On eating Indian food

why i l-o-v-e LOVE the experience + food

Hello!
I hope you are having a nice long weekend and enjoying it as much as you possibly can. I’ve had a long week working on something super exciting (I haven’t been awfully excited in my work life for quite a bit), but it’s safe to say that I feel alive.

I was actually writing another piece on cooking for my mum aka pantry staples cooking earlier today, but then I just went out for a meal at Samy’s. One of the meals I had that made me think so much about the experience of just eating (the meal) and wanting to write about my feelings and thoughts extensively was Karu’s fish head curry, which I made the trek down to Cashew for last year.

I have just realised that I remember much of my childhood by associating memories with meals and places I used to frequent with my parents. Airport pick-ups with Swensens, finished with a glorious sundae. Me at five or six years old, seated on stacked plastic chairs eating kway chap and maybe grabbing tau huey after. Birthdays and occasions at Al Forno with tiramisu or at Crystal Jade, replete with a birthday cake from Emicakes/Angie’s for whoever we were celebrating. (Although maybe don’t go to Crystal Jade these days? Swensens only for their crunchy cones - even then they have committed serious crimes against old fashioned vanilla by “reducing sugar”. Sacrilegious.) Adolescence was a lot of plain naan (somehow garlic naan didn’t appeal to me), palak paneer and butter chicken / chicken 65, followed by a siesta in the car. I probably could eat, like, 3-4 pieces of naan then. Nowadays I struggle with two. I want to say I remember eating it every fortnight, but that is A LOT of butter chicken and palak paneer. God bless my parents for giving in to my whims and fancies.

This is all to say: I have loved eating (Indian food) for a long time. Every time the thought of going to Samy’s or Gandhi’s gets planted in my head by a genius aka myself, true excitement courses through my veins.

Let’s talk about the experience.

the start of something beautiful

I really do enjoy very much getting fussed over for this occasion. It hardly happens at all. After ordering the dishes you want to have with your rice, someone comes by and sets down a banana leaf at the table and asks if you want cutlery. Then, another comes by and asks what rice you want: plain white or biryani. I always choose biryani. Shortly after, you get ladled the vegetable of the day - sometimes potatoes, sometimes squash, both cooked down to a point of meltiness. (“Melting” is my new favourite word to describe vegetables.) And always braised cabbage, usually with turmeric, curry leaves and mustard seeds. You must excuse my lack of knowledge of the names of these dishes. I apologise for not familiarising myself with them, since I claim to love Indian food this much. And then, a delightfully crispy basket of papadum is dropped in front of you.

Then another waiter comes by and asks “fish or chicken?” 97% of the time for me, it’s fish curry. Just because it’s a little brighter and more tangy, more moreish.

a plate fit for a king (although I don’t know why royalty would need so much food in front of them. such unnecessary pomp)

At this point, you would think this is good enough for a whole meal. I could really fill myself up on these. And I really do sometimes, which leaves much room for regret. Biryani rice usually doesn’t fill me up much; I can eat a lot of it and not get full, only to realise, 20 minutes after I’m done eating, that my stomach has a brick in it.

(I want you to know that I always build up an appetite in anticipation of Indian food. My eyes definitely have a larger appetite than my stomach, which really doesn’t help with ordering. There have been too many “I told you so”s at the end of meals.)

HOW such a simple, blistered disc of chickpea flour and salt can taste so good is beyond me.

After greedily inhaling some of the rice drenched in curry and a couple of papadums dipped and being in heaven for some 60 seconds, you get dragged back to reality while another server brings the four dishes you picked for the two of you. You’re knee-deep in regret but also giddy with excitement. It’s a real pickle.

L-R: butter chicken, mysore mutton, spinach, FRIED FISH

MMMM. Ok these are all my favourites. Minus butter chicken; I don’t usually order butter chicken in a south indian meal but the other day I realised I haven’t had it in years. That’s right, years. I’m more south indian food these days.

flaky flesh, a proper spice crust

Let me just ramble on about the fried fish and mysore mutton. I think Samy’s has perfected the fried fish and mysore mutton. I like both a lot because they are very heavily seasoned. The fish is crusted in a spice rub that is so savoury, so salty, so bold, and then fried, which only caramelises everything with oil, forming the most delicious crust ever. The skin is THE best part. You know how some places overcook their fish? Not Samy’s. It’s always perfect, it warms the cockles of my heart.

the GOAT!!

And the mysore mutton is just. PERFECT. It’s intense, tangy, savoury, so salty that you only need a morsel to be in utter bliss. But obviously you don’t stop there. It is supposed to be paired with rice but I’m happy just snacking on it. Crazy aromatic, crazy delicious. And SO spicy. The kind of spice that builds up so you always need tissues in hand.

The spinach is simple - garlic, cumin seeds, chili. And every bit delicious.

You take a bite of everything. At this point you’re swimming in regret. “What have I done, I knew we only needed two dishes” “Oh God I’m so full but we’re only 10% in” Game plan? Disregard the rice, push past the fullness threshold and trudge on. But every bite makes you go back for more. After some fish, you gotta have something saucy like curry-soaked rice. Mm, good. Now, some spinach to cut through. Then, oooh, some mutton. Y-U-M. Ok now for a taste of the butter chicken gravy. Ooh what about dipping papadum in butter chicken gravy? Not bad, not bad at all. Done eating? Gotta finish that basket of papadum in front of you.

If you take a long enough time to eat, the men carrying the pots of curries, rice and vegetables come back to you and if they see your plate is empty, they add more rice / curry / vegetables. That, to me, is like the best part?? All these people fussing over whether you have enough to eat :’) Unfortunately, I never really get past one and a half portions of rice.

And after all this delicious food, washing it down with a hot cup of spiced, milky masala chai seals the deal and soothes the spice in your stomach. (As if you needed to push the capacity of your stomach even more.) I only found out some years ago that it is basically a terrible thing to order your chai with your meal - you should only order it after your meal.

I know this is a very messy, fragmented piece of writing, probably distressing to read. My brain is quite fried, please excuse me.

But Samy’s has been around for a grand *drumroll, please* 60 years and for many good reasons. The food is unfussy and down right delicious. I’ve never had a bad meal there.

I will say, though, that Karu’s wins for their fish head curry in terms of price and serving. Gandhi Restaurant’s food is spicier from what I remember, and hella delicious too.

What would I be without Indian food? Probably 13% less happy. I am very thankful that good indian food is so accessible here; I would never recreate these dishes at home. Although, I love Meera Sodha’s cookbooks for her delicious recipes. But the dishes are vastly different. I would love to go to India one day and be 13% happier discovering how much more delicious chai and indian food are over there.

Well, thank ya for reading my ramblin’ and maybe have some indian food and then schedule in a long food coma next weekend maybe? Got a suggestion for an indian place I should check out? Leave it in the comments!

Bisous!
M.