A Cultural Hot Pot
Mumbai has always welcomed migrants with open arms. How has this contributed to the cuisine of Maharashtra and Mumbai over thousands of years?
It was a dark and stormy night 2,200 years ago when a ship carrying a group of Jewish refugees wrecked itself on the island of Underi off the west coast of India. Of the entire shipboard complement, only seven men and seven women survived. They made landfall at Navgaon (near Alibaug) where they were given refuge. These 14 people far from home, kith and kin are the ancestors of one of the least known communities of Maharashtra, the Bene Israel. By the time the European powers discovered them, they had almost completely amalgamated into local Konkan society. They spoke Marathi, wore local dress, followed the profession of oil pressers and were part and parcel of the rural Konkan. What they hadn’t forgotten though were their dietary laws, refusal to work on Saturday (the Sabbath), a small prayer called the Shema Israel and their reverence of the prophet Elijah whom they call Eliyahoo Hannavi. Their culinary habits are one of the best-kept secrets of the Konkan and their celebratory food, the Malida, is legendary as are their unique curries and dessert. Following the dietary laws of Kashrut, they do not cook meat and milk products together. To circumvent the milk and meat law, the Bene Israelis make a kadhi with coconut milk specially to be eaten with meat and fish dishes. Their halva made with wheat and milk is yet another unique speciality.
PERSIAN FUSION
1,200 years later on another dark and stormy night a group of refugees from Persia prayed to their god for deliverance and landed safely at the site of Sanjan on
Way before fusion food was the flavour of the year, the Parsis fused British béchamel with Portuguese vinegar, Persian barista (fried onions) and fried garlic and cooked Pomfrets (a decidedly local fish) to create their iconic Sahs ni Machchhi
the present Gujarat-Maharashtra border. They were the forefathers of the Parsis of India and their contribution to India is second to none. To paraphrase the Father of the Nation—“In numbers, Parsis are beneath contempt, but in contribution, beyond compare”.
Faced with new and unfamiliar foods they adapted their Persian diet to suit the West coast. They brought about an incredible synthesis by fusing the Persian and Coastal Gujarati cuisines giving us mouth-watering dishes like Dhansakh (a localised take on Persian Aab Gosht) and Sali Jardalu chicken (chicken cooked with apricots). Their use of dry fruits and fried onions in food is also seen in their pullaos which are covered in a carpet of fried onions speckled with nuts and raisins. Eggs have always been an integral part of Persian cuisine and the Parsis adapted this in vegetable-rich western India by making shakshouka like steamed eggs on a variety of vegetable—tamota per eedu (eggs cooked on tomatoes which are called omlete-gojeh farangi in Iran), bheeda per eedu (eggs cooked on ladies fingers) and kothmir kanda ne leela lasun per eedu (eggs cooked on a bed of spring onions, green garlic and fresh coriander). The Parsis never stopped experimenting with their food and adapted all kinds of new ingredients and techniques. From the Portuguese they took vinegar and replaced the souring agents, tamarind and kokum, in their dishes. From the Dutch they adapted the ebelskiver pan to make Popatjees for tea. When they encountered the British, they took to all things British like ducks to water and were soon making custards both sweet
and savoury. Their Lagan nu Custard is perhaps their most iconic dessert and its essentially an English sweet custard, flavoured with nutmeg and cardamom and topped with raisins and nuts. Way before fusion food was the flavour of the year, the Parsis fused British béchamel with Portuguese vinegar, Persian barista (fried onions) and fried garlic and cooked Pomfrets (a decidedly local fish) to create their iconic Sahs ni Machchhi.
VIBRANT FLAVOURS
Migrant groups coming to the west coast of India are not limited to the Parsis and the Bene Israelis, the Pathare Prabhus with their unique one-pot dishes (where all the ingredients are simultaneously placed into the pot and not cooked in sequence), their Rajasthani and Gujarati influenced cuisine and their Arab inspired desserts (like Roath—a spiced semolina cake reminiscent of Arabic Harissa and Lebanese Namoura) came to Mumbai (according to their own oral traditions) in the 13th century. They too took to the seafood and the local produce especially the Rajeli bananas of Vasai and the Ghol fish and Bombay Ducks. Like the Parsis, they accepted into their repertoire all kinds of influences. They took the technique of baking, using it to make the most interesting pies using Bombay Ducks, prawns and mince.
UNIQUE TWISTS
The movement of migrants and their cuisines has continued unabated. In the 20th century, Mumbai has had waves of Punjabi and Sindhi migrants from Pakistan who made the city their home. The Punjabi Samosa is undeniably part and parcel of the city’s street food and snack scene but few people know how recent an entrant it is. The humble meat filled sambusak of Turkey is today the pride of Mumbai’s street food second perhaps only to the vada-pav. The vada-pav in turn is almost entirely of Portuguese pedigree. They brought pav to India, they brought the potatoes and chillies that make the vada’s bulk and flavouring and they are even responsible for bringing the groundnut to India whose oil is most favoured in frying the vadas.
Migrant communities with their foods and food habits have come again and again like the waves of the Arabian Sea repeatedly crashing into the west coast of India shaping and moulding its culinary landscape.
The Punjabi Samosa, a humble meat filled sambusak of Turkey is today the pride of Mumbai’s street food second perhaps only to the vada-pav