Bringing Indian food to North America—Origins of Daughter of a Restauranteur

In loving memory of my grandparents Peter & Rani.

The year is 1957 and my grandparents have moved to Canada from India in pursuit of a life of opportunity and privilege to support their three children. I take a moment to consider this in present day since I’ve moved around a lot over the last ten years and somehow haven’t taken a moment to properly think about how my feats, while noteworthy and interesting— are nothing compared to those of a couple in the late ‘50s who uprooted their family to a place where they had to re-establish community, ambition, and family. It’s not like the internet was even a thing at that point in time, and building a life abroad without it now feels impossible.

Cut to 1964—My grandfather Peter notices that Montreal, a city buzzing with promise doesn’t yet have an Indian food restaurant…like at all. Consider craving something so specific from your home only to be unable to find it let alone replicate it. It feels like torture! Bearing in mind that at this point, technology hasn’t yet enabled the accessibility to ingredients and spices you need to create authentic Indian food. Mind-blowing to think about now given how embedded technology is to our every day life. Suffice to say, my grandfather was craving authentic Indian food in 1964 and couldn’t find it anywhere. Not only couldn’t he find it, he came to the jarring realization that most people he encountered in Montreal hadn’t even heard of the food he missed from his home.

He thought to himself if it doesn’t exist, build it. That’s when he set out to build, design, and create Montreal, and Quebec’s first Indian Restaurant titled Neera Swami which would later evolve to his more notable venture: Maharaja. Nestled on Drummond street right below buzzing Sherbrooke— unbeknownst to my grandparents, they set up shop in what is now considered prime downtown real estate. Positioned right next to The Ritz Carlton hotel, Maharaja wasn’t just any Indian Restaurant, my grandparents after all were people of style, dignity and impeccable taste.

That’s why they’d impose a dress code: men had to be in suit jackets in order to walk in. This establishment was one that executed my grandfathers vision of being equal parts posh, authentic, and hospitable. However as time progressed, he ran in to two key issues for any restauranteur: a lack of staffing, and patrons. While dignified, he was also incredibly resourceful and would note how the dishwashers, chefs, and line cooks from The Ritz would sneak into the alley way separating Maharaja from the classic hotel. Initially this bothered him—who are these bloody people sneaking a bloody cigarette break in the middle of the day? He’d think to himself.

Yet the answer to his staffing issue was staring him in the face. One day he walked over and poached all the hotel staff from The Ritz promising better working conditions and an education in authentic Indian cooking. To his delight, many accepted his offer and began working at Maharaja. Many years later, one of his staffers went on to open Montreal’s classic Le Taj just a few blocks away.

That’s one obstacle down, he thought as he considered more ideas to fill the restaurant and win over the trust and support from the local community. Montreal had certainly welcomed their arrival, but at this point in time the city was rife with social and political unrest due to the ongoing (and continued) culture war between French Canadians and Anglophones, an all-too easy crossfire for a family from abroad to fall into. Yet my grandfather was never one to dwell on conflict, always edging more towards the resolution of peace over anguish. He kept thinking and realized if he was to fill the restaurant with patrons he’d have to educate them about Indian culture, geography, spices, and food rather than simply becoming a destination to dine. My grandfather was also deeply spiritual turning to his daily meditation and Kriya yoga practice to support his decisions, follow his instincts and maintain a level of nobility and peace in his life.

In this practice he met a man who was a palm reader. As Hindus we’re not necessarily shy or affronted when it comes to practices like astrology, palm reading, or anything that has since been rebranded to new-age spirituality. In the late ‘60s the Beatles had also played a significant role in westernizing practices like meditation, yoga, and other aspects of Indian culture. So my grandfather decided it was prime time to integrate some of these ideas to the restaurant to entice more people to come in. Out on the side walk he placed a sandwich board labelled “Palm Readings available” figuring people would get a kick out of getting their palm read over lunch or dinner.

Turns out he was right. Maharaja became one of the busiest places on Drummond street with a line up out the door. In fact, word got around so fast that Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau booked a table and a time slot to have his palm read as well! The restaurant went on to be a-buzz exposing people to Indian culture, food, and community. It also became the foundation for which my grandparents built other ventures and established deep connections to the city I grew up in. In times where I wonder if I will stay in Montreal or move again, I find myself thinking about their journey and the ways in which the world has since changed. Not for good or bad, more to gain a sense of perspective in understanding about where my thoughts and ideas come from.

Every once in a while my father and I will talk about my grandparents and he’ll bring up the story of Maharaja and how my grandparents taught us many lessons. Among them is the importance of food but more so: the importance of cooking and gathering with people you care about. Meals as they saw it are not moments of productivity, they’re moments to be enjoyed. I think about this a lot in the wake of people talking about intermittent fasting, yogurt tubes, delivery apps, taking their coffee to-go and other fast paced ways we’ve re-purposed our food. While on occasion these things are helpful and practical, I do wonder how they’ve shaped food culture and what that will mean for generations to come.

To be frank and honest, I think that’s why I align so much with Europeans. Because slowing down is so embedded in the culture, enjoying your food and the company you keep is one of the most important parts of life, and perhaps that is the point really: to create beautiful delicious things and surround yourself with people you care about. I never really understood why we thought it would be a good idea in North America to impose shorter moments of eating and gathering (cough capitalism cough) and I think that’s why I love creating this project so much. It’s a forced change from the usual. An ability to connect with people who remind me of my own family and the joy they exude and receive from creating hospitable moments for others.

Granted, this is a slight deviation from our regularly scheduled programming here on Daughter of a Restaurateur, so I appreciate you if you’ve made it this far.

Back to interviewing next week and in the meantime—bon appetit!

xx

Erika