An­ge­lo Bisses­sars­ingh

Any­one from T&T who has dined on au­then­tic In­di­an dish­es, im­me­di­ate­ly re­alis­es that In­do-Trinida­di­an cook­ing is a Caribbean ex­pe­ri­ence all on its own and owes as much to its evo­lu­tion in the west as its ori­gins in the east. Short­ly af­ter the ar­rival of In­di­an In­den­tured Im­mi­grants as a source of cheap, re­li­able labour, Trinidad's Colo­nial Gov­ern­ment, un­der Lord Har­ris (1846-54), re­alised that the new­com­ers had by ne­ces­si­ty, to be fed on food that they were ac­cus­tomed to in In­dia or else they would suf­fer mal­nu­tri­tion.

Thus, large quan­ti­ties of food­stuff be­gan ar­riv­ing in the colony. Pad­dy rice (Trinidad was al­ready fa­mil­iar with cre­ole hill rice or red rice, grown by ex-Amer­i­can black sol­diers of the Com­pa­ny Vil­lages), split peas (dhal), ghee, and cur­ry spices, all orig­i­nal­ly sourced ex­clu­sive­ly for the In­di­ans, be­gan to find their way in­to shops and soon formed a foun­da­tion­al part of the na­tion­al cui­sine.

For new In­do-Trinida­di­ans, the com­mis­sary of their as­signed es­tates was sup­posed to sup­ply them with food ra­tions and cloth­ing for the first year of their five-year con­tract. This manda­to­ry reg­u­la­tion was of­ten ig­nored, and some un­scrupu­lous planters even de­duct­ed the cost of the ra­tions from the pit­tance paid to the In­di­ans. Strict­ly speak­ing, the stan­dard al­lowance was as fol­lowed: For every male over 18 years of age per month: 45lbs of rice, 9lbs dhal, 1/4 gal­lon ghee or co­conut oil, 1 1/2 lbs salt, 6 lbs salt­fish, 2 lbs onions and chill­i­est. Women and chil­dren re­ceived half the ra­tions of men.

At the de­pot for in­com­ing In­di­ans (up to 1917) at Nel­son Is­land, pro­vi­sions for the tran­sients con­sist­ed of rice, pump­kin, fresh­ly-slaugh­tered mut­ton, and cha­p­at­tis. Most es­tates al­lowed the In­di­ans pro­vi­sion grounds to sup­ple­ment the ra­tions. Where gar­den plots were al­lot­ted, and on small home­steads af­ter their con­tracts ex­pired, the im­mi­grants grew an abun­dance of food, which by the 1880s had made them the pri­ma­ry source of veg­eta­bles, root crops and milk in the is­land.

Man­goes were a key in­gre­di­ent, orig­i­nat­ing of course in In­dia, as were sev­er­al va­ri­eties of squash, in­clud­ing jhingee and lowkie. By in­fus­ing the bare in­gre­di­ents of the com­mis­sari­at is­sue with cur­ry and adding the boun­ty of the veg­etable gar­dens, whole­some talka­rees were cre­at­ed.

These were large­ly en­joyed on­ly by the In­do-Trinida­di­an com­mu­ni­ty as good, hearty peas­ant fare un­til the ad­vent of the roti-shop in the 1940s. With the com­ing of thou­sands of Amer­i­can sol­diers to the army and air­force bases on the is­land, roti and cur­ry found a new and en­thu­si­as­tic con­nois­seur.

Per­haps the great­est ex­am­ple of cul­tur­al fu­sion and the flag­ship of In­do-Trinida­di­an food is the ubiq­ui­tous dou­bles, which was born in the 1940s when an en­ter­pris­ing ven­dor named Mr Ali com­bined cur­ried chick­peas (chan­na) with two fried dough slices (bara) and gave Trinidad and To­ba­go its sta­ple fast food.

To­day, roti, dou­bles and oth­er In­do-Tri­ni fare has spread to Eu­rope and Amer­i­ca through the di­as­po­ra, and re­mains as wild­ly pop­u­lar as ever.