The Curious Case of the (Japanese) Curry
Travel Tales: Japan #2
Tokyo is a fascinating city. As a traveler, one could spend a whole week there and barely get a taste of it. However, since it was our first trip to Japan, we wanted to get a slice of the different parts of Japan, so we had budgeted only two days for Tokyo. As it happened, we ended up spending only one day due to unforeseen circumstances. Our itinerary for the day was the Asakusa district — a charming, older part of Tokyo, the Tokyo History Museum, and some street shopping in Ameyoko street market, followed by a conveyor belt Sushi bar outing.
We started the day taking mandatory selfies at the Kaminarimon (aka, the thunder gate), the outer gate leading to the Sensō-ji Temple. This gate has two protector gods on each side: Fūjin (the wind god) and Raijin (the thunder god). The legend goes that these two gods (brothers) brought in the kamikaze (the divine winds) that made the Mongols abandon their invasion of Japan in the thirteenth century. Even taking out the gods from the story, the Mongol invasion was indeed thwarted by a typhoon. We know the word Kamikaze thanks to World War 2, where the Japanese Special Attack Unit used suicide bombers to destroy the warships of the Allied forces.
There is an inner gate, the Hōzōmon gate, also flanked by two statues on either side. These are the Niō guardians named Agyo and Ungyo. They are the guardians of Buddhism. The a and un sounds are supposed to denote the beginning and the end1 of everything.
The Sensō-ji Temple is a well-preserved Buddhist temple situated not far from a sprawling business district and a modern riverfront — something you’d often see in Japan, a confluence of the new and the old, the traditional and the modern, of Shintoism and Buddhism, of commerce and spirituality.
Wasn’t this supposed to be about curry, you ask? Yes, I’m getting there. After spending some time in the crowded temple premises and the shops on the way to it, window shopping and eventually buying a few souvenirs, we moved towards the waterfront. Since we had been eating soups and noodles and bento boxes in the days leading up to this, our friend asked if we wanted to try some curry, as we were next to a curry joint of Coco Ichibanya chain, the largest Japanese curry chain in Japan (the door had a sign proclaiming that, too).
Note for Indian tourists: it’s not very easy to find vegetarian restaurants in Japan, especially outside of Tokyo. Also, we learnt that it’s easier to find vegan places than vegetarian, which kinda makes sense as it’s much easier to define vegan as opposed to vegetarian, which includes animal products but not eggs or meat, etc.
We got our food parcels and proceeded to the Sumida riverside to make the best of a pleasantly warm day after three cold ones. The curry was silky smooth, thick, sweetish (I opted for mid-spicy), and delicious (I opted for thin-sliced pork curry). It wasn’t anything like what Indians understand as curries (although the strong presence of Turmeric was obvious to the Indian in me). I have never had the British curry (although from what I understand, it’s a catch-all phrase for anything with a gravy, so something like butter chicken qualifies), however, some googling confirmed that it’s a much closer cousin of the Japanese curry.
The Origin Story of Curry?
The etymology and evolution of the word “curry” seem to parallel the origins and evolution of the dish in the world. The English word seems to have evolved from kari in Tamil. But the meaning of the Tamil word may itself not be that straightforward. Some claim that it means black pepper (we’d get to that), while some claim it means a spicy (or light spicy) sauce, and I found a few references that in contemporary Tamil, it’s become a word for meat itself (needs confirmation from a native speaker).
But there is no doubt that the English word curry came from the Tamil kari, and that the British curry has Indian origins — if not the actual gravy, then definitely the spice mixes that make it so: the iconic curry powder2. Ironically, in India, there is no such thing as curry powder. There are tens of spice mixes that people use, in different states, for varied preparations. Also, there are different words for the kari like dishes, depending on where you are in India, and they aren’t bunched together in a one amorphous category, like it’s done in Britain. So while India may have invented curry, in most parts of India, if you were to ask for a curry, you’ll get a blank or confused stare.
A brief detour about black pepper reference earlier: it looks like the documented references of kari in Tamilian sources predate the arrival of the chilies in India by centuries. So the original Tamil kari was probably made with black pepper, in addition to ginger, garlic, and turmeric. I found a YouTube video that claims that before the Portuguese brought chilies to India, kari had migrated to Japan, through Tamils migrating to Japan, possibly via Korea (needs corroboration). Be it as it may, it’s clear that curry has had life before the chilies, too. There is also an interesting loof, if kari indeed meant black pepper in the past, as then curry got its name from an ingredient, and then ended up giving a name “kari patta” (the curry leaf — an aromatic leaf that is used extensively in India for many curry like dishes) to another ingredient.
Brief History of Japanese Curry
Anyway, so what is the story of Japanese curry? By most accounts, the British, and most likely the British Navy, were responsible for introducing the curry to Japan. There are competing stories, and we would leave it to food historians to settle that. But Japanese curry seems to have combined the British curry with techniques from French sauces (the use of deeply flavourful roux), and is closer to the classic Western stews in consistency and mouth feel than Indian or Indian inspired gravies (or even South East Asian curries). They are also sweetish (although you can increase the spice level to insane hotness in typical Japanese curry joints), and contain a mix of veggies and meat (or topped with meat cutlets). And then there is the final Japanese touch — the umami that comes from dashi. It’s probably what makes it uniquely Japanese.
In some ways, the Japanese curry is the perfect example of that proverbial “melting pot”. An Indian origin dish, spiced up thanks to the Portuguese bringing the spices to the continent, popularized by the British, with French stew influences, American influences bringing in veggies like potatoes/carrots, and the Japanese addition of dashi, making it one of the most multi-cultural dishes. To complete the circle, Japanese curry, which started with the British Navy’s contact with the Meiji era Japan, which opened its doors to the world after centuries of self-imposed isolation, eventually became the staple of the Japanese Imperial Navy, and is now popular back in England!
In the story of adoption and reinvention of the curry in Japanese culture, there are echoes of Japan’s confluence of the traditional Shinto religion with Buddhism, or the way a once insular Japan has now embraced many parts of Western culture, while rooted in its ancient culture. But even if you’re not interested in any of that, it’s hard to ignore that Japanese curry is a delicious fusion dish that caters to all, from vegans/vegetarians to omnivores. And with all the different influences that made it what it is at present, it is now a quintessentially Japanese dish, beloved throughout the country and beyond.
References/Further Reading:
Japanese Curry: A Curious Journey of Colonization and Globalization that led to Japan’s favourite dish —
The sounds a (अ) and au (औ) are the first and the last vowels of Sanskrit
In a sense, curry powder, although inspired by the Indian spice mixes that the British fell in love with India, tries to flatten a great variety of spice mixes, changing with region/caste or other contexts into a standardized spice mix. A point made well by Soph in This food in History: Curry!
Mainstream curry powders were a bastard version of what India offered while being colonized all up and down by Europe. They created a standard expectation of spices that ignores vital variations needed to account for dish properties.
Confirming that kari is meat in Tamil. Kozhi kari is chicken meat, etc. and interestingly kaikari, the standard word for vegetables, is just vegetable meat