Why Indian food deserves to be fancy
A spicy take on the growing, creative range of Indian restaurants across the U.S.
This post originally appeared on Red, White and Brown’s newsletter on Substack (Issue #75 sent on Sept. 12, 2024).
During Tuesday night’s presidential debate between former President Donald Trump and Vice President Kamala Harris, Trump responded to a moderator question about border security by claiming immigrants in Springfield, Ohio, are “eating dogs,” “eating the cats” and “eating the pets of the people that live there.”
That claim has been debunked. It is not true. It’s indicative of the ridiculous spread of misinformation through memes on social media and politicians that wish to capitalize on that xenophobia. (PBS NewsHour’s William Brangham did an excellent report on what is actually happening in Springfield, with the growth of the city’s Haitian population.)
But as NPR reported, that now-infamous line is nothing new: Language about food has long othered immigrants in the U.S. — everything from the garlic Italian immigrants use in their cooking to the use of beans in Mexican diets. NPR linked to a piece from Jean Rachel Bahk, who writes in the Inlandia literary journal: “The dog-eating stereotype has historically been utilized to belittle Asians and Asian immigrants as well as to justify imperialistic pursuits of Asian countries….”
It’s just more of the same-old “perpetual foreigner” stereotypes, whether about Asian communities, or in this case, Haitians.
But it got me thinking about my own experiences, as most kids from immigrant families have some sort of “lunchbox moment” — so much so it has become a trope. I’ll oblige: I mostly took PB&J or egg-salad sandwiches, me mostly preferring the Doritos and gummy fruit snacks in my lunch box. As a vegetarian, the hot-lunch options in 1990s elementary cafeterias were dire, so my dad would sometimes stop by school with a surprise delivery of Taco Bell spicy tostadas, so I wouldn’t feel left out of an occasional hot lunch.
But on the handful of times I took something Indian, my experiences were surprisingly mostly positive in my suburban upbringing. (I don’t have a compelling lunchbox moment.) One of my third-grade classmates actually kept asking me for my mom’s vegetable biriyani recipe, after we served it during an India heritage day at school. Only once did an annoying classmate in middle school gawk at my green mint-chutney sandwich, calling it “moldy cheese.” I, flustered with the uncultured boy, told him to shut up, and I still ate the delicious lunch.
I have always loved Indian food — the South Indian dishes native to my family that remain like comfort food to me, as well as North Indian cuisine, especially dal makhani with a crispy paratha.
So when politicians with big platforms continue to poke at immigrant communities, who continue to bring a beautiful array of foods to the U.S., I can’t help but reiterate how dang proud I am of my ancestral recipes: The nuanced flavors of Indian spices bring complexity and layering to food — so much so spices have long created global demand and shaped the world’s travel trajectory.
This week reminded me of my spicy take on the topic of Indian restaurants across the U.S.
Indian food deserves to be fancy and creative in America
Over the years, I’ve heard several Indian American peers, relatives and aunties/uncles say: “I’d never go buy outside Indian food.” “$15 for a dosa, why?” “We can just make it at home!”
I’m here to say: That’s way too simplistic to write it off. I absolutely love eating Indian food out and here’s why.
If one can drop $100+ for their family at The Melting Pot for fondue or some hip brunch spot for ricotta pancakes, why cringe to support Indian American small businesses?
The vast majority of Indian restaurants in the U.S. are what NYU food studies scholar Krishnendu Ray classifies as “curry houses” — those North Indian/Punjabi-style buffets that serve the almost-identical menus of chicken tikka masala, saag paneer, naan and mango lassis. The curry houses populate every city and town in the U.S. and are a wide range of good, so-so and bad. It’s what most non-Brown Americans think of when they hear “Indian food.”
Admittedly, I even like going to curry houses, because, as someone from a South Indian family, I have consumed thousands of homemade rotis and dosas, but I have made naan from scratch exactly zero times in my life. Eating garlic naan fresh from a tandoor with paneer tikka masala is not something I do regularly at home. I have also made samosas from scratch exactly zero times, to date. So why not enjoy it all at a restaurant?
But why do we have to accept culinary mediocrity as Indian Americans? Beyond the curry houses (and increasing dosa spots and chaat cafes) that pepper the United States landscape, Indian food can be fancy and creative, too.
Indian food deserves the nuance of spectrum that cuisines like Italian get across the U.S. You can buy a $3 slice of pizza or you can drop $200 at a fancy Italian spot. In the middle, there are your Olive Gardens and Oreganos of the country. In that same vein, I believe we should celebrate a range of Indian food options, and I’m excited in recent years that there are far more choices than the same-old curry houses.
Over the last couple years, I have tried Pijja Palace in Los Angeles, a refreshing take on an Indian sports bar. In San Francisco, there’s Copra (creative South Indian food), Besharam (spins of Gujarati favorites) and the Curry Pizza House fast-casual chain. At the now-defunct Dosa physical restaurants, the dosas were not that memorable but I’ll always reminisce their idli fries: fried, sliced idli, marinated in molaga podi (a spicy South Indian powder with lentils, seeds and red chilies, sometimes anglicized as “gunpowder”). Last month, Bombay Brasserie opened in SF’s Taj Campton Place hotel, blending Indian and French techniques. Chicago’s Superkhana International “seems to intentionally subvert expectations,” the Tribune wrote there. Rasika has become a Washington, D.C. institution — and reportedly a favorite of the Obamas. New York City’s Bungalow, Dhamaka and Semma have all made waves.
I am eager to try Swadesi Cafe in Chicago, with its sleek branding, condensed-milk masala chai and unique spins on items, like a samosa-chaat croissant and carrot-halwa tartlets.
The New York Times food reporter Priya Krishna recently wrote:
Are we done with the butter-chicken era of Indian restaurants? With being asked to choose a spice level from 1 to 10 for entrees? With having to hear the redundant phrase “naan bread”
…
When I began working in food journalism 11 years ago, the hard-to-get-into restaurants in New York City were usually Italian, French or “new American.”… What a difference a decade makes.
I believe Indian food deserves to be fancy, because it allows us to break out of the curry-house mold and assert our creativity in the American food landscape — that the flavors from our homeland can be nuanced and on a spectrum, from cheap everyday-fast-food to mid-range meals to special-occasion delicacies. When I say “fancy,” it’s not for the sake of being fancy, but rather: How might experimental dishes celebrate the culinary creativity of our communities and the diversity of foods and flavors from Indian — and wider South Asian — subregions?
As a proud American, I want to see more of the quality and complexity of diasporic Indian food that you often see in London (Dishoom, anyone?), from Dallas to Denver to Detroit to D.C.
So while those who disagree with me might spend their dining dollars on other cuisines, I am going to keep supporting enterprising South Asian restauranteurs who are bold enough to bring some of the best flavors in the world to our American streets.
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