cuisine of the Dawoodi Bohra community, the smoked Keema Samosa has made a glorious comeback. Reinforced in part by those who launched the successful ‘Bohri Kitchen’ brand, they even romanticized their Smoked Keema Samosa by creating a ceremony or method by which it was to be eaten and savored.
You can have the Mutton Samosa with a ceremony, or just by itself from a man with a newspaper-lined basket, selling them hot on Mohammed Ali Road. You can eat a deep-fried Punjabi samosa, with sweet and spicy chutney and chole, or crushed as chaat or sandwich bread as they do on the streets of Mumbai. Or at Guru Kripa in Sion, who still makes over 40,000 samosas a day.
Kunal Vijayakar is a food writer from Mumbai. He tweets @kunalvijayakar and can be followed on Instagram @kunalvijayakar. His YouTube channel is called Khaane Mein Kya Hai. The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not represent the views of this publication.
Read all the Latest Lifestyle News here
