At Kalibangan in Rajasthan, in houses that stood before the Harappan cities, the courtyards held tandoors, some above ground and some sunk into it, set in the north-western corner because the wind there comes from the north-east for most of the year. They vanish from the record of the period that followed, which the excavator called an enigma. The oven's name is older than the languages that use it: Hindustani tandur from Persian tanur from Akkadian tinuru.
The names on the jars are each a piece of history. Vindaloo is vinha d'alhos, wine and garlic, a Portuguese pot rebuilt in Goa with palm vinegar and the chillies growing there by 1528; the potatoes some versions carry came from a confusion with the Hindi word aloo. Rogan josh is Persian, rogan for the fat and josh for the braise, a dish the Mughals brought north in the sixteenth century and flavoured with the herbs of Kashmir, where the court summered. Madras is the old name of the city that has been Chennai since 1996, and the hot powder sold under it was an Anglo-Indian invention.
Garam masala means warm spices, and the warmth is not chilli heat. Masala came into Hindustani from Persian, where it meant materials. There is no single recipe: eastern India and Bangladesh keep a lean one of cardamom, cinnamon and clove, and every household has its own. The spices are roasted and ground, and the blend goes in near the end, because the heat that cooks the dish drives the aroma off.
Cumin Seed, Whole and Mustard Seeds, Brown are for the start of the pan. Madras Curry Powder and Vindaloo Curry Powder build the middle, Kashmiri Saffron Curry is the gentle end, and Tandoori Masala is the dry half of a yoghurt marinade. Garam Masala goes in last, off the heat. Cinnamon, Ground, Sri Lankan True Ceylon, Organic is the floral cinnamon, not the fiery one.
