The beloved Eurasian dish is more than just food—it’s a cultural battleground where family recipes and identity collide.
SINGAPORE: Among the many Instagram Stories I’ve posted, one stands out as my greatest regret: the hand-written family recipe for devil’s curry. To make matters worse, I also shared it on Facebook. And just like that, I found myself under fire from older Eurasian folks, who pride themselves on being the gatekeepers of tradition. Their messages came fast, furious, and full of critique.
“Why did you leave this ingredient out? How could you add that?” To them, my version of devil’s curry was nothing short of heresy.
Posting a personal recipe online is always risky, but when it comes to Eurasians and their cherished devil’s curry, the stakes are much higher. This beloved dish, just as fiery in its flavor as in the debates it sparks, has been a point of contention among our people for years. And it’s no surprise. Curry, like culture, is subjective—and when it’s part of an identity as passionate as that of the Eurasian community, the arguments can get just as intense as the dish itself.
Devil’s Curry: More Than Just a Dish
Devil’s curry, or kari debal in Kristang, gets its name from the word ‘debal’, which means ‘leftovers’. It’s a dish born from the fusion of Portuguese colonial influence and Southeast Asian spices, crafted to use up all the leftover meat from Christmas feasts. Traditionally, this dish was made on Boxing Day with turkey, pork belly, bacon bones, and whatever other meats were left over from the day before.
For many Eurasians, devil’s curry is central to our identity—more so than Christmas presents or even the singing of Christmas carols. It’s our heritage, wrapped in spice and history. But like all beloved traditions, it’s far from straightforward. Ask any Eurasian family about their devil’s curry recipe, and you’re bound to stir up a heated debate. Should it have bacon bones? What about cocktail sausages? And who’s in charge of deciding what’s “authentic”?
As someone raised in a predominantly Chinese household, I didn’t fully appreciate the nuances of Portuguese Eurasian cuisine until I spent Christmas with my Kristang relatives. It was during these holidays that I experienced the vibrant, music-filled, and occasionally rowdy atmosphere of Eurasian celebrations, where devil’s curry wasn’t just a meal—it was the centerpiece of our festive identity.
Eurasian Banter: Where Food Meets Identity
Among Eurasians, it’s impossible to discuss devil’s curry without triggering a round of playful banter. This isn’t just about the food—it’s about the very essence of who we are. As a community, we’re known for our quick wit, our love of music, and, yes, our penchant for storytelling. But when it comes to devil’s curry, the arguments aren’t always light-hearted. The question of “who makes it best” can divide families, turning a festive meal into a battleground for authenticity.
Cheryl Noronha, my cousin and author of The Eurasian Table – Second Helpings, delves into the evolving nature of this dish in her cookbook. Originally designed to use up leftovers, devil’s curry has transformed into the star of the Christmas table. Cheryl’s grandmother, Theresa Noronha, is known for making the best devil’s curry in town—so much so that people would queue up at her kitchen door just for a taste. But even within our own family, there are disagreements about what makes the perfect curry.
A Dynamic Dish: The Evolution of Devil’s Curry
Devil’s curry isn’t static—it’s a living recipe, evolving with each generation. Like any good dish, it’s not meant to be rigid or fixed; it’s meant to adapt. The addition of certain ingredients, like bacon bones or even oyster sauce, can spark fierce debate, but these differences highlight the dynamic nature of Eurasian cuisine. What we consider “authentic” today is not the same as what our ancestors made. As Cheryl reflects, her research into Eurasian food has shifted her understanding of the dish—it’s not about preserving the past, but embracing the fluidity of tradition.
In truth, devil’s curry has always been a fusion of different cultural influences, and no one version can claim to be the “definitive” recipe. As Andre D’Rozario, a local artist and Eurasian, explains, the hyper-focus on authenticity in Eurasian food often stems from the uncertainty of our identity. Eurasians are a people born of intermarriage, blending cultures and traditions. In a way, our very existence is a culinary metaphor—constantly shifting, evolving, and adapting. The food we make is just as dynamic as the culture we embody.
Embracing Change in the Kitchen
So, the next time you meet a passionate Eurasian defending their version of devil’s curry, remember that the dish isn’t just about what goes into the pot—it’s about the stories and traditions it carries with it. As Cheryl and I often discuss, we don’t need to get bogged down in the small differences. What matters is the spirit behind the dish: a love for good food, good company, and a tradition that continues to evolve.
At the end of the day, devil’s curry is more than just a recipe—it’s a way of life. It represents the best parts of Eurasian culture: a blend of influences, constantly changing, but always rooted in a love of family, food, and tradition.
And if adding some leftover cheese tofu to the mix sounds good to you, who’s to say it shouldn’t be part of your devil’s curry? After all, if it tastes good, it’s part of the tradition too.
