Vegetable Dumb-osas

Spoiler alert: Mine don't turn out like this.

Image from PKU Recipes, which has a recipe for samosas that sounds manageable. Ugh.

So my boyfriend’s been in kind of an Indian mood lately – which is fine by me, I love Indian cuisine. The other day, though, we started thinking: for what we’d spend on ordering Indian, we could probably make it. (And when I say, “we,” what I really mean is, “he.”)

Sunday turned out to be Indian Food Day in our house.

I did not go into this experience with the right mindset. I know that now. What I wanted to do was nap, maybe play a little Tetris, and let him work his culinary magic solo. But that turned into, “hey, honey, why don’t you come keep me company?” and that turned into, “want to mix up the dough for these samosas?” and that turned into, “want to make the samosas?”

The things we do for love, right?

Not only was I (more or less) conned into making them, I had possibly the WORST RECIPE IN THE WORLD guiding me. I’m at a Samosas 101 level. This recipe, I’m pretty sure, is for people who already know what they’re doing and just need a reminder about the order. Or a good laugh at someone else’s expense (ie, mine).

Some ranting and photos after the jump.

Here’s what I had to work with:

For Cover:

1 cup all purpose flour (Maida)
Water to Knead dough
2 tbsp oil
Little salt
1/4th tsp Ajwain (optional)

  • Mix all the ingredients (salt, oil, ajwain) except water. (TLK in: notice you don’t have to mix in the flour! jeez!)
  • Add a little water at a time.
  • Pat and knead well for several times into a soft pliable dough.
  • Cover it with moist Muslin cloth and keep aside for 15 minutes.

I just kept thinking: how much water? is this enough water? how do I know when it’s enough water? And meanwhile I’m slowly getting covered in sticky dough and flour. Thank goodness for those 15 minutes because I needed to regroup. (And I’m sure I didn’t add enough water.)

My boyfriend was nice enough to mix the samosa filling for me, so all I had to do was worry about stuffing them. Which, by the way, is REALLY REALLY HARD.

The directions say:

To Proceed:

  • Make small rolls of dough and roll it into a 4″ – 5″ diameter circle.
  • Cut it into two parts like semi-circle.
  • Now take one semi circle and fold it like a cone. Use water while doing so.
  • Place a spoon of filling in the cone and seal the third side using a drop of water.
  • Heat oil in a kadhai and deep fry until golden brown.

AGAIN WITH THE WATER. How does one “use water while doing so,” anyway? And seal with ONE DROP? Yeah right.

Let me summarize: this recipe sucks and I hate samosas.

I bumbled through the rolling and coning and stuffing and sealing process. I guess I just sort of made it up as I went along, splashing water everywhere, getting flour on everything, smashing the dough around in the my hands like I could show it who was boss through brute force. (Unsuccessfully.)


Finally I had nine lop-sided, lumpy, ugly samosas ready to be fried. I also had flour all down my front and a flour-water clay drying on my hands. And a huge mess all over my workspace.


I left the boyfriend handle the frying so I could chip the dough off my fingers, the rolling pin, the table, etc. It seemed a little too much to hover over the frying pan cackling about the misfortune of those evil little cones – but I considered doing it, just the same!

I think it's good and dead.

While I fretted and griped over those stupid samosas, the boyfriend made channa masala (delish), chicken curry (double delish) and basmati rice (triple delish). We also had some garlic naan that he didn’t make, but he did buy it from the Indian grocery, so I’m giving him credit for it just the same.

The samosas, I thought, were the worst part of the meal. That stinks as far as my delusions of being a contributing member of our relationship goes, but it also helps to reinforce my belief that the kitchen is his domain.

I have learned that samosas are a lot of work and are better made by somebody else – like my boyfriend. Or a professional. Or anyone who is not me.

…Preferably while I nap.


1 Comment »

  1. […] me and Joe (mostly Joe) made Indian for dinner and I don’t want to talk about it. Ugh. […]

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