Mysore pak served on a banana leaf. Author Charles Haynes. 26 April 2007. CCA-SA 2.0 Generic License. As diplomacy broke down and missiles tracked through the sky between India and Pakistan this spring, sweet shops in Rajasthan launched a patriotic sugar offensive, renaming age-old desserts like Mysore Pak and Aam Pak to the more nationally palatable Mysore Shree and Aam Shree. Why? Because “Pak” sounds suspiciously like… Pakistan. And nothing kills an appetite like geopolitics.
Screenshot of video depicting vandalism at shop called “Karachi Bakery.”
Never mind that “Pak” comes from Sanskrit, meaning “cooked” or “solidified with syrup,” and has absolutely nothing to do with Pakistan. When national pride is on the stove, who cares about etymology? Or history? Or the facts?
Not the Hindu nationalist workers of the BJP (Bharatiya Janata Party) who earlier in May vandalized the Shamshabad (Telangana State, India) branch of the Karachi Bakery, founded by an immigrant family that arrived in India during Partition. There hasn’t been retaliatory action in Pakistan yet. Not according to reports from Pakistan’s Express Tribune, where the Bombay Bakery in Hyderabad (Sindh Province, Pakistan) is still peaceably dishing out desserts.
According to popular tradition (and Wikipedia), Mysorepak was first concocted in the early 20th century in the royal kitchens of the Mysore Palace (Karnataka, India) during the reign of Maharaja Krishna Raja Wadiyar IV. The Wadiyars were patrons of the arts and refined cuisine, and maintained a celebrated kitchen. A palace cook named Kakasura Madappa, experimenting with gram flour (besan), sugar, and generous amounts of ghee, created a rich and golden sweet with a unique combination of crunchy crust and melting interior.
The method of making Mysorepak begins with boiling sugar to a precise syrup stage—paaka—followed by the gradual incorporation of roasted gram flour and hot ghee. The mixture thickens and begins to leave the sides of the pan, at which point it’s poured into greased trays, where it cools and solidifies into golden slabs.
As sweets are scrubbed of their suspicious syllables, it’s exhilarating to know that even as governments risk relations with friendly nations to rename cities or cathedrals or bodies of water, humble citizens can engage on their own in culture war from the safety of the dessert counter. Freedom fries, anyone?
