RAGHAVAN IYER was an Indian-born, American chef and author, who as the New York Times wrote, “has by some estimations taught more Americans how to cook Indian food than anyone else”. On 31 March 2023, at the age of 61, Iyer passed from pneumonia complicated by colorectal cancer; but before that, he released his last book – On The Curry Trail: Chasing The Flavor That Seduced The World. A rather fitting final journey of the world for a man who stirred up controversy from the purists of the Indian diaspora for his easy twists on classic preparations. He was always accused of going too far. Here, in On The Curry Trail, he tracks the influences of the curry powder, an ingredient that has helped many non-Indians acquaint themselves with the seduction and the spice-laden goodness of Indian cuisine.
In his introduction to the cookbook, Iyer writes, “The word curry was nonexistent in any of the languages spoken in India for thousands of years until the British set deep colonial roots in this subcontinent.” Through the invention of curry powder by the British colonists, the flavours of India were carried back to their homes in a can. And along with them onto the rest of the world from Madurai to Morocco, Jalandhar to Japan and beyond. On The Curry Trail is the perfect follow-up to his book 660 Curries: The Gateway to Indian Cooking (from 2008), “that captured the essence of curry as seen through the eyes of cooks and their eaters within the Indian subcontinent”.
Through the range of recipes in this cookbook, we understand that spices and recipes moved around the world in the hull of trading ships, in the pockets of indentured labourers and homesick tastes of navy men. And over these many centuries, the cooking techniques and regional proportions of the spice blends were modified to satisfy more local palates and possibilities. In On the Curry Trail, Iyer gives us his recipe for Madras curry powder, which he describes as “the mother blend” of curry powder mixes. And not surprisingly after reading this cookbook, while trying to make Nigerian jollof rice one Sunday, a dish from my father’s homeland, I found the recipe calling for some Madras curry powder, and using Iyer’s recipe felt like adding back a part of my present location of South India into the dish.
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This cookbook has a whole range of these mother blends, there’s a recipe for berbere, a blend of toasted whole spices with ginger and nutmeg; a curry powder from Trinidad and Tobago and niter kibbeh, an Ethiopian clarified butter scented with toasted fenugreek seeds and cinnamon sticks that has presently made a permanent appearance on my kitchen counter. It adds a teasing and tempting spicy aroma to every dish, and I even find myself toasting bread in this concoction. He even manages to make the trinity of Thai curry pastes – red, yellow and green – accessible through his easy teaching.
Nothing in the book seems impossible, instead he makes it all seem surreptitiously easy. Or more accurately, he writes encouragingly, never making it sound harder than it is. He’s always helpfully providing tips at the end of the recipes that seem like the ones our grandmothers, mothers and aunts don’t share with us. There’s also a definite spirit of the tried-and-tested to each of the recipes, and Iyer isn’t the only source of them. He graciously acknowledges the contributions of friends and acquaintances, who guided his hand, or whose recipes he has tweaked a little bit. Another element of the book that allows for easy breathing is the welcome lack of perfectly styled photographs of the food; instead the book is peppered with illustrations. This choice seems to free the reader from arriving at a standard version, instead allowing for them to play, plate and perfect as they fancy.
Iyer moved to Minnesota from Mumbai in the early ‘80s without knowing how to make a single dish, and over four decades grew into an expert. On The Curry Trail: Chasing The Flavor That Seduced The World has that same spirit of ‘anyone can start here’. And Iyer ever so gently reminds us that failure isn’t an option either ways because “ever adaptable, curry takes nearly infinite – and always flavourful – forms.”