As a dish is handed down the generations, or passed from one country to another, its recipe is influenced by all those who make and eat it. At first, the differences might seem small, but over the years the dish can change out of all recognition. New ingredients are substituted for old, new methods of preparation are adopted and, every now and then, the dish is even given a new name.
This is particularly true of Anglo-Indian cuisine. One example is the dish now known as kedgeree. This is thought to have begun as khichdi, a traditional Indian dish made from rice and lentils or, less commonly, from millet and mung beans. Where and when it first emerged is uncertain, but its extreme antiquity is beyond doubt. Taking its name from the Sanskrit* word khicca, it is known to have existed at least as far back as the 4th century BC. More likely than not, its ingredients altered depending on the season, the availability of crops and the religion of its consumers.
Yet it was not until after the reopening of the Silk Road** in the 13th century AD that khichdi began to attract attention from outside India. Preoccupied above all with trade, European and North African travellers were also interested in learning about other aspects of Indian life, including its food. Their curiosity was, however, limited. They were content to familiarise themselves with the basic ingredients of dishes like khichdi and identify any similarities with their own cuisine, but nothing more.
During the Age of Exploration in the 15th and 16th centuries, the West’s attitude towards the Indian subcontinent became narrower and more prejudiced. European travellers ignored any similarities with their own cuisine and instead concentrated on the unfamiliarity of the dishes they consumed. Rarely did these travellers trouble to enquire into the regional variations of dishes such as khichdi. But in fact, by this time there was a range of different recipes for khichdi in different parts of India, so it could no longer be thought of as a single dish. In West Bengal in the east of India, for example, it was often eaten with pickle, while in Gujarat in the west, it was cooked with cumin and curry leaves.
The advent of British colonialism in the 18th century brought a fundamental change in attitude. The East India Company, originally formed to trade in the Indian Ocean area, soon began to govern large parts of the subcontinent. The Company soon discovered that, if it was to govern effectively, it could not afford to be dismissive of the country’s culture. British employees of the Company began to develop a taste for Indian food — including khichdi. A new recipe emerged out of the relationship between their wives — who wanted to adapt the recipe to their own culinary tastes — and the Indians who cooked for them. While rice remained the basis of the dish, eggs were added and lentils were replaced with locally caught flaked or smoked fish.
The new dish found its way back to Britain, complete with a new name: kedgeree. One of the earliest recipes is found in a cookery book written around 1790 by Stephana Malcolm. Although she lived in Scotland, her family travelled widely — including to India — and it was thanks to them that kedgeree featured in her recipe book. It was, however, a different dish. Many of the Indian ingredients simply could not be found in Scotland. Malcolm was able to replace some of these with haddock and other types of fish that could be bought cheaply from local fishermen, as well as cayenne pepper imported from South America.
After the dissolution of the East India Company and the British Crown’s assumption of direct rule in the subcontinent from 1858, kedgeree began to feature more and more regularly in recipe books in Britain until, by the end of the 19th century, it had become a favourite meal. It was, for the most part, viewed as an economical dish, which could even be made with leftovers.
But as the rule of the British in India went from being dominated by middle-class merchant adventurers to being the preserve of the upper classes, people’s attitudes towards kedgeree changed and it was frequently made with luxurious ingredients, such as salmon. By the early 20th century, this had led to it becoming associated not only with the tastes of aristocrats, but also with extravagance, even decadence. In Evelyn Waugh’s novel Brideshead Revisited (1945), for example, the hero orders kedgeree for breakfast on board an ocean liner.
Since the end of the British Empire in the mid-20th century, attitudes to kedgeree have changed again. Its ingredients have been democratised, and turmeric and other typically Indian elements have been reintroduced. But beneath the surface of modern recipes can still be glimpsed the faint traces of earlier versions: some marked by curiosity, others by prejudice, but all eloquent testimony to the West’s long relationship with India.