Sosis Bandari, Hot Dog Curry Sandwich of Iran

Seven and a half years ago, when I was mere steps along this sandwich journey (but had already self-applied the “Internationally Recognized Sandwich Expert” label I still claim), a friend who will remain unnamed asked me if I would be interested in having her write about a Persian sandwich for the site. Of course I would, why wouldn’t I? And so she assured me that after researching the sandwich, she would get back to me around the time of Nowruz, the Persian New Year, in March of 2015.

I never did hear back from her about that Persian sandwich but eventually I got curious and did some digging to find examples of Persian sandwiches I could write about. So it is that we find Sosis Bandari on our List for this month. The Farsi word “sosis” of course comes from the same root as the English “sausage” and in Iran is generally used to refer to cheaper hot dog-style forcemeat sausages, made with halal beef or chicken but never pork. “Bandari” is based on the word “bandar,” or port, so sosis bandari translates as port-style sausage.

Sosis bandari is not typical of Persian cuisine–missing is the focus on rice, on fresh herbs and fresh meats and fresh fruits and nuts. The beef Frankfurters most often used for the dish were introduced to Iranian plates via Turkey, the Middle East’s bridge to Europe. The dish itself is said to have originated in a port city in the south of Iran during the mid-20th Century. According to a one Youtube cook, depending on who is telling the story, it might have been sailors coming across the Arabian Sea from India, or possibly Indian soldiers who briefly occupied parts of southern Iran during World War II who brought the technique of cooking down onions and tomatoes and spices into a sauce. This technique was applied to the hot dogs that by then were common all over Iran by sandwich shops in the area. Over the decades, the dish gained popularity with young people, students, workers, anyone who would appreciate a quick, cheap, and filling meal.

There is remarkably little variance between recipes on the internet. The main commonalities are thin-sliced onions, garlic, bite-sized chunks of frankfurters, tomato paste, turmeric, and powdered chili peppers. Many recipes also add diced, pan-fried potatoes; others call for chopped green bell peppers; a few mention additional spices such as cumin or curry powder. For the most part though, the sosis bandari sandwich filling consists of sausages, onions, garlic, and maybe some potatoes in a thick tomato sauce spiced with turmeric and chili pepper (I used Aleppo peppers here).

As I often do, I based my recipe on the commonalities I found between other recipes online, and since so many recipes are so similar, mine may not differ greatly from the majority but I will record it here in any case.

Let’s not gloss too quickly over the last step in that recipe though–it is, after all, the entire point. While shopping at a Persian market in the Albany Park neighborhood of Chicago’s north side, I found some bread rolls that seemed appropriately sub-sandwichy. Upon closer inspection the bakery that made these claims to be Assyrian, an ethnic identity more closely associated with modern-day Iraq, and the bread rolls do resemble Iraqi Samoon bread. However, they still fit the bill, especially after being warmed in the oven.

To build the sandwich, you can slice the bread roll open and leave one side hinged like this, though many of the videos I saw left the ends closed as well, creating a kind of bread canoe to be filled with hot dog curry. And the versions I’ve seen really ladle the stuff in there.

The sandwiches are typically dressed minimally–no mayonnaise, for instance–but will almost universally have some thin slices of tomato added. By force of habit I seasoned these tomatoes, though the Persian-style pickled cucumbers that are also usually added to the sandwich are themselves powerfully salty.

Lettuce is not a given, but is a common addition, as is a parsley garnish. I used romaine lettuce as my hasty and half-assed research convinced me that it would be a commonly used sandwich green in that part of the world. Anybody more knowledgeable than I on Persian cuisine, I welcome your correction.

It’s an interesting sandwich, and a pretty one to a certain extent. And I’d like to report that it’s a delicious sandwich. Delicious would be overstating the case though. It’s certainly tasty, the tomato paste enhancing both the savory flavor of the beef hot links and the sweetness of the cooked onions, the aromatic alliums and turmeric and chilies creating a sort of rudimentary curry, and the saltiness of the pickles helping to enhance all those flavors. But the curry-like qualities fall a little flat, lacking the additional interesting aromatics that cumin and coriander or a pinch of garam masala would add, and the aleppo peppers I used providing only a low-to-medium capsaicin level. I recognize that these are problems with my recipe, and not necessarily with the sandwich as it might exist in other forms.

It all seems to underline a general point about street foods though–there’s a reason why we buy them in the street rather than make them at home. There’s an economy of scale in terms of prep time and a singularity of focus with regard to a particular stand’s featured food that escapes the home cook. A sandwich shop that sells 20 of these sosis bandari sandwiches a day has their process down, their ingredients at hand, their method streamlined. Step in, order the sandwich, hand over a reasonable amount of currency, and within minutes you have a hot and skillfully prepared sandwich in your hands.

Meanwhile, someone like me spends days researching the sandwich, roams the area gathering ingredients, puts an hour or two into prep and cooking, building expectations along the way. Then finally the sandwich is finished, and it’s just what it purports to be–chopped up hot dogs with potatoes and onions in a mildly spicy tomato sauce. It’s fine, tasty even. It’s better than I’m making it out to be, I promise you that. But there’s a bit of a letdown when expectations meet reality, and reality turns out to be a bit more mundane than those expectations promised.

Sosis Bandari is a cheap, filling, and even tasty sandwich. It’s an interesting product that developed within Iranian culture while seemingly not absorbing much that is Iranian. In essence, it has instead shaped a small piece of the culture around itself. For that reason if no other I am glad to have investigated it this month. Yet I would surely eat another one someday given the opportunity. I would prefer to order it from a Persian sandwich shop rather than make it myself, though.