Palmer’s Indian restaurant – And the interesting story behind it
During a trip to Gangarams in Bangalore many a decade ago, I
found the cookbook, Indian Cookery by E.P. Veerasawmy. Some of the recipes in it
were quickly mastered (the concept, that is) and became a staple in our kitchen.
I had always believed, that the author was a Tamilian, named EP Veeraswamy.
Later on in life, I passed by the Veerasawmy restaurant on many occasions while
living in the UK, and believed that the same Veeraswamy once owned that
restaurant. Recently, while studying the stories of Indians in the UK, I learned
that Veerasawmy was an Anglo-Indian named Edward Palmer. The EP in the name
stood for Edward Palmer and Veerasawmy was apparently, his alter ego. Note the
spelling of Veerasawmy, for we will get into that later.
After some research, I discovered that Edward Palmer was the
son of James Edward Palmer, an Anglo Indian, and initially read that his mother
was one Annie Vasooramal, an East Indian. Later on, Palmer’s granddaughter, who
I got in touch with, informed me that EP’s mother's name was Annie Ponnuswamy, the
daughter of a Mr. P Thomas. James and Annie got married in 1850 and Edward was
born in 1861, at Hyderabad, where his parents lived.
EP incidentally, belonged to the eminent ‘House of Palmers’ at
Hyderabad, which once owned a banking institution that had collapsed decades
before his birth. Now, one could argue at
length, about the Palmer bank mishap, if it was a result of the vindictive
actions of the English Resident Metcalfe or it was Palmer’s miscalculations and
wrongdoings. I will provide brief highlights of that story, if only to provide some
perspective and also to debunk a lot of false information, out in the internet
about EP and his origins.
The house of the Palmers was started by William Palmer ‘the
king’. William Palmer, was incidentally, the Eurasian son of General William
Palmer by his second wife, Faizunnissa Begum from the ruling family of the
Nawab of Oudh. If one were to disregard the varnished reporting of the EIC
residents at Hyderabad, and concentrate on contemporary studies on the Palmer
affair, they would get a better understanding of how Charles Metcalfe, an
autocratic EIC resident, manipulated rules to his company’s benefit. As such, then
current British rules did not permit money lending by Brits in EIC territory or
charging an interest rate greater than 12%. However, William Palmer was a
Eurasian or Anglo Indian and together with a Gujarati named Benkati Das (and
other English partners) advanced very large sums to the Nizam, much to the
alarm of the British EIC. Strictly speaking, the action was taking place in
Hyderabad, then not part of EIC territory, and Palmer did charge >12%
interest.
After a career fighting and winning battles for the Nizam,
Palmer settled to trade and banking but found a tough adversary in Metcalfe,
who did not like competition to his outfit, the EIC. Another white Mughal Kirkpatrick
was a good friend of his, so also William Hastings. Anyway, as matters
progressed, the loan balances to the Nizam became too high, and the bank was taken
to task and liquidated, and as a consequence, the Nizam had to trade the rich province
of Berar, to the British. Metcalfe had hated his secondary position to Palmer
in the Nizam’s eyes and was forever envious of the political power Palmer
possessed, undermining British EIC overlordship. Anyway, the bank failed from
Metcalfe’s manipulations, though the house of Palmers continued on and was
eventually cleared off all their debts, with Metcalfe’s departure.
Palmer tells us how he got to England - I can remember
being sent to England to study medicine and, in the intervals of my study,
looking down areas and watching bakers at work, staring into shops where
sausages and onions were being cooked, and often wishing that I could fry fish
and chips in the fish shops. In order to join up for medicine, he should
have completed his schooling in Hyderabad, and he must have been around 18
years old, so I would believe that he landed up in London circa 1870. But he
never got to study any medicine and I have not been able to figure out that part.
We can however see that he got married in 1884 and had six sons, from his first
wife. In total, he was apparently survived by 17 children through three wives
Lucy, Adelaide and Merry May.
EP proudly informs readers of his book, that should they
fail to get any major ingredient, they only needed to contact him at 15,
Clarendon Rd for his ‘Nizam’ branded pulses, spices and condiments. In the
book, he states that it was being published during the evening of his days (we
can see that in 1915, he was 55 years old).
From this point onwards, Palmer’s story of kept changing,
sometimes the handiwork of an enthusiastic reporter, sometimes through inputs
from future owners of the Veerasawmy’s restaurant. Some books mentioned that he
was a retired ex-serviceman from the British Indian army, others mentioned that
he was a doctor and some others even went on to highlight his royal connections,
e.g., that he was a direct descendant of the Nizam, etc.
Nevertheless, we can observe that Edward Palmer did move
around in the guise of EP Veerasawmy from Madras while instructing or
educating the public on Indian cooking. The name Edward Palmer would not have suited
the image of an Indian chef, and Palmer did have South Asian looks. When you
peruse his book, one would find a clear Tamil tilt to the recipes and names in
there, with support from Madras linguists and the book is stated to be the effort
of Palmer's alter ego - EP Veerasawmy, and there is no mention of any Edward
Palmer. In a later edition, EP Veerasawmy is qualified as ‘the world’s foremost
Indian Chef, who owns the famous Indian restaurant in London’. By way of
qualifications, the following can be seen below his name – Gold Medalist: Indian
Catering advisor to the Indian government, British Empire Exhibition, Wembley
1924-25. Founder of Veerasawmy and Co, Indian food specialists 1896, and of Veerasawmy’s
India restaurant, 1926-30. There is a mention in the Palmer’s history that
Edward served at the Ministry of munitions, but it must have been quite brief,
and details are hard to come by.
Let’s get back to EP’s forays into the cooking scene. We see
that he was conducting cooking classes for ladies, at Debenhams and Freebody on
Wigmore St, in 1898, i.e., after establishing a unit purveying spices and
condiments under the Nizam name. He also offered to provide private classes
advertising his services as a Ladies’ newspaper put it – Considering India
is part of Her Majesty’s dominions, we ought to be keenly interested in, and as
ready to adapt Indian as continental!
A report states - Ladies
shopping in the West End, who have lunched at Messrs. Debenham & Freebody's
in Wigmore Street (where there is a first-class restaurant for the convenience
of ladies shopping there), have much commented among themselves on the
excellence of the curry supplied. The truth is that these curries are cooked by
a first-class Indian chef, Mr.Veerasawmy, of Madras. At the end of January Mr.
Veerasawmy gave a demonstration of Indian cookery to which many ladies had sent
their cooks, many attending in person. Mr. Veerasawmy cooked a complete menu of
Indian dishes, and the audience had the opportunity of tasting the result. The
recipes were printed, to assist the audience in following the chef, who, clad
in a superb oriental coat of crimson brocade and snowy turban, proceeded deftly
with his task. His directions were clear and concise, expressed in excellent
English. A more delicious chicken curry I never tasted. Mr. Veerasawmy
deprecated the practice of cooking up cold meat and calling it a 'curry'. He
insisted that raw, good meat only could produce a genuine curry. Alack! Few
English cooks know what a curry is. ('Spinnings in Town', Myra's Journal, 1 March
1898: 11)
The 1901 Kind Edward’s cookery book provides testimony to
his ready mixes - Boiled rice is always served with a curry, either handed separately
on a folded napkin or forming a border round the dish on which the curry is
served. It is essential to use good curry-powder. Veerasawmy's curry-powder,
paste and chutney will be found excellent.
Wembley Indian exhibition, the turning point
Readers will take note that the writer of the official
report one Mr Vijayaraghava Acharya, who spells the company name as Veeraswami
and not Veeraswamy!! I must add here that most Veeraswamy’s in England and
France at that time spelled their name as Veerasawmy! That was the way Sawmy was
written, just as it is phonetically uttered in Tamil - Sami, not as
Swamy!! All the stuff later doled out in various sources as a printing error, a
twist to his mother’s name Veera etc were, I believe publicity connotations.
Veera was neither his grandmother nor was Sawmy misspelt. Perhaps his mother Annie
Ponnusawmy, fondly called him Veerasawmy, or as I feel, his full name may have
been Edward Palmer Veerasawmy!! I also felt that it is simply not possible to
call oneself Veerasawmy in public and in the press, for 30-40 years without
reason or basis. So, the name was perhaps not an alter ego, but what he grew up
with.
We read previously that EP taught Indian cooking at hotel
and restaurant kitchens, and to military cooks at the request of the late
General Lord French. Regarding the lessons at the military messes, we have to
resort to conjecture. Lizzy Collingham, in her “Curry – A tale of cooks and
conquerors’ mentions - In 1936 Edward Palmer, caterer to the Wembley
exhibition of 1924–1925 and founder of Veerasawmy’s Indian restaurant, was
invited to lecture to the army cooks at Aldershot on curry making. During the
Second World War trainee cooks in the army catering corps were taught how to
make curries by adding curry powder to a roux of flour and army stock books
show that cooks were allotted supplies of curry powder each month. Slightly
sweet yellow curries, dotted with raisins and made with fantastical fruits,
were still served in British army messes in the 1970s and 80s…
Veerasawmy’s was finally opened in 1926 and Edward Palmer managed
it for 4 to 6 years. It was not the first Indian restaurant, but was indeed the
first high-end restaurant, catering to the upper class of Britain. Palmer mentions
his disassociation from it around 1930, and we can also see that an MP William
Steward acquired it in 1932/34. In 1928, Veerasawmy had extended his
restaurant, and in 1933, yet another expansion and facelift were carried out. The
reviews were glowing. It was considered to be the place to dine for the higher
echelons of London society, as well as ex ICS and army blokes who had once
lived in India. Soon it became a place to visit and many Indian events were hosted
there.
Steward owned and ran it until 1967. Glowing reports stated
- Veerasawmy's, “India in London, "as it is known all over the world, is
the Mecca of all Epicures, while the owners exhorted - Don't stop here,
carry forward the good will of fellowship and unity by entertaining your friends
at Veerasawmy's, perfectly cooked Indian and English foods and irreproachable
service in luxurious surroundings. A newspaper announced grandly -Veeraswamy's
in Regent Street (London) conjured up a fantasmatic vision of imperial
opulence, where there were tiger skins on the wall, where punkahwallahs worked
the fans and where Indian doormen held umbrellas as customers returned. Most
people agreed that EP retained a colonial atmosphere, with fawning uniformed
waiters serving food suiting the palate of the fussy Englishman (The menu also
had a few British items, for those queasy about Oriental food).
It had an interesting décor, which got copied later in many
other Indian restaurants in the UK, with bright wallpaper, plates of Indian
scenery on the walls, real Indian punkahs (manual fans) and punkah wallahs. The
Indian waiters were attractively clothed in white with turbans and red sashes,
serving up an Oriental dream, to the diners who came in.
In 1930 - 34, after it was sold to William Steward, Edward
got down to academic pursuits, researching about his ancestry, writing about
the Sanad given to his great grandmother Faiz Baksh, studying the collapse of
his grandfather’s banking empire and what not. The Palmer family after William
Palmer’s death were still apparently owed £250,000 plus interest by the Nizam
and Edward Palmer, his grandson, our protagonist, tried to recover all or some
of it with his sister Emma, but it was to no avail.
So, that was the story of the dining haven which EP created,
and we are not going to go on with the subsequent owners of the restaurant,
suffice to state that it continues to this day as a pricey, high-end
destination in Central London, replete with a Michelin star - for those
desiring to munch on something Indian and relive some of India’s colonial past.
Now for some interesting trivia - I don’t think many of you will
know that an ex-president of Pakistan, Iskandar Mirza apparently worked as an
accountant at Veeraswamy, after fleeing Pakistan following a failed coup. Crime beat readers on the other hand may
recall the Veeraswamy knife case, where the murderer Backary Manneh who once worked
at the hotel was caught by Scotland yard, after he used a distinctive knife
stolen from Veeraswamy, to stab Joseph Aku in 1951. After the murder, Backary
Manneh ran off and was not found until after he went to the hospital with a
wound caused during the struggle. Clinching evidence was the ‘Veeraswamy knife’!
Many a dignitary graced the dining room at Veeraswamy’s and owners reel off
names such as Gandhi, Nehru, Indira Gandhi, Krishna Menon, The prince of Wales,
Winston Churchill, Charlie Chaplin Marlon Brando, Laurence Olivier, Vivian
Leigh, and the list can be replete with many of today’s stars.
These days, the restaurant scene in the UK is mediocre, and
most eating houses serve quickly conjured up concoctions based on standard curry pastes supplied by
third parties, boiled with a protein of your choice, dressed up, garnished,
and paired with rice or bread. Dals, Vindaloos, Kormas and Balti curries rule
the roost, while Chicken tikka masala reigns supreme. Thanks to a tale about a Danish
prince, beer got matched to Indian curries and so instead of wines, you have
choice Indian lagers to accompany curry!
That my friend was the story of an Anglo Indian with Tamil
origins, who left Indian shores to make his name in England, of his efforts at
establishing Indian cooking in London, of his pioneering cookery book and of the
establishment of Veerasawmy’s, a hotel which is one London’s premium culinary
establishments, to this day.
On a personal note, I must add that Veeraswamy’s egg curry (Undah ka Salun) featured on page 80 of that 1915 book, has graced our dining table for over three decades, though slightly modified by yours faithfully. My wife, children and many guests would testify to its fine quality!!
Thank you, Edward Palmer, or Veerasawmy, as you called yourself, so also your grandma Annie Ponnuswamy, for that. Rest in peace…
Indian Cookery – EP Veerasawmy
The Palmers of Hyderabad – Edward Palmer
Palmer and Company: An Indian Banking Firm in Hyderabad State - Karen Leonard (ModernAsianStudies 47, 4 (2013) pp. 1157–1184.© CambridgeUniversity Press 2013, doi:10.1017/S0026749X12000236 First published online 16 January 2013)
London 1900: The Imperial Metropolis - Jonathan Schneer
Armorial Families: A Directory of Gentlemen of Coat-armour - Arthur Charles Fox-Davies
Globalising Housework: Domestic Labour in Middle-class London Homes,1850-1914 - Laura Humphreys
Curry – A tale of cooks and conquerors – Lizzy Collingham
Report by the Commissioner for India for the British empire Exhibition – 1924
Star of India: The Spicy Adventures of Curry - Jo Monroe
Cannabis Nation: Control and Consumption in Britain, 1928-2008 - James H. Mills
Eating for Britain - Simon Majumdar
My thanks to Max Knudsen and Cilla (EP’s granddaughter) for their valuable inputs, also to Dr Karen Isaksen Leonard, historian and anthropologist, at the University of California, Irvine - the author of the referenced paper on the Palmer bank, for putting me in touch with the Palmer family.
And I learned two new words – Alack and fantasmatic!! The former
means ‘an expression of regret or dismay’ whereas the latter means ‘an illusory
likeness of something’.