What is so original about the Sambhaar?

Last night’s dinner menu was – saadham (rice), mullangi (radish) sambhaar, kootu with peerkangai (ridge gourd) and sorakkai (bottle gourd), kathirikkai podimas (brinjal dry preparation with lentils), beans poriyal (dry side dish) and a salad of cucumber, carrot and baby mangoes. Cooking all this was simple enough. Following mom’s instructions, that is.

Heat oil in a pan, add asafoetida, a few fenugreek seeds, throw in chopped onions, let them turn pink, add pounded garlic, add 1-2 green chillies, add radish and fry a while. Add chunks of chopped tomatoes, salt, turmeric, sambhaar powder, amchur (dry mango powder instead of tamarind) and water. Let it boil down till radish is cooked and the raw smell of the sambhar powder vanishes. Add boiled toor dal (pigeon pea) and let boil again. Heat oil in a separate pan, pop mustard seeds, curry leaves and add to the cooked sambhaar. Garnish with chopped coriander leaves. It is that easy...

The Sambhaar took the longest time among all dishes – as it brewed and bubbled in the pot, I started thinking. How did this all begin?

According to the Wikipedia,

· Tomatoes came from South America. Known to the Aztecs somewhere near 500 BC, it took a long route to India. The Spanish took it to their colonies in Caribbean and on to the Philippines from where it reached South East Asia, probably including India. This was not until the 1500’s at least.

· Radish was domesticated in Europe in pre-Roman times but there is no way to determine its earlier history and domestication.

· Pigeon pea’s cultivation happened at 3000 years back somewhere in Asia.

· In Bronze Age settlements, onion remains were found alongside fig and date stones dating back to 5000 BC. There is also postulation that cultivation probably took place around 2000 years later in ancient Egypt.

· Chillies originated in the Americas and have been a part of the human diet since at least 7500 BC. After Christopher Columbus’ expedition, chillies quickly conquered the globe taking Mexico and Philippines enroute to India. Or, it came to India via Spain with help from the Portuguese.

· Coriander is native to Southwestern Asia and west to North Africa.

· Fenugreek seeds are believed to have been brought into cultivation in the Near East. Charred fenugreek seeds have been recovered from Tell Halal, Iraq, (radio carbon dating to 4000 BC) and as well as desiccated seeds from the tomb of Tutankhamen.

· Tamarind – is native to Africa, including Sudan and parts of Madagascar. But, the name is very Indian Tamar Hindi = Indian date, although it was known to ancient Egyptians and to the Greeks in the 4^th Century BC.

· Oh, there is something original to India in the sambhaar – the curry leaves, which most South Indians use it only for flavouring and never consume, setting them aside in their plates.

· And, the turmeric of which only a pinch is used – is native to tropical South Asia. Patents may have been granted to the turmeric in the Western World but it belongs to India.

Well, what is so original about the sambhaar then that South Indians salivate at its mention and swell with pride? Most of the ingredients didn’t originate in South India and not at least until the 1600s. So, some 400 years ago, there was a darn good chef, an unsung hero, who threw all these together to make the brown broth that conquered the native palates. He had pioneered the various uses of Sambhaar. Mix it in rice and eat with a vegetable dish, or eat the sambhaar with idlis and dosas or dunk some vadas in it. It is as South Indian as you can get it.

You think so? Not quite. A year ago, a charming 4 year old came to my Guragon home. I was to baby sit her while her mother needed the time to get her chores done. As the evening drew near, I called out to my maid and said, “Please get the sambhaar (sam pronounced like calm and bhaar like car) ready.” The kid quickly corrected me, “No Aunty, it is Sambhaar (bhaar pronounced like burr).” I tried correcting her right back, “No honey, it is Sambhaar,” emphasising on prolonging the last phonetic. She wouldn’t hear any of it. We went back and forth correcting each other. Finally, I told her, “Sambhaar comes from where I belong, so it has to be said the way I say so.” She was quite for a while after. When the bell rang an hour later and it was her mother at the door, off she ran. Just as the mother entered, the kid asked her mother, “Ma, hamare waale India mein Samburr bolte hain na?” In our India, don’t we call it Samburr?

Really, what is so original or South Indian about Sambhaar or Samburr?