Favoring Curry

Dear Saucyman – What makes curry curry? Edith Pilaf

There is an actual curry plant, well, a tree anyway. Curry leaf is even used in curries, occasionally. The tree grows in tropical southern India, which, maybe not so coincidentally, is where the English had set up their colonial shop. Additionally, ‘kari’ is a Tamil word for a sauce or relish used over rice. The word curry, which has been used in the Western hemisphere since the late 16th century, could also possibly be a corruption of carriel, co-opted from the spice trading Portuguese who in turn borrowed the word, karil, from the Dravidian Kannada language.*

Contemporarily, curry designates a powder--that turmeric-rich, yellow, premixed, pre-ground, occasionally chalky powder sold in the spice aisle. Curry is also a generic term used to describe heavily spiced Anglo-Indian dishes. Particularly, it's how the Brits colloquially refer to Indian/Bangladeshi/Pakistani food, which is now generally recognized as the national cuisine of England. Not so imperial now are you, UK?

This is the problem: If the origins and usage of the word are vague and multi-sourced, so too is the spice mixture called curry. Perhaps a better term is garam masala. Literally "spicy mixture," this combination of spices is what we casually refer to as curry. Many garam masala mixtures originate from the colder, drier climes of northern India and, much like the style and substance of Northern Italian cooking differs from the foods of southern Italy, Indian food is not a homogenized product. It is not identical in every location, nor does it integrate every language, culture and religion of the sub-continent through cuisine.

Still, I prefer the term garam masala to curry. These mixtures allow for regional and personal variations rather than aspire towards uniformity. There are some constants. For one, the 4 Cs: cumin, cinnamon, cloves and coriander (the seed, not the leafy cilantro). Often, garam masala mixtures contain the 5th C, my favorite spice of all time, cardamom. Beyond, the blends can be augmented with saffron, and various seeds: fennel, sesame, mustard, pomegranate, peppercorns, chili, ginger, mace, laurel, nutmeg. They might also include the unfortunate hing, also aptly called asafetida, which doesn’t taste bad, but it is the assiest smelling thing this side of well, an ass.

Sameness of flavor should not be the goal of cooking, especially in a cuisine as diverse as India's. Spices differ from dish to dish. Here at Saucykitchens™, the peppery/cardayummy goodness of dry sautéed okra uses a different set of flavors than gingered chickpeas, while dals are flavored with a turmeric-centric blend of ground spices. And all of those combinations differ from the coconut milk curries used in the cuisine of Thailand and Southeastern Asia. So what makes curry curry? It is as hard a question to answer as what makes art art; there are too many variables to give a succinct response.

Next on Saucyman: Cantaloupe, a word from the kitchen.

Coming up: Like Mother Hubbard, the cupboard of many modern gals is bare. What essential items should a 21st century pantry contain? Saucyman has answers.


*The phrase "curry favor" is a little easier to track and has nothing to do with spice. To gain favor through obsequiousness is a corruption of "Curry Favel." Curry, the verb, means to groom, and apparently Favel was a horse in classic French literature, a symbol of duplicity, in a way that only French literature can explain. Anyone trying to win Favel over with flattery or grooming would stand accused, excuse me/moi, J’accuse, of currying Favel. Considering Favel is a horse and curry is something used in cooking. The thought of currying Favel/Favor suddenly has a more sinister and less tasty connotation.