Moving house is not an experience I would recommend. My life has been turned upside down these last several weeks, first with the turmoil of packing, and now unpacking the hundreds of cartons that have been transported by the movers from Devizes to East Lulworth in Dorset. Although this is a lovely part of the country, our village consists of 41 people.

Part of this tiring, tedious process is getting rid of stuff, and although I gave away scores of cookbooks to a local charity, we still have more than will fit into the shelves of the new kitchen. While putting them away, I have come across several volumes I had not gone through, and have wasted much time flipping through these unread books. One of them was Curries and Bugles by Jennifer Brennan, the daughter of a British army officer who served in India for much of his career. The author was deeply influenced by her early years in the subcontinent, and made a career of teaching and writing about Indian food in California.

More than a fervent exponent of Indian cuisine, Ms Brennan has researched her subject deeply. For instance, she reminds us how much we owe foreign traders and sailors for the rich palette of our spices:

Britishers’ longing for the stronger flavour of curry they enjoyed while in India led to the development of curry powder and Indian curry sauce

“… The Arabs brought fenugreek [methi] to India … They also introduced cumin and mustard. Coriander was contributed either by the Arabs or the Chinese. The saffron crocus came from the Mediterranean … Later still, the Portuguese introduced from the tropical islands of the Caribbean what was to become a dominant spice in Indian food, hot chilli peppers…. The flow of traders continued …”

Brits returning to Blighty after long service in India often grew nostalgic for the stronger flavours of curries, and asked their cooks to replicate them. This attempt led to ludicrous results with strange concoctions called curry powder or Indian curry sauce being prepared at home or being sold readymade. Recipes for this travesty varied. Here’s one for ‘Indian Curry Sauce’ the author has cited from Queen Victoria’s chef, Charles Elme Francatelli’s book The Modern Cook (1846):

“… two tablespoons of Cook’s or Bruce’s meat curry paste, a tablespoon of curry powder, and as much roux or flour as may be required to thicken the quantity of sauce needed.”

Long after the end of the Raj, desi food remains hugely popular in the UK. Just a couple of evenings before our final move from Devizes, we took a couple of friends to Coconut, the new Indian restaurant that opened recently a couple of miles away from town. I had tried to book a table earlier, but was told it was full. When we did eat there, the joint was humming. The restaurant was decorated in a bleak, soulless way, and service was a little too friendly, especially when the Bengali staff discovered I was from Pakistan.

Frankly, I had very low expectations as there are a couple of very average Indian restaurants owned and run by a Bengali family in Devizes. But the food at Coconut was surprisingly good, especially a halibut cooked in a creamy sauce infused with saffron. The fish retained its firmness, and although mild, the sauce had subtle spicing that did not kill the flavour of the fish. I have to explore our new neighbourhood to discover desi eateries in Dorset.

The country as a whole abounds in Indian restaurants ranging from tandoori to popular balti joints. At the top of the pile are the ritzy places in London like Gymkhana, Zaika and Mint. These offer well-presented, beautifully prepared meals in elegant settings. But they are not cheap, and can easily cost 50 pounds a head. Items like venison, duck and oysters feature on the menu, and starters begin at eight or nine pounds and swiftly climb upwards. Clearly, Britain has travelled a long way along the gastronomic path since Jennifer Brenann’s father had his Bombay Pudding at the dusk of Empire.

Published in Dawn, Sunday Magazine, July 26th, 2015

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