When I was growing up I held the record for most tacos eaten at a single setting. I was 14-years-old, weighed maybe 45 kilograms dripping wet and could comfortably scarf 10 of those babies fully loaded in a single sitting.
Among my friends, as far as I know, my record still stands.
But what’s more interesting to me than my undefeated taco record is that a dish so unrelated to Anglo-Australian culinary culture has been known in the majority of Australian homes for the better part of 20 years.
Courtesy of Old El Paso and our love for crunchy tacos, we as a nation have jointly turned this Aussie version of a in to a non-denominational culinary staple. Which is to say, to have tacos for dinner is as natural a decision as it is to cook roast lamb. Or spaghetti: another classic that’s broken free of its cultural origins to become as ‘Strayan as barbecued snags.
So stay with me, here, when I tell you that the next dish looking to call Australia home is the humble Indian staple… dahl (or dal).
When I was growing up my Australian grandmother’s kitchen notebook – like many of her generation – contained a recipe for sausage, banana and sultana curry. That her daughter (my Mum) would grow up to marry an Indian and learn to wield spice like a goddess is, if not an irony, then at least a bloody humorous twist in the tale.
But it’s also telling of where dahl in Australia is heading – out of exoticism and in to those now-updated kitchen notebooks.
“I think people are getting more educated on how to use spices,” muses , the master chef behind Melbourne’s , a restaurant renowned for its almost one-of-a-kind approach to cooking modern Indian from Australia’s best produce, and another of the city's hottest eateries, . “People are excited, their tastebuds are excited by the chillies and the spices, by the aromatics of Asia in general.”
Dahl is not only a simple playground in which to experiment with these new flavours, but also an accessible one; the base of lentils makes it familiar for those used to slow-cooking winter soups while dahl’s light spicing makes it kid-friendly – a big determinant if a dish is to go truly viral.
“We don’t put that much spice in our dahl,” D’Sylva echoes. “There might be mustard seeds and Kashmiri chilli and ginger and garlic.”
The reasons our kitchen notebooks are all tuning to this particular dahl update owes to a cultural and culinary confluence of events.
On the one hand we have the rise and rise of and knowledge of the important part fibrous proteins such as lentils play in maintaining a vibrant gut ecosystem, combining with an explosion of sexy clean eating advocates for whom .
And on the other? An of permanently migrating Indians meeting head-to-head with a nation of eaters who are always curious to take on whatever delicious new taste is on offer.
This bowl is topped with aromatic spiced caramelised onions.
The food offered to homeless communities should have a cultural connection, too. Source: Murdoch Books
Dahl is the number one recipe I get asked to translate. It is the dish non-Indians within my circle feel most comfortable taking on, in the same way that we mightn’t all tackle homemade ravioli but few of us non-Italians shy from the task of piecing together a lasagne.
In each culture there will be at least one dish that transcends cultural boundaries partly because it is so delicious, but also because it feels simple – we can cook it comfortably even while existing on the cultural outer and still have it turn out beautifully. Think over kibbeh, or over .
If you’re not yet on the dahl bandwagon, then you might want to hitch a ride. Not just because "everyone" else is cooking lentils into soupy, spicy submission, but because the results are delicious. And easy.
Lentils. Ghee. Cumin seed. Fresh ginger. Salt. Kashmiri chilli. Turmeric. Fresh coriander. Add them to your 2017 shopping list. Dahl is the new tacos. Pull out the slow cooker and get cracking.
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