ATLANTA — Like a friendly drill sergeant, Raghavan Iyer was not going to pretend that making the spice mix he was about to teach 13 Emory University cafeteria cooks how to prepare was easy.
“It seems like a very simple technique, but I guarantee you some of you will screw it up,” he said. “But that’s O.K. Try it again. You will be happy when you create a response from an Indian student who says, ‘This reminds me of my mother’s.’”
A masala is simply a mixture of ground spices. Each state in India has its own blend, and there are countless variations of each. The sambhar masala he was teaching the chefs at Emory is one of thousands of versions of a spice mix from southern India. It gives flavor, heat and texture to sambhar, the region’s ubiquitous vegetable stew. Mr. Iyer learned it from his grandmother, and it is the taste that most reminds him of home.
Through books, videos and classes, Mr. Iyer has made a career of demystifying Indian cooking for both American home cooks without Indian roots and for institutions like corporate and college cafeterias. As of late, with renewed attention on cultural awareness in institutional kitchens, teaching the proper way to prepare and serve a dish from another country is increasingly valuable.
Mr. Iyer, who only learned how to cook Indian cuisine after immigrating to the United States from Mumbai nearly 35 years ago, has written several books on the subject. His first, “Betty Crocker’s Indian Home Cooking,” was published in 2001 and remains a well-respected guide for cooks with little knowledge of Indian cooking. His latest, on potatoes, is due in the fall from Workman Publishing.
“The spices are the beauty of Indian food, and through them you can learn the beauty of India,” he told the cooks at Emory, explaining that a simple cumin seed can have several different flavors. Raw, it tastes one way. Roasted in oil and used whole, it tastes another. Grind the seed and then roast it, and it changes yet again. It goes on and on.
That kind of subtlety is a stretch for many American cooks.
“The perception is ‘My God, when I come to spices, I freeze,’” Mr. Iyer said.
Spice mixes like his masalas are essential for cooks trying to make culturally accurate and tasty food in what is called the captive dining segment – that is, stadiums, corporations, colleges and other places where diners don’t have much of a choice.
Increasingly, it can be a politically charged proposition. Bon Appétit Management Company, which hired Mr. Iyer to teach the Emory cooks, came under fire from students at Oberlin College in December for “blurring the line between culinary diversity and cultural appropriation by modifying the recipes without respect for certain Asian countries’ cuisines,” according to the student newspaper.
To wit, bad sushi and a pulled-pork sandwich on ciabatta bread that was called a banh mi.
Mr. Iyer, who lives in Minneapolis, has done more than 75 cooking classes for Bon Appétit. The food-service company runs 650 cafes in 31 states for clients such as Google, the Art Institute of Chicago and more than 100 universities.
The issue at Oberlin, he said, may have been as much about flavor as about insensitivity. What they called a banh mi may have been a decent sandwich, but it should have been called something else.
“It is important to get it right, and you must like what you are serving or it shouldn’t be served,” he said. “But there is still some room to interpret.”
That’s what a spice mix like his sambhar masala allows cooks in a college cafeteria and at home to do. Once you have the spice mix perfected, it can be used to bring together a quick curry with shrimp and coconut milk, sprinkled over roasted vegetables or rubbed onto meat headed for the grill. Mr. Iyer even likes a couple of teaspoons of it stirred into mashed potatoes with clarified butter.
The trickiest part is getting the eight spices and the yellow split peas called for in the recipe. Fresh curry leaves, still shiny green and pliable, are the biggest challenge. A trip to an Indian or international market may be necessary, although they can be ordered online.
Their distinct, almost anise-like aroma makes a big difference in the mix, but one could leave them out. In fact, you could personalize the mix to your taste, as millions of Indian home cooks do.
“There are as many masalas,” he said, “as there are Indian housewives.”