Neverending story of Indian-Chinese cuisine

First, what happened in Goa…

The town of Mapusa slapped a five-day ban on the streetside sale of gobi manchurian—during the five-day annual fair at the Bodgeshwar temple zatra (fair). The reason offered by the local councillor: 

[T]he dish poses a serious health hazard as it is prepared under “unhygienic conditions in roadside stalls” during the fair. “Vendors add synthetic colours, Ajinomoto [monosodium glutamate or MSG], and poor-quality sauces… made from a powder which contains reetha [Indian soapberry, often used in shampoos and detergents ],” he said.

The ‘outsider’ Manchurian: It wasn’t clear why gobi manchurian was called out—since ingredients of all Indian street food are suspect at the best of times. Hence, the debate soon tail-spun into politics—with some accusing Goan netas of being parochial:

A lot of vendors selling gobi manchurian at stalls are not natives of Goa… There is often a sentiment that the culture of another place may come in and alter its character. In Goa, gobi manchurian has become popular over the years especially among the vegetarian tourist crowd… There is no hygiene issue in the preparation of this dish.

Columnists then began rehashing age-old questions of “authenticity” blah, blah blah. All of which was a bit silly and misses the point—since the cuisine was never ‘authentic’. This ‘mongrel’ has gleefully soaked in all sorts of traditions—alongside Indian tastes, experiences and aspirations. The story of Chinese cuisine in—and out of India—is far more compelling than a silly fight over a single dish.

Let’s start at the very beginning…

The first immigrant: In the 18th century, Calcutta—the colonial capital—was a magnet to workers from other parts of Asia. The first Chinese person to make the trip was a tea trader named Yang Dazhao—now popularly known as Yang Atchew. He arrived in 1778 and set up a sugar mill. But the numbers of Chinese in Bengal remained insignificant. In 1901, there were 1,640 Chinese people living in Calcutta—so there was not much demand for Chinese food.

The World War boom: That number surged to 26,250 by the end of World War II. This  second wave of migration brought primarily Hakka carpenters, shoemakers, dentists, launderers, tannery owners, beauticians and shoe shop owners. Thus were born the two Chinatowns in Calcutta: Tiretta Bazaar and Tangra. 

The first Chinese restaurant: First came roadside stalls and hole-in-the-wall eateries that catered to Chinese workers:

Most people who migrated at the time were very poor and had to leave their families behind. Only a few women were present then, and they began to serve homely food with their husbands as a side business.

Soon Hakka factory workers in Tangra moved into the restaurant business—this time catering to the locals:

Initially, the Chinese eating houses were for the Chinese only. But soon, they realized that Indians wanted to eat in these, too. So they came up with food for Indian tastes, because the Indians refused to eat bland food.

The first Indian-Chinese restaurant: opened in 1924—and was called Nanking (Slurrp says it’s Eau Chew). Nanking’s clientele moved way past lowly Chinese labour. The restaurant served Cantonese food to Hindi film stars Raj Kapoor and Dilip Kumar—alongside Europeans living in the city. Its success inspired a great number of copycats and the desi-fication of Chinese cuisine was complete. ‘Sichuan’ became the staple ‘Schezwan’—“a sauce made from onions, ginger, garlic, a mix of Indian spices, and large amounts of oil.” Today, of course, we have not just sauce but also Schezwan aloo chaat, Schezwan chutney… Sky's the limit for Schezwan.

Gloomy postscript to note: According to Vice, Nanking today is “a worn-down building that moonlights as a hub for the sale of heroin.” Sad.

The Bombay edition #1: Oddly enough, the mighty manchurian does not have a Bengali pedigree. Its inventor Nelson Wang was a Calcutta boy—but moved to Bombay to become an assistant chef at the Taj Mahal hotel in the 1970s. Soon after, his enduring legacy gift was born:

Wang has been credited with the creation of manchurian, after a customer requested something different from the dishes that were already on the menu. Then caterer of Chinese food at the Cricket Club of India, Wang deep fried chopped chicken coated in corn flour. He then added a fiery sauce made with onions, garlic, chilli, soy sauce and vinegar. 

FYI: Wang is also credited with other delights like lollipops and hot-and-sour soup. He also elevated Indian Chinese to the world of high-end dining—his establishments became the places to be seen. 

The Bombay edition #2: Around the same time, South Bombay socialites also discovered the ‘real’ stuff—i.e Chinese cuisine from China. Taj’s marketing head Camellia Panjabi had a Sichuan—not Schezwan—meal in Hong Kong and fell in love. She brought back two Hong Kong chefs and unveiled Taj’s new asli Chinese restaurant—‘The Golden Dragon’—in 1973. Five years later, its cousin House of Ming opened to great fanfare in Delhi.

Moving downmarket again: Indian Chinese moved from the street stalls of Calcutta to the rarefied confines of five-star hotels in Bombay—and then back again to restaurants catering to the middle class in Delhi. Vir Sanghvi connects the success of House of Ming to the birth of “Punjabi-Chinese, or Sino-Ludhianvi cuisine”: 

The House of Ming served real Chinese food but other restaurateurs worked out that if you made chilli-hot red sauces and added soya, you could create pseudo-Chinese dishes that guests would love. If there had been no House of Ming, there would be no Chinjabi food today.

As Quartz notes, Indian Chinese restaurants were the primary beneficiaries of the middle class culture of “eating out” as a family treat:

“In the 1980s and 1990s, going out to eat meant going to a Chinese restaurant,” Bonnerjee said. “Now you have everything, but I think the first cuisine that sort of opened up the taste buds to the others is the Chinese.” With all its rice and gravy-based dishes, Chinese food was the ideal combination of foreign and familiar for Indians…

Amusing point to note: Forced to accommodate the far-too-Indian tastes of its VIP guests, the House of Ming was soon dubbed the ‘House of Singh’.

Indian Chinese: Still evolving after all this time

Indians today can eat any kind of cuisine—anywhere in the world. Their tastes have evolved and shifted—and so has the Indian relationship to Chinese cuisine. 

Fusion to the max: The OG fusion cuisine has since fused with all sorts of other kinds of Indian culinary traditions—to create something that’s more, um, Chinese Indian?! Forget gobi manchurian, we now have schezwan dosas, even manchurian chinese bhel. Our personal favourite: The Mahesh Chinese Tandoori Biryani Corner. Indian Chinese has once again returned to its street food roots—the kind banned by prissy Goan netas.

Return of upmarket ‘authenticity’: The new generation of Indians are global foodies—looking to expand their taste buds and horizons:

While the love for Indian Chinese hasn’t wavered, a more aware and well-travelled food enthusiast is on the hunt for the real deal. Shunning the comfort of a good plate of hakka noodles and chicken manchurian, there’s now a growing demand for Cantonese and Hakka food, minus the Indian embellishments.

In other words, ‘authentic’ Chinese has once again become a marker of good taste. 

What’s interesting: Many of these new restaurants are helmed by third-generation Indian Chinese restaurateurs—whose grandparents ran establishments in ye old Calcutta. And we increasingly have imported chefs like Fu Lei who are allergic to mixing of any kind: “I don’t plan on doing fusion dishes at the restaurant because doing away with tradition also does away with an authenticity which is key here.”

The diaspora edition: But Indian Chinese can never stand still. It is still shifting and creating. Indians have taken their comfort cuisine with them to new shores—much as the original Chinese migrants in Kolkata. As one writer wryly notes: 

Now, I am told, there are more Kolkata Hakka Chinese restaurants in Toronto than you can find in Tangra as the new touristy places serve a strange hybrid of Tangra, Punjabi and Thai.

There are Indian Chinese restaurants everywhere—from Singapore to New York City—once again changing as the cuisine puts down new roots. In Harrow, Steven Lee—an immigrant from Kolkata—is always inventing new dishes for his restaurant Hakkaland. They now reflect the melting pot culture of London—adding a new twist to his Indian Chinese repertoire: 

Lee enjoys inventing new dishes for his guests. Two years working in Tanzania, East Africa, introduced him to mogo, a cassava dish often cooked by the roadside. Adding his own spicy twist to the starchy root, he serves it kung pao, salt-and-pepper, or garlic chilli style.

The bottomline: Indian Chinese has become all the rage in the US today—and Americans are just beginning to discover the joys of the maligned gobi manchurian. One Indian restaurant owner says: "It's so popular that it's difficult to take it off [the menu]. And it sells as much as butter chicken." To which we say, long live the House of Singh.

Reading list

Slurrp, Vice, National News and Quartz are the best on the history of the cuisine. Conde Nast Traveler, South China Morning Post and CNN offer an overview. BBC News reports on the rise of Indian Chinese in the US—while Scroll looks at its spread to Australia. Grazia has more on Indian demand for ‘real’ Chinese food. Vir Sanghvi is excellent on the history of high-end Chinese cuisine—tracing the evolution of the House of Ming.