Iqbal Ahmed
BENGALI STREET EATS
32
BANGLADESH
Born and raised in NYC’s Lower East Side in 1987, Iqbal, the youngest of six siblings, grew up feeling like a typical ’90s New Yorker kid: Streetwise beyond his years, he knew how to get around town on his own, enjoyed eating fast food with his friends after classes, and would talk back to his parents when they woke him up for school.
“I was one of those kids growing up, a know-it-all. I didn’t know we were immigrants until I was like fifteen.
My parents were always telling us, Hey, you guys are losing your culture. Then my father took us to Bangladesh for the first time when I was fifteen, and that’s when everything changed—like a wake-up call. I went there and I saw kids scrapping for food and I was like, Wow, we have it really good here in New York. My dad literally said, If I never left, you’d be here in this village, working as child labor. And that humbled me.
My dad was a head chef for most of his life—that’s how he actually got to America. He worked on cruises. He worked in Japan, in London—finally got to here. And I would never appreciate the stories until I got older and was like, Wow, this guy did a lot. The guy he was working for—at an Indian restaurant in the Upper East Side—that guy actually sponsored my entire family to come here, in the eighties. And when it comes to food, my dad actually taught my mom how to cook. Growing up, until I was fifteen, I would always go to KFC or like McDonald’s, and I wouldn’t appreciate the home-cooked meals. But as I got older, I would see the amount of work it took to make them, and my palate changed: I was enjoying it a lot more.
I fell in love with the food industry. My dad would tell us, Hey if you don’t do well in school, you’re going to become a dishwasher. And my first job out of high school was at a restaurant. I was a waiter at Dallas BBQ, and it got me through college. I learned how to bartend, I learned hospitality, I learned how to manage people. I got offers to manage places, and eventually ended up buying a place.”
The place that Iqbal bought became Indi Thai—a little restaurant in the Lower East Side, specializing in both Indian and Thai cuisine—which he started with his sister Nasrin, who benefitted the most from their father’s culinary teachings (and who wrote the following recipes), as well as his New York–childhood friend Emon Ullah, who helps manage the business side. Though Iqbal and Emon never imagined it as teenagers, now they are both married to Bengali women, whom they first met while visiting family in Bangladesh—and their wives have helped them reconnect with Bengali culture and food even more as adults.
“YOU’RE ONE OF MY KIDS WHO WERE BORN HERE, MY DAD WOULD SAY. I WANT YOU TO BECOME THE PRESIDENT. I WAS LIKE, DAD, THAT’S HIGH HOPES.”
“What led us to the Queens Night Market is Joey Bats. He’s actually a neighbor of ours, of Indi Thai restaurant. He’s two doors down on Allen Street. And he was telling me about this market, with vendors from all over the world. . . .”
Bengali Street Eats, now a brick-and-mortar establishment around the corner from Indi Thai, was born as a pop-up for the Queens Night Market in 2019. Both Iqbal’s and Emon’s families got involved, putting their own culinary heritage front and center this time.
“We didn’t lose our culture as much as our parents thought. My father’s not here no longer, but I’m sure he’d be very proud of how all the kids turned out. We give back to the community, not only in Bangladesh but also here in New York. Coming from an immigrant household has been a true blessing.”
SHINGARA
Vegetable Samosas
Bengali shingara tend to be plumper and have thicker wrappers than their samosa counterparts in other Desi countries. The division of labor for shingara in the Ahmed household: Jamal (dad) oversaw the fillings, Jahanara (mom) and Parvin (eldest sister) were in charge of the dough wrappers, and the other five siblings would stuff the wrappers with help from Jamal. The family tradition was a special treat because Jamal, head chef at an Indian restaurant, would rarely bring his talents home from work, but the kids marveled at his cooking chops when he did.
Makes 4 servings (8 samosas)
DOUGH
1 cup (125 g) unbleached all-purpose flour (gluten-free, if needed)
1 tablespoon soybean oil
Pinch of roasted ground cumin
Pinch of salt
FILLING
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
½ medium Spanish onion, diced
1 garlic clove, minced
1 medium russet potato, peeled and diced
1 small carrot, diced
⅛ cup (50 g) frozen corn*
⅛ cup (50 g) frozen peas*
½ teaspoon ground turmeric
Pinch of ground cumin
Pinch of salt, plus more to taste
1 tablespoon fresh cilantro, chopped
Soybean oil, for frying
Mint-cilantro chutney
1. To make the dough, combine all the ingredients in a bowl. Transfer to a floured surface and knead, adding water, a tablespoon at a time, for about 5 minutes, until the ingredients are fully integrated and the dough is smooth. Usually about 3 tablespoons of water will suffice. Transfer dough back to the bowl, cover, and let rest while you make the filling. The dough is ready when it slowly bounces back as you poke it.
2. To make the filling, heat the oil in a skillet over medium heat, add the onion and garlic, and cook until the onion is translucent. Add the potato, carrot, corn, peas, turmeric, and cumin and stir until coated well. Add salt to taste. Pour in ½ cup (120 ml) water, cover, and simmer until the vegetables are tender and water has evaporated, about 15 minutes. Add the cilantro and stir lightly. Remove from the heat and let cool.
3. To make the shingara, cut the dough into 4 equal parts. Form each portion into a ball and roll out into a circle about 7 inches (18 cm) in diameter. Cut each circle in half.
4. Lay a semicircle of dough with the straight edge toward you. Bring the right corner up toward the very center of the dough, folding just beyond the halfway point. Moisten the vertical edge of the flap you just brought up, then bring the left corner toward the center, fold so it just slightly overlaps the moist edge of the other flap, and press to seal.
Lift the top of the folded flaps to open up into a cone that you can hold in one hand. Fill with 1 tablespoon of the filling.
Moisten the top edge of the cone and press together into a seam, creating a triangular shape.
5. Pour about 2 to 3 inches (5 to 7.5 cm) oil into a deep pan and heat over medium heat to about 350°F (180°C). Carefully drop in the shingara one at a time, but do not overcrowd the pot. Fry until golden brown and crispy, about 2 minutes on each side. Transfer to a colander lined with paper towels to drain.
6. Serve hot with the tamarind sauce and mint-cilantro chutney.
* Whereas traditional shingara tend to contain only potatoes and peas, here corn and carrots are added to the filling for additional texture and flavor.
CHOTPOTI
Chickpea and Potato Stew
Chotpoti is a roadside favorite in Bangladesh. This potato and chickpea stew contrasts the crunch of raw onions, the zing of hot chiles, and the tang of tamarind sauce. When Parvin moved to Flatbush, Brooklyn, in the late ’90s, she lived among a community of Bengali neighbors who celebrated Bengali culture. This is when she perfected this recipe, which has been passed down to Nasrin and Iqbal.
Makes 4 servings
TAMARIND SAUCE
5 tamarind pods, or substitute with ½ cup (80 g) tamarind pulp mixed with ½ cup water (120 ml)
2 red Thai chiles, roasted and dried, or 1 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1 teaspoon granulated sugar
Pinch of ground cumin
Pinch of black salt (kala namak)
STEW
1 cup (200 g) dried chana dal (split chickpeas), soaked overnight
1 teaspoon ground turmeric
¼ teaspoon salt
1 small russet potato, peeled, diced, and boiled until fork- tender
3 hard-boiled eggs, chopped or grated
½ medium Spanish onion, finely chopped
3 green Thai chiles, finely chopped
Fresh cilantro, leaves and stems, finely chopped
1 teaspoon chaat masala
1. To make the tamarind sauce, soak the tamarind pods in 1 cup (240 ml) water for 5 hours.
2. Crush the red chiles with the sugar and cumin in a separate bowl, then add the tamarind (along with its liquid) and the black salt. If the sauce is too runny, boil the sauce until it reaches the desired consistency.
3. To make the stew, drain the chana and transfer to a large pot. Add the turmeric and salt. Cover with about 4 inches (10 cm) water and bring to a rolling boil. Cover and cook over medium heat until tender, about 2 hours.
4. Add the potato and continue to simmer on low heat for 30 minutes, or until it reduces to the desired stew consistency.
5. Transfer the stew to a small serving bowl and top with the chopped egg, onion, green chiles, and cilantro. Top with the chaat masala and tamarind sauce.
FUSKA
Stuffed Semolina Crisps
Fuska is another roadside staple in Bangladesh, and it goes hand in hand with chotpoti, because the flavor profile and many of the ingredients overlap. Whereas the creamy, comforting texture of the stew is the foundation of chotpoti, it’s the crispiness of the bite-size semolina shell, exploding with exciting fillings in your mouth, that characterizes fuska. Not only is it delicious, it is just plain fun to eat.
Makes 4 servings
1 cup (200 g) dried chana dal (split chickpeas), soaked overnight
1 or 2 pinches of salt
1 red onion, finely chopped
7 to 8 sprigs cilantro, chopped
5 green Thai chiles, finely chopped
⅛ cup (80 ml) lemon juice
3 tablespoons chaat masala
Pinch of black salt (kala namak)
24 ready-to-cook puri papads (semolina discs)
Soybean oil, for frying
4 hard-boiled eggs, grated
1. Drain the chana and transfer to a large pot. Add the salt and cover with about 2 inches (5 cm) water. Bring to a boil, cover, and cook over medium heat until the chana is tender and the water has evaporated, about 2½ hours. Remove from the heat and let cool.
2. Add half of the red onions, half of the cilantro, the chiles, lemon juice, chaat masala, and black salt to the chana and mix well. Set aside.
3. Pour about 3 inches (7.5 cm) oil into a deep pan and heat over medium heat to about 350°F (180°C). Fry the puri papads, stirring constantly until they puff up and turn dark tan, about 1 minute. (If the crisps are undercooked then they will be rubbery; the crisps should crush easily.) Transfer to a colander lined with paper towels to drain.
4. When the puri papads are cool enough to handle, poke a hole on top of each and fill halfway with the chana filling. Completely fill with a pinch of the remaining red onion and cilantro and the grated eggs.
5. Pour 1 teaspoon of the tamarind sauce into each crisp and enjoy immediately. Waiting too long will result in soggy fuska.
