It has been centuries and yet when I think of my ancestors, their travels and experiences fill me with positively glowing envy. My roots go back to the dawn of civilization on the Iranian plateau. No one in my family knows for sure, but they tell me that my ancestors we called Sanbosag, and the first ever mention of our literature came through the Persian historian Abolfazi Behyaqi in the 11th century. Travelling through the mountains of Central Asia, my ancestors came to the fertile plains and great rivers of India. They didn’t take this journey alone, some came with the Aryans, some travelled later with the Mughals and Mamluks to make the wonderful subcontinent of India, as you know it today. Royal beginnings is the only phrase that comes to mind;from the Moroccan traveller Ibn Batuta to the sufi poet Amir Khusro the praise of my ancestors has been sung with revered admiration.
We, are the Sambusak Family or as you know me today, The Samosa Family.
I am the trilateral, tetrahedral fried pastry. A bite of me is tongue seduction in its purest form celebrating the delicate mix of hot and spicy with the sweet tamarind tanginess I am your Samosa. I came from lands far away, travelled the deserts, climbed the Hindu Kush, fought with the armies and found my abode in India.
India has seen cultural influences from The Great Alexander to the British. Every invasion brought with it a new life style, new languages and a whole new cooking style. While my ancestors were made from minced meat, today my best friend is the humble potato. Did you know that India had no knowledge of this starchy tuber which brought about the cooking revolution in Indian cuisine until the Portuguese landed on the coast of Goa in 16th century. They called it The Batata or as we know it today The Potato.
I, the Samosa, have seen a thing or two and am here today to tell you today to stop stressing and Live like a Samosa. There are only 4 rules.
- Be yourself. Don’t let anyone change you. Look at me, I crossed geographical boundaries; they tried hard, but I stayed true to my triangular awkwardness. The western world with all its craziness of healthy eating has tried transforming me, you can put a potato in anything, but you are not a Samosa until you are fried and triangular. Yes, stay true to yourself. They can bake you, they can stuff you with grassy vegetables, but don’t lose hope, the true you will take the crown every time. Try it next time, make me original and make me fake. Let the palette decide which is better.
- Travel the world. It’s the experiences that make you who you are, nothing else. My life has been about travels, my exotic past did not stop me but only enriched me to understand the humility in India, and adopt to the street vendors and the palaces alike. Today, I am synonymous to India, I am sold in every street and every corner. I am a poor mans delicacy to a rich nawabs’ indulgence. The chef’s can mask me with minced meat and nuts and yet I stay true to my character. The glories of the palace do not enchant me, the condemnation of the streets do not scare me, for I have travelled on feet and on elephants. Travel, so you can live life.
- Coexist with humility. India is food haven. The cultural invasions brought food influences from the Mughlai to the European and then the partition brought the Punjabi’s and their food habits. The Southern India has stayed true to its native roots and yet the southern delicacies of Sambhar and Chutney are a gift of Western India. I maybe the king of chaats and appetizers in India, but I am always in awe of the delicate crispiness of the Pani Puri, the tangy godliness of the Dahi Bhalla and let’s not forget the robust bold flavors of the Kachori. We all coexist with tolerance and humility. You too can coexist.There is no need to compete with your friends and the world. There is enough room for all of us to be stars of our own shows.
- Be Adaptive. Yes, adapt to the times. Don’t be stuck in the past. If I, the descendant of the majestic Sanbusak family had not adapted to the humble streets of India, my family history would have ended. Instead I chose to keep my character, my structure intact and accepted the stuffing they gave me, end result, I am new and I am more popular than ever before. When need arises, I metamorph into a crude peasant dish, and when the occasion demands I arrive in style on porcelain. I am the syncretic global dish – I am fusion of all cultures, and I thrive.
Today, I am tailored to individual taste buds and maybe I am imagining it but I might just be the worlds first fast food. Not sure though, I do need to understand my history more, but the truth still remains, I am modified to suit the individual tastes.
In Punjab, I am stuffed with Paneer, and in Delhi they serve me with chocolate and another calls it the Japani Samosa, beats me why, there is nothing Japanese about it, but it’s popular and the recipe is a secret. Some chefs try to steam me, but quite honestly, I dislike that very much. When you steam me, I become a dumpling, not a Samosa, so please in the name of tangy tamarind sweetness, please don’t steam me. While the North stays true to my roots and indulges me with potatoes, Southern India stays true to its own roots and nourishes me with cabbage, curry leaves and more. Hyderabad calls me Lukhmi and makes me remember my royal past again. The Eastern state of Bengal calls me the Shingara, Goa on the other hand, mimicing the Portugal Chamcuas, satiate me with pork, chicken or beef. The Arabs continue to carry my heritage forward and members of the Sambusak family continue to stay there. The Turkish on the other hand have morphed us to the Somsa Family, and In Africa they still call us the Sambusa Family.
I am the Samosa. Live like me.
Be humble, be proud, be genuine, be you, travel around and don’t be afraid of adapting to your new home because white, brown or yellow at the core we are all the same, we may feel different, but we are just adapting to our individual lives and experiences.