Many years ago at a time which I presume was an era of higher than normal immigration into the United States by people from India, there were many cab drivers in New York City who hailed from the subcontinent. I’ve always felt that the pulse of immigration trends are often felt most clearly in the cab driving population. I’m wondering how Uber and Lyft have changed that, but I’ll bet not too much. It’s tricky to make assumptions about national origin based on the reading of a name on a license or the look of one’s dashboard. It can be particularly so with people of the subcontinent since the Hindu/Muslim divide can make mistaking an Indian and a Pakistani a bit touchy. But the differences are hard to distinguish to the average American when it comes to the aroma that used to inhabit those cabs, the aroma of curry. This is not intended as a slur of any kind, but a mere remembrance and observation that curry and cabs were unmistakably linked in those days.
Curry has incredibly ancient origins, with archaeological evidence suggesting people have been enjoying curry-like dishes for about 4,500 years. Residue of ginger, garlic, and turmeric (basic curry ingredients) on pottery and skeletal remains dates from 2500 BCE. These ancient origins trace back to early urban civilizations in the Indus Valley, which spans across modern-day India and Pakistan. While we can’t know for certain if these ancient spice combinations were exactly like modern curry, they may have served as the prototype for what we enjoy today. The spices were valued not just for flavor but also for their medicinal properties, which contributed to their widespread use.
The word “curry” comes from the Tamil word “kari,” which means “sauce” in Western usage and refers to “a dish composed with a sauce or gravy seasoned with a mixture of ground spices.” The term “curry” was first encountered by the British in the 17th century. A crucial development in curry’s evolution was the introduction of chili peppers to India by the Portuguese. Another significant step in curry’s creation was the arrival in India of spicy hot chili peppers, along with other ingredients such as tomatoes and potatoes, part of the Columbian exchange of plants between the Old World and the New World.
As curry traveled across the globe, it developed various regional forms. The word “curry” most likely comes from a misunderstanding of the southern Indian word “kari.” In the 17th century, the Portuguese who colonized Goa took the word to mean a “spiced stew” over rice, and “kari” eventually became “caril” or “caree” in Portuguese, then “curry” in English. British bureaucrats and army members living in India developed a taste for local dishes, with their cooks adapting recipes to suit British palates, giving birth to the modern curry dishes we know today. In the 1970s, chicken tikka masala was developed in the UK when an Indian chef reportedly added Campbell’s condensed tomato soup to traditional chicken tikka after a British customer complained it was too dry. This dish became so popular that in 2001, it was voted Britain’s favorite dish. “Going for a curry” has become a distinctly British culinary passion.
Beyond its delicious taste, curries are known to have health benefits. Studies have shown that ingredients in curry may help prevent conditions like colon cancer and Alzheimer’s disease. The reaction of pain receptors to hot curry ingredients can aid in the body’s release of endorphins, leading to feelings of wellbeing and happiness. From its ancient origins in the Indus Valley to becoming a beloved dish across the globe, curry’s journey reflects the complex interplay of cultural exchange, colonial influence, and culinary innovation throughout history.
Once, while in a cab on the East Side of Manhattan, a very polite young driver asked if he could stop momentarily on Third Avenue as we headed for JFK. I agreed and then realized we were stopping at the Mother Ship for this new breed of drivers. He ran in and came right out almost instantly with a plastic bag that had a strong aroma of curry. The sign on the establishment was perfectly descriptive. It was called Curry in a Hurry. The cab ride was so pungent with the smell that I wondered if I would be taking it with me in my suit fibers back to its origins to London, my destination that evening.
We don’t eat Indian food as often as we do Chinese food, but we certainly do enjoy it when we do. Last night we took our visiting friends Gary and Oswaldo to join other family members for a curry dinner at a place called Curry and More. I’m not sure what the more is, but curry is what we go there for. We have Tikka Masala, Tandoori, Biryani, Murg, Saag Paneer, Korma and Naan and have to select our level of spiciness from 1 to 10. We have concluded that to the local wait staff a 10 for someone who looks like us is a 2 for anyone who looks authentically from the subcontinent. My guess is that the waiter just has a much simpler scale of spiciness that he alone determines for you on your behalf.
I understand the universal appeal of curry. I like curried turkey salad from Trader Joe’s. Kim regularly makes me dinner of curried chicken over rice. In fact, I am not sure why we don’t go for Curry and More more often. It clearly agrees with us. In fact, I suspect we actually like it more than either Chinese or Mexican food, which is saying a lot given our time living near Chinatown in Manhattan and in Northern Mexico here in San Diego. But we still treat Indian food as more of a specialty and one-off meal rather than a staple. Perhaps that’s why I say we may like it more or should I say…Curry and more.