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“Suddenly momos were dropping out of the tandoor, I was among the first ones to take a bite of it…”

The Momo Spice Route

By Payel Majumdar

Join us on this whimsical journey of the Momo across the world, sharing some real and some fictional accounts of the exotic fillings and the delicate wrappings. Explore the Momo  – the perfect comfort food with us in its numerous avatars.

Far, far away in the time-space continuum, China had started a roaring export business in the F-n-B industry, several years ahead of India. (Centuries ahead of when Indian cuisine became synonymous with “Curry” in the West.) The humble dumpling – the Chinese Baozi, the Nepalese Momo or the Japanese Gyoza, whichever form you’re familiar with – very much like Kafka’s Samsa, metamorphosized a hundred times over in the next few centuries. In the hands of Turkish merchants, it changed colours (and chutneys), who carried it to the West of the Orient, while the Mongols took it back with them to celebrate Mongolian New Year. (Things haven’t changed much since then, we hear.) Meanwhile the Kazaks were dropping them in their gravies like nobody’s business, and the Slavaks were not shy of a bite of it or two in the biting cold winds of Asia Minor. Momo was hot news, changing avatars faster than a faux Birkin bag in South East Asian flea markets.

For we have an affinity towards cultural appropriation, ahem reinvention, the Chinese Baozi-turned -Nepali momos further changed hands when they came in contact with the Punjabi tadka, once Dilli wasn’t very far, and up and behold!  In a tiny shop in Satya Niketan close to the South Campus of Delhi University, in front of the very eyes of hungry college kids, Tandoori momos were born.

“I couldn’t believe my eyes, it all happened so fast,” one witness from December 3, 1982  told us. “It was very chilly, and hunger had clouded our senses, when suddenly momos were dropping out of the tandoor, I was among the first ones to take a bite of it…”

“That is the only thing I missed when I moved to New York” one patriotic foodie told us, overwhelmed. “I mean, what is with the soy dipped dim-sum things they keep serving as an excuse for it?”

While the momo has for some unexplained reason become a symbol of food found in the Seven Sisters in our Far East (while this could not be further from the truth, to cater to the demanding tourists, a few stalls serving momos have opened up over there since then). Hill stations were the next to succumb, since the erstwhile Indian tourist harbouring romanticized (if misplaced) ideas of hill stations could not take the disappointment of not having momos whether they travelled to the Kumaon ranges or the Sahyadris.

One can only guess whether the modak had the momo as its fiery grandparent, or if that was all aamchi ingenuity. But this self-sustaining super food (don’t let the gluten nazis tell you otherwise, pretty) made its inroads into India thick and fast from the Chinese breakfast in Kolkata’s China Town to the bylanes of Delhi. So much so, that when the recent government came to power, plates upon plates of paneer momos vanished into the ruling party’s headquarters. Psst… there has been some hearsay about how the current Chief Minister refuses to move from his residence in Kaushambi, for no one makes momo chutney like Raju the momo stall owner in the Vaishali market in Delhi. Add to that twelve momos for thirty bucks (that’s right Lajpat Nagar momo fans, take that). Does it get more aam aadmi than that? So much so, that in a moment (helped along by said Raju’s mind-blowing chutney and soft-as-pillows momos) it was contemplated whether the momo should be the rightful AAP symbol for the upcoming elections. It is reported that this star-of-a-food-invention lost by ONE vote. Because every vote counts, and so does every steaming plate of momos.

And to go all Master-Cheffy on momos, here are some variations to the beloved dumpling we would like to get our hands on:

1. To honour the Greek god for writers of satire, (who was called MOMOS incidentally) we think a Mediterranean reinvention is in order. Some quail filled dumplings in an ouzo spiked broth, whaddya reckon?

2. A bangers and mash filling, in leek-potato soup, served with some chilli relish for that dreary afternoon?

3. Lemon soup, with chicken dumplings, for when our soul needs some warming. Nom Nom.

-Long Pause of drool-y wonder-

4. Ooh ooh, fruit filled fried momos with Mexican mole (chilli chocolate) sauce.

5. A Tom-Yum broth twist to crab stuffed momos.

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