Samosas

It’s been a very “off” season of both cooking and eating for me. Not the way I wanted to end this busy year of being engaged, getting married, traveling overseas, and changing jobs. But as is so often the case, God had plans for me that I didn’t expect. Shortly after we arrived home from our delayed honeymoon in Kenya, I discovered I was pregnant. Am pregnant, I should say.

What followed was three months of all-day nausea coupled with zero desire to have anything to do with making food. I could eat – had to eat at prompt intervals, in fact, to stave off more intense nausea brought on by an empty stomach – but my appetite was alien. In fact, I have some confessions to make here. During that evil first trimester, I ate Taco Bell. And McDonald’s. And several other forms of fast food and junk food that hadn’t entered my body regularly for a decade.

On top of this very sudden and strange affinity for fast food was an equally strange anathema for trying anything new. I didn’t open a single cookbook, I don’t think, for the duration of those twelve weeks.

Thank goodness it’s finally over, and spending time in the kitchen is once again a welcome habit. I have a whole library of posts to send your way, and I want to begin again with something really special, something I came to love during those two amazing weeks I spent in Kenya with Eli.

I’ve heard people say that Africa gets under your skin, and I never quite understood that. I know what it’s like to travel and fall in love with a place – a summer of backpacking around Europe taught me that – but there is something different about falling in love with Africa. It isn’t the same kind of falling in love that happens when you first encounter the tree-lined boulevards of Paris at twilight, or the rolling, sunflower-bedecked hillsides of Tuscany. I can’t describe it. It is a deeper, richer, almost painful kind of falling in love, because it doesn’t just have to do with landscape or architecture or history. It is a combination of scenery and people and culture and poverty and the untamed wildness of the bush that mix together to deliver this whole other kind of beauty. In Africa, there is the sense that life is truly lived at the very edge. This is something you can’t possibly know – and I mean really know, like with your soul – if you have never traveled further than the U.S. or Europe.

We flew into Nairobi late on September 20, exhausted and travel-worn and with sleep way overdue. I remember the drive through the city to our hotel, with the breeze through the car windows and its sweet, green humidity, and the sounds of palm leaves rustling. We showered gratefully and slept fitfully, victims of jet lag, awakening to find that our driver had arrived early. We scrambled to ready ourselves for another day of travel, this one by Land Rover across the hills and plains of Kenya.

Our hotel catered to an international business clientele, and the sizable breakfast buffet was completely European in nature. I remember feeling a mixture of disappointment (I was excited to experience African food) and relief (it was comforting to fill my plate with familiar items like croissants and yogurt that morning, when I was still tired from the journey).

My first real taste of African cuisine came later that first afternoon, on our way to the Masai Mara National Reserve in southwestern Kenya. We stopped for gas and a snack in a large-ish transportation hub called Narok with our guide, James, a native Kikuyu and owner of the self-drive safari company we had hired. We each ordered a plate of samosas, and ate them outdoors in the restaurant’s gardens, shaded from the intense afternoon sun by a wooden canopy. The samosas were delicious – hot and fresh, served with a ketchup-like sauce that Eli remembered from his childhood in Zaire. I savored every bite.

Samosas are small, triangular pockets of pastry filled with meat, vegetables, and seasonings, then fried golden and crispy. They are really Indian in origin, but East African cuisine is rife with the influence of India, its nearest non-African neighbor. The Kenyan cities of Nairobi and Mombasa have large Indian populations, partly due to Kenya’s former tenure as a British colony, and a great deal of trade goes on between the two countries. Unless you are out in the bush having dinner in a remote Masai village, it’s hard to escape a bit of India.

You can make samosas with puff pastry or phyllo dough, but I’ve found that the easiest option is to use fresh wonton wrappers. They are already the right size, and make assembly quick and simple. There’s no messing with multiple layers of pastry dough.

If you’re a vegetarian, you can substitute potatoes for the ground beef. And of course, you could certainly add additional vegetables if you wish. It’s really the seasonings that matter. Of course, I use venison instead of ground beef in mine.

This recipe makes a large number of samosas – perfect for a party, if you don’t mind standing at the stove frying them for your guests. They are best served fresh from the pan or deep fryer, so are not a good choice for a make-ahead menu, although you can certainly make the filling ahead of time, and just do the assembly and frying on the spot. I promise they are worth the last-minute effort.

Samosas


2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 teaspoon whole cumin seeds
1 bay leaf, crushed
1 large sweet yellow onion, diced
1 pound very lean ground beef or venison
4 cloves minced garlic
1 tablespoon grated ginger root
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1-1/2 teaspoons sea salt
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1 teaspoon ground turmeric
1 teaspoon chili powder
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom
1 small can chopped green chiles
1 cup fresh or frozen green peas (without the pods)
2 tablespoons chopped fresh cilantro
1 package fresh won ton wrappers (from the cooler section of your market)
Non-GMO canola oil for frying

In a large saucepan over medium-high heat, heat the olive oil. Brown the cumin seeds and bay leaf, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon or spatula to prevent scorching, 2-3 minutes.

Add the diced onion and ground meat, and cook until the meat is fully browned and the onions are soft. Pour off any excess fat.

Stir in the garlic, ginger, pepper, salt, cumin, coriander, turmeric, chili powder, cinnamon, cardamom, and green chiles. Cook and stir until the flavors have melded, about 5 minutes.

Stir in the green chiles.

Add the peas and cilantro, and cook until heated through, another minute or so. Remove from heat.

In a deep saucepan, heat 3-4 inches of oil over medium heat until hot but not smoking. Or fill a deep fryer with oil per the manufacturer’s instructions.

Set up an assembly line: the meat filling, wonton wrappers, and a small dish of water to help seal the samosas closed before frying.

Working one samosa at a time, place a teaspoonful of filling in the center of a won ton wrapper. Wet your index finger in the water, and run it along two of the four sides of the wrapper.

Fold the wrapper in half around the filling, so that the two wet sides meet the two dry sides. Press lightly to seal.

Place gently in the hot oil. Fry 1-2 minutes, then use a pair of tongs to flip the samosa and fry the other side.

Remove to a platter lined with paper towels to cool briefly.

I serve these with Peptang tomato sauce, which is a sort of Kenyan ketchup we brought home from our trip in bulk specifically to have with samosas (I brought home an entire duffel bag of foodstuffs from Nairobi – go ahead and laugh).

Since Peptang isn’t available here in the U.S. and there really isn’t a substitute for it, I suggest mild chili sauce or plain tomato sauce mixed with a little sugar. I think the flavor of American ketchup might overwhelm the delicate flavor balance of the samosas, but you could certainly try that as well.

 For a printable version of this recipe, click here.