Why do chefs in India continue to serve imitations

It is a truth universally acknowledged that any “modern”, “progressive” or “progressive but traditional”— call it what you will — Indian restaurant will dish out the panipuri.

It could masquerade as a pebble — lustrous and smooth — or a chocolate shell filled with mouth-burning chilli water. Or, it could sit like an egg on a nest of inedible god-knows-what.

The water may be indeed water, served in syringes or test tubes, or it may be gel. The puffed-up puri may be dainty enough to fit in your mouth or so tiny to be dumped in the spicy water in an inversion of the dish wherein the liquid fills the solid. Whatever be its form, the panipuri is a fixture, right at the beginning of the meal, on modern Indian menus.

It is obviously meant to surprise and delight. Except that after the second such experience, no one is surprised by its appearance.

The panipuri is just one of the many familiar clichés served by chefs, deriving inspiration from Gaggan or Indian Accent, claiming an originality that is conspicuous by its absence. In fact, “inventive” Indian restaurants follow quite a familiar pattern. The dishes that come rolling out of their kitchens are so comically (or tragically) the same that had it not been for the beguiling presentations, diners may have yawned at the appearance of each course.

After the golgappa, some sort of redefined yoghurt will make an appearance. It may arrive at your table as a wobbly sphere or as airy foam but it will clearly pay obeisance to Gaggan’s Yoghurt Explosion, which itself may have been a nod to the papdi chaat. It may have been accused of being a novel thought about a decade ago but is certainly not now.

Derivative dishes come in a steady trickle. There is the cheesy bread, a combination that every pizza takeaway claims as a bestseller. In modern Indian restaurants, this is some sort of naan done in a pizza oven, with a springy or thin crust, combined with cheese of some kind, Himalayan or French.

There is also inevitably galauti kebab, redone. It is often served up as a pâté by chefs who are supremely unconscious of culinary history — the French pâté possibly inspired the creation of the Lucknowi kebab in the first place. This is often topped with synthetic truffle oil to give it a burst of umami without even the pretence of finesse.

The list goes on: thepla tacos, chargrilled lamb chops, ribs inspired by Indian Accent’s star dish smeared with meetha pickle, rasam foam, different versions of the chicken tikka masala, which is not even an Indian dish. While Indian restaurants abroad may be fogiven for plating it as a populist trope, there is no excuse for its inclusion on menus in India, where audiences may have never tasted or taken to the original British monstrosity.

Finally, there is the dessert. If it is not some copy of Manish Mehrotra’s reinvention of Daulat ki Chaat, Old Delhi’s frothy winter delight, it is likely to be borrowed from Alinea. The Chicago restaurant serves desserts as “art” on the table, or a “smash”. At Indian restaurants, frozen mounds of rasmalai or mishti doi may be satisfactorily destroyed to be spooned up.

Why do chefs in India continue to serve so much pastiche on the plate while pretending it is original work? One reason is that audiences lap it up. In the last one month, I ate at three new modern Indian restaurants, all plating roughly the same dishes. While these were clichés for me, the clientele in general seemed to admire the “novelty”.

Most middle-class Indians are underexposed to high-end, luxury dining. When ideas of iconic dishes are copied by mid-level eateries catering to another segment of the market, it is easy to mistake these as “new”.

There’s more to it. A majority of Indian chefs need to let go of their intellectual laziness, where all the research they do is on the internet, particularly Instagram accounts of top chefs and restaurants.

It is a grave disservice to the culinary traditions of India, full of complexity and diversity. There are lesser known dishes and culinary traditions beyond the dishes that chefs pick up as inspiration. There are flavours beyond panipuri, dhokla, rasam and kebab. What about putting mangochi, soita and kuzhambu on the menu — cooked with all the intricacies intact?

If Indian chefs do not step into homes and put in time, energy and effort into researching nuanced dishes that have never been plated up commercially, India’s culinary culture will be greatly compromised.

We will have a generation of diners who only recognise kitsch chocolate golgappas and trashy, simplistic versions of street dishes as “Indian food”, instead of the wide and wondorous variety we have at our disposal.

And then, if someone, somewhere in the wild, wicked world of Twitter tells us that they hate Indian food, we will hardly be in a place to respond: Do you have tastebuds?

Source:- https://retail.economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/food-entertainment/food-services/why-do-chefs-in-india-continue-to-serve-imitations/72315917