Dosé Purists and The (Futile) War Against Fusion Food

As a Bangalorean, I have the unfortunate luck of having to come across the self-proclaimed guardians of the authentic Masala Dosé, the ones whom you see on Instagram wrinkling their noses at a blameless street vendor making a Schezwan Masala Dosé, even going as far as calling it a “culinary sin” to mix flavours. 

However, it might displease our everyday Masala Dosé purists to know that their favourite dish was born from a rebellious desire and was considered sinful at the time of its creation, making our beloved cuisine preservers a tad bit hypocritical, so let’s delve into a story for a bit, shall we?

My plate of Masala Dosé - Airlines Hotel, Bangalore

From Dosha to Dosé 

Legend has it that in the temple town of Udupi, Karnataka, a Brahmin cook, seeking a taste of rebellion in a society where Brahmins abstained from alcohol, armed with rice and urad dal, attempted to brew his own concoction. However, his efforts failed, leading him to pour his botched batch onto a pan, where it transformed into a thin crêpe-like delicacy (that would change lives for generations to come). 

Udupi, Karnataka - Indicated with a dark green (source: ResearchGate)

In Kannada, "dosha" translates to "sin," hence the term was bestowed upon his failed attempt at brewing, which later evolved into the beloved dosé – immortalising one man’s fruitless bid at indulgence.

Now, personally, I would die of embarrassment if people celebrated my one mistake for centuries together. Still, as we all know, some of the best inventions have often started off as errors.

The story of the Masala Dosé takes us closer to the present day, with some crediting a few ingenious cooks who created the dish to hide onions in the potato in times of a potato scarcity, so the Brahmins could still eat the same amount of food but not know that they were consuming the forbidden onion. Others say it was created to ensure leftovers from a Mysore Wodeyar banquet were not wasted.

Over the years, the dish has evolved to have multiple variants, so much so, that it led to the rise of the now-omnipresent “99 Variety Dosa Stalls”. Like anything else in the history of humankind, these changes have been met with vehement opposition, and the cult of the Dosé purists has only grown in popularity, with their reaction to the humble Dosé’s harmless variations ranging from superiority complex induced nose-wrinkling to maniacal rage-bait videos of them yelling at their screens.

It’s of course easy to argue that I’m equally guilty of adding to the traction that a seemingly trivial non-issue is receiving, but as someone who will try almost any absurd combination of food out of curiosity, I feel the need to defend those who are both inquisitive and interesting enough to experiment with cuisines.

However, this isn’t just a personal agenda that I’m trying to fulfill, the presence of a food culture that combines the palates of a diverse community plays an important role in furthering multiculturalism, cultural tolerance, and inclusion

Fusion Food and the Social Sciences

Schezwan Dosa, an Indo-Chinese cuisine dish (source: b2dplate.com)

Fusion food holds significant anthropological importance as it serves as a tangible expression of cultural exchange and adaptation. Through the blending of ingredients, flavours, and cooking techniques from different cultures, fusion cuisine reflects the dynamic nature of human interaction and migration patterns. It provides insight into historical encounters, trade routes, and social dynamics, illustrating how diverse communities have influenced and shaped each other's culinary traditions over time. 

Additionally, it fosters a sense of inclusivity and mutual understanding, highlighting the shared experiences and interconnectedness of global cultures. 

Fusion food also holds profound sociological significance, serving as a reflection of contemporary society's multicultural fabric. In an increasingly globalised world, fusion cuisine embodies the intersectionality of cultures, challenging traditional notions of identity and belonging. 

By blending diverse culinary traditions, fusion food promotes cultural exchange and dialogue, fostering empathy and understanding among different communities. It creates spaces for cross-cultural encounters and promotes social cohesion by celebrating diversity rather than emphasising divisions. 

Moreover, fusion cuisine often emerges in urban centres, where diverse populations coexist, serving as a symbol of cosmopolitanism and inclusivity. It helps sociologists explore how culinary practices shape social interactions, identities, and power dynamics, offering valuable insights into the complexities of modern multicultural societies.

However, the blending of cuisines isn’t a contemporary phenomenon, tracing Indian fusion cuisine’s history takes us back several centuries and shows us that what the purists consider “tainting a traditional recipe” has been the origin story of several popular dishes that we love in its present form.

Historical Perspectives

A lot of foods typically associated with Indian cuisine are actually the product of cultural amalgamation and the assimilation of their foods into the native diet that came after the dawning of the Mughal era. Whether it is Naan, Kofta, Jalebi, Phirni, or more, we owe these dishes to Afghan cuisine. 

Memoirs like Baburnama and Akbarnama hold an abundance of information about the food and eating habits of the time. Much like the citizens adopted Mughal cuisine, Akbar, too played the game of food politics better than all his predecessors and successors, avoiding using cows as food which his father Humayun did. Humayun’s men ate beef and that incited Rajputs to anger. Akbar went to the extent of becoming a virtual vegetarian to maintain peace, and also his supremacy. 

The Ni’matnama, known as the Book of Delights, gives us a glimpse into early Mughal cuisine. It was put together by Ghiyath Shah, the Sultan of Malwa, back in the fifteenth century. When Akbar took over the Malwa Sultanate in 1562, this cookbook made its way into the Mughal kitchens. Inside, you'll find detailed recipes, often accompanied by charming miniature illustrations featuring the king at the heart of the scene. The book even categorises dishes, sorting them into what's fit for a king, what's humble fare, and what the king particularly loved.

One interesting dish mentioned in the Ni’matnama is the Sambusa. Let me know if this dish sounds familiar to you. Sambusas are made with a pastry of refined flour, filled with a savoury, spicy mixture, and then fried. The filling for this snack was earlier crafted from venison. Today, we all love and know this dish to be the crowd-favourite Samosas, though now they typically feature a mix of potatoes, peas, and onions as their filling. Despite the evolution in ingredients, Samosas remain a beloved tea-time snack across modern India that we once again have the Mughals to thank for.

Persian manuscript Nimatnama-i-Nasiruddin-Shahi explaining how samosas should be cooked (source: Wikimedia Commons)

The colonial era, too, gave India some of its most iconic cuisines. The Portuguese, who introduced cheese to India, helped inspire the creation of popular Bengali sweets such as the Rasgulla, or Sandesh. Goan experimentation of the cuisine gave birth to the sui generis Vindaloo. In fact, it is the Portuguese who introduced Pav to India, unwittingly helping us create some of the best dishes that Maharashtrian food has to offer.

Masala Chai rose from the British import of tea, and is now a household staple in the country, with Indians correcting the Western world about their Chai Tea tautologies (as we should, honestly, we only made it better, and I’m saying this as someone who cannot stand the taste of most teas, but fret not, before you automatically assume all my opinions to be incorrect, I am certainly the biggest kesar tea fan you will find, please let me keep my Aadhar card with me now)

The Ever-present Multiculturalism

As our brief tryst with the history of food in India helps us understand, most of our food exists as a result of cultural blends, experimentation, and using indigenous ingredients. 

Take the Samosa, for example. While its evolution into its present recipe was significantly easier due to a lack of… er, passionate keyboard warriors, it is reasonable to assume that the vegetable stuffing rose in popularity due to it being an easy and pocket-friendly alternative to a rare meat like venison, and also to cater to the large vegetarian population. 

However, it is easier to compare Dosés to Pav Bhaji. Neither have lost their original recipe, but they certainly have numerous variations, some more sensible than others. Both rely on readily available ingredients, cater to a variety of dietary preferences, and require a limited number of items. 

The fact that we haven’t lost the traditional method of Dosé-making over time is a testament to the fact that it has been loved the way it is for several centuries now, and if its rise in popularity is an indicator, it will continue to capture hearts for generations to come.

However, no food is immune to experimentation, just ask the Italians, who would be appalled by the Indian renditions of pizzas and pasta. But you’d be lying if you said you thought a paneer tikka pizza was an abomination, and would rather eat a bland Margherita instead.

Indo-Chinese food too, is a great example of blending two distinct flavours to make a well-liked cuisine. Would you really say no to a plate of Gobi Manchuri, honestly?

Gobi Manchurian, the epitome of the success of fusion food (Image by Anil sharma from Pixabay)

The multiple varieties of Dosés are no different. Cheese tastes excellent on Dosé, even better with Schezuan sauce. Pav Bhaji Dosé is just the same Aloo Pallya filling in a different font, it even has peas sometimes, just like the original! Paneer tastes good in any Indian dish so I don’t want to hear complaints about a Paneer Dosé. I won’t complain about noodles Dosé, as I’m guilty of having wrapped my leftover Maggi from the previous night with homemade Dosé one too many times, and mushroom is just a personal choice, honestly. 

At the end of the day, more variations of so many staple foods are bound to crop up (I’ve seen hotels sell Idli Manchurians, not judging them, just curious about how the Idli doesn’t crumble) and more cuisines are going to get integrated together. Keeping an open mind, having calmer online discourse, and expanding our palates allow room for food innovation, a healthy coexistence of culture, and make internet spaces more welcoming for people who are just trying something new.  Just keep fizzy drinks away from any food made on hot stoves. We’ll all be happy (except me, who has to live with the fact that my curiosity got the better of me and led me to try biryani-flavoured ice cream, I feel the need to apologise to my taste buds every day for that grave error that I committed).