Potoler Dolma & the Armenian Origins of a Beloved Bengali Recipe

Dolma, dolmeh, dorma — this is a dish that tells the story of migration, one that finds delicious expression in Bengal as the potoler dorma. Satarupa Mitra traces the journey of this dish and its many delicious avatars.

On a summer afternoon in 1990, sitting on the floor of a moderately large kitchen, my back against the wall, I watched my 70-something diduma stuff fish paste into a hollowed-out pointed gourd. Then, she fried it till golden-red on a cast-iron kadai, its patina bearing signs of long years of use. It was the most humble of kitchens, with two gas burners on the floor, pots and pans stacked in one corner, and diduma, surrounded by glass tumblers of homemade pickles, and tins of hand-pounded masalas. Before she could drop the stuffed gourds into a waiting gravy, I grabbed one to taste: firm to the bite, yet melting in the mouth. This was my first taste of potoler (pointed gourd) dolma.

But credit for this creation goes to the immigrant Armenians of Bengal who introduced dolma to us. Of course, Bengalis worked on it, transliterated to d-o-r-m-a, added their own twist and created a unique dish that today, drives most who taste it, to ecstasy.

Armenians migrated to India in the 16th century, to escape Turkish persecution. As the community spread, so did their trade, taking them to the prosperous city of Calcutta. They imported expensive Venetian glassware, amber, wool, swords and guns, in exchange of spices, pearls, cotton, and precious stones from India. They grew as realtors, and particularly in the jute industry, Armenians ruled the roost. The Grand Hotel of Kolkata, lovingly called the Grand Dame of Chowringhee, saw first light of day under the Armenian entrepreneur, Arathoon Stephen. 

Aficionados of fine living and good taste, the Armenians were immediately drawn to Bengalis, a warm community that prided itself on education, inviting them to lavish Christmas lunches and club dinners. Within such cross-cultural communion, the potoler dorma entered Bengali cuisine, inspired by the singular Armenian dolma. 

I first learned about the complex history of this dish while dining at India’s first Armenian café, Lavaash by Saby, in Delhi.

Laavash’s version of the Armenian dolma, made of minced meat and bulgur (cracked wheat), wrapped in vine leaves and cooked in meat stock, is served alongside a garlic yoghurt sauce. Sabyasachi Gorai, the chef-owner, explained that Armenians who cooked this version of dolma always used vine leaves to wrap the meat and rice stuffing, along with ground allspice, fresh parsley and pepper.

In Kolkata, where a large chunk of the community thrived, one could identify an Armenian home by the grapevines, which were grown primarily for its leaves, to make dolmas. But with time, as Armenians blended in their new home and culinary customs, cabbage leaves replaced grape leaves, and fish and other delicacies filled in for the meat.

Though history has it that dolma’s origin goes back to the Ottoman empire, where Ottoman-Turks stuffed vegetables with meats, a reference found in pre-Ottoman Arabic cookbooks includes recipes like eggplant stuffed with meat.

The word dolma comes from dolmark in Turkish, which means 'to be stuffed'.  

But the Greeks have another tale: stuffed vine leaves came into use when Alexander the Great besieged Thebes. In times of paucity, the Greeks stretched scant leftovers meats by rolling them in grape leaves. The Greeks called these dolmathes, and use finely minced lamb, spiced with crushed mint, fennel, parsley, dill, pine nuts and hints of garlic. These are often served hot, with chicken broth and a lemon sauce, or served cold with a drizzle of olive oil. 

When it reached the Middle East, dolma became dolmeh, and along with vine leave, spinach, Swiss chard and cabbage were also used. So it makes sense when chef Gorai says that even today, the Armenian Club of Kolkata serves the classic dolma in a plump, glazed, cabbage roll at their annual Christmas lunch.

Built on the technique of braising vegetable to further develop flavour and texture, Bengalis revamped dolma into a whole new meal. Native Bengalis invented a vegetarian version that is a favourite even today.

Soaked gram flour, churned to a paste, is dry-roasted with ghee, cumin powder, hing, chillies, ginger, peanuts, and grated coconut. Once cooled, this is stuffed into a peeled and hollowed-out pointed gourd. Then, it is fried and set aside. In a large pan over medium heat, a gravy is prepared. Into a rich-gingery sauce bursting with the nutty flavours of Bengali garam masala and ghee, the stuffed gourds are gently added and braised, until the jus seeps inside the dolma.

I have wondered why the pointed gourd is favoured over several other eligible varieties within the gourd family. Food historian and author, Chitrita Banerji, in her book, Bengali cooking: Seasons & festivals, claims that other gourds are too watery to reward a mock meat-like, succulent bite.

Chingri (shrimp) potoler dolma is another variation that is made on special occasions in my family. Small prawns, or kucho chingri, are sautéed with fried onions, ginger-garlic paste, cumin powder, chilli powder, Bengali garam masala, coconut gratings, and mashed potatoes. Once the stuffing turns into a smooth mash, chopped raisins are added. 

The pulp and seeds are scooped out of the potol through a hole, and then it is stuffed. The technique of stuffing remains the same, unlike the stuffings themselves, that are liable to change. And the riper the potol, the more delicious the dish.

For Bengalis, meat is always mutton, or goat meat. Keema potoler dolma became a favourite, relished by both ghotis and the bangals (migrants from Bangladesh). It has a rich, robust, and more complex flavour from the slow-cooked keema and the tangy, masala-laced sauce.

I remember diduma preparing a lavish spread for her sons during Jamai-shasti, a Bengali ritual around the well-being of the son-in-law. Rows of tables and chairs would be set out on the open courtyard, and family members took turns serving. Around each plate was set a collection of metal bowls, into which shukto, daal, ghonto, fish, meat, chutney, and dessert were served. On the plate, alongside an array of bhajas, (fried vegetables), would be mutton-stuffed potoler dolma (without the gravy), the only consistent feature of this annual feast. The outer skin, wrinkled and crisp, was a favourite among the kids and adults alike.

My mother, on her rare cooking sprees, would spend the afternoon preparing and cooking potoler dolma with keema. This recipe passed on to mother from my diduma, and now rests with me.

Potoler Dolma Recipe

Prep time: 45 mins Cooking time: 30 mins Total Time: 1 hr 15 minutes

Ingredients
300 grams minced meat
10 nos. pointed gourd (cleaned and peeled)

Keema
1 tbsp ginger paste
1 tbsp garlic paste
1 big chopped onion
1 tsp chilli powder
1 tsp garam masala powder
2 tbsp hung curd
1 tbsp raisins
1tsp turmeric powder
Sugar to taste
Salt to taste

Gravy
2 tbsp ghee
2tbsp oil
4 cardamom
4 cloves
4 cinnamon
2 bay leaves
2 tbsp ginger paste
3 tbsp onion paste
1 tbsp roasted cumin powder
1 tbsp Kashmiri chilli powder
½ tbsp of spicy red chilli powder
1 tsp Bengali garam masala powder
1 tsp turmeric powder
2 tbsp chopped tomatoes 

Directions
To make the stuffing
In a medium-sized pan, heat the oil over medium heat. Caramelise the onion and then add ginger-garlic paste and cook for 2 mins until the raw smell goes. Add minced meat, chilli powder, and sauté until the colour changes. Combine the hung curd, sprinkle salt and allow the meat to simmer, stirring occasionally until keema changes a shade darker and the liquid dries up. Finish it with sugar and garam masala. Keep aside and let it cool.

Semi peel the potol, meaning keep a few slivers of skin intact on the top. Cut one side of the potol from top and scoop out the inner part. Don’t throw the cut out which will be needed later to pin the hollowed vegetable, so the stuffing doesn’t come out braising in the gravy. 

Sprinkle salt and turmeric and fry the hollowed vegetable until golden brown.

To make the gravy
Set the oil in a khadrai to medium heat. Once hot, thrown in the cardamoms, cinnamon, cloves and bay leaves. Once the aroma reaches you, add the onion and ginger paste and cook for 4-5 minutes.

Next, add all the dry masalas and chopped tomatoes, stir until everything mixes well into a smooth paste, also sprinkle hot water if the gravy dries up and put it to simmer. Now add salt and sugar as per taste.

Add ½ cup of warm water and bring to boil. Once the sauce thickens a bit, add the dolmas and cook with lid on in a slow flame for 5 -6 minutes. Finish with garam masala and a small dollop of ghee.

Serve with hot steaming rice or roti.

Satarupa M. Datta is a travel / culinary writer based out of Mumbai. On days she is not working, she flies off to new destinations in the hunt for cultures, gastronomy, art and frames that tell stories.

ALSO ON THE GOYA JOURNAL