Samosas — do NOT try this at home
… or in Rome or in the mall or down the hall. Well, don’t let me tell you what to do, but I would advise against making these samosas. They are incredibly labor intensive and have only mediocre results, imo. So, if you like working your keister off for not much in return (I think we call those people masochists), then by all means, go for it.
A samosa, if you’re unfamiliar, is a pocket of dough stuffed with filling and is a staple in Indian cuisine. I like them well enough in general. I had originally planned on making these for a group dinner. I figured I’d make the mini-variety as a finger-food for the gang. I dawdled too much during the afternoon and didn’t have time to actually make them in time to leave for my friends’ house, so I settled on bringing a springtime dip instead. But since I had the ingredients for the samosas, I made them the following day. It took me probably twice as long to make them as I had anticipated. The filling is simple enough – and very tasty, might I add. Mustard and cumin seeds are first heated in some oil, followed by a sauté of onions, carrots, garlic, ginger, coriander, turmeric and cayenne. Previously cooked russet potatoes are mashed in with the mix and edamame (green peas can be substituted) are added along with some lemon juice and salt. I would make this filling again and serve it as a side dish. It really is a wonderful mix of flavors and colors. What followed though is what leads me to my original warning.
The samosa dough is also really tasty and I must admit that I nibbled on it in its raw form while assembling the pockets. The recipe instructs to preheat the oven and “meanwhile, prepare the dough.” By the time I was ready to put the samosas in the pre-heated oven, I could have baked five loaves of bread successively. OK, I exaggerate a bit, but suffice it to say, that oven was WELL heated by time the samosas found their way to the oven racks. The dough is simple enough but must be kneeded for about 10 minutes before rolling it out thinly and cut into circles. For mini-samosas, the circles need to be cut in half, formed into a cone, stuffed with the potato filling and sealed. Larger samosas are a little easier to stuff and seal. I made both mini and full-size versions. While the samosas baked I prepared the “chutney” which I put in quotes because I’m not sure how a mixture of coconut milk, herbs, maple syryp, lime juice, garlic and salt qualifies as a chutney, but that’s what the recipe called for.
So, about 2 hours after I peeled the first potato for the filling, I finally sat down and sampled the product of my efforts. I’ve gotta say, the whole thing was just sort of “eh.” So-so, así-así, comme-ci, comme ça – you get the picture. I think I’d prefer a chutney with more substance to it, perhaps a chunky mango chutney. These are probably best as part of a whole Indian smorgasbord, but seeing as there are only so many hours in a day and I only have 2 hands (if I were an Indian god, I’d be able to cook a feast in no time, I’m sure!) I only made the samosas. I will say that I have a new-founded respect for those Indian cooks and chefs out there!
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