In Defence of the Samosa: Why Indian Treats Don’t Deserve a Red Label
As the Health Ministry steps back from harsh warnings, the real danger might lie not in traditional snacks but in ultra-processed foods hiding behind “healthy” tags.
There are few things more comforting—or more quintessentially desi—than biting into a hot samosa with evening chai or enjoying a crisp jalebi on a lazy Sunday morning. For millions, these aren’t just snacks. They’re shared traditions, affordable indulgences, and warm reminders of home.
That emotional bond was tested this week when reports began circulating that some of our beloved street-side favourites might soon carry health warning labels. Social media reacted swiftly and emotionally. The very idea felt like more than just bureaucratic interference—it came across as a cultural slight.
But the panic, as it turns out, was premature. On July 15, the Union Health Ministry clarified that there were no plans to label Indian snacks like samosas and jalebis with red warnings. Instead, the ministry is leaning towards subtle awareness campaigns—simple advisory boards in cafeterias and public spaces highlighting the risks of excessive oil and sugar consumption.
The message isn’t about fear. It’s about context.
The Samosa Isn’t the Villain
Let’s be honest: samosas are deep-fried, and jalebis are sugar-drenched. No nutritionist would recommend them as health foods. But neither are they hiding what they are.
Made from basic, recognisable ingredients—flour, potatoes, curd, sugar, and spices—these treats are usually cooked fresh and consumed hot. There are no long ingredient lists, no mystery preservatives, no lab-engineered flavours, and no shelf life measured in months.
More importantly, they’re accessible. As Dr. Anjali Ahuja, a Delhi-based dietician, puts it: “A plate of samosa and jalebi is one of the few pleasures still within reach of the aam aadmi. While we can debate health metrics, we must consider affordability and cultural relevance too.”
Look at the numbers:
- A 100g samosa contains approximately 260–300 calories and 15g of fat.
- A single jalebi clocks in at 150 calories and around 50g of fat.
Yes, they’re indulgent. But compare that to:
- A fast-food cheeseburger, which has about 300 calories and 13g of fat.
- A slice of pizza, with 290 calories and 12g of fat.
The caloric difference is marginal. But the real difference lies in composition, not just calories.
Not Calories, But Chemistry
Traditional Indian snacks, for all their flaws, are still recognisable as food. They’re made in front of your eyes, with whole ingredients that your body has evolved to understand.
Contrast this with many Western fast foods and their ultra-processed cousins. As Dr. Rohan Dua, a cardiologist and public health advocate, notes: “The danger isn’t in fried or sweet foods alone—it’s in engineered formulations your body doesn’t know how to process.”
Take a typical fast-food burger:
- The bun is packed with emulsifiers, conditioners, and preservatives.
- The cheese is often processed with stabilisers, not real dairy.
- The sauces contain high-fructose corn syrup and artificial colours.
That’s not food—it’s a chemical product formulated to last, taste uniform, and drive repeat consumption.
The Real Risk Is on the Shelf
The bigger health concern today isn’t the occasional samosa or jalebi—it’s the daily consumption of so-called “healthy” packaged foods.
Protein bars, “lite” chips, zero-sugar colas, and health biscuits now fill lunchboxes and kitchen shelves across India. But many of these items are ultra-processed, filled with synthetic sweeteners, additives, and stabilisers disguised under wellness branding.
That’s where health warnings do make sense. Clear labelling of sodium, added sugar, and saturated fat on packaged goods can empower consumers to make informed choices beyond the marketing hype.
As public health experts argue, it’s these stealthy snacks—not homemade or street-side treats—that deserve our scrutiny.
Balance Over Blame
This week’s panic around Indian snacks teaches us a valuable lesson: context matters. Food doesn’t exist in a vacuum—it lives in culture, affordability, and access.
Yes, nutrition education is crucial. But it shouldn’t come at the cost of cultural erasure. Every cuisine has its indulgences. The French have their croissants. The Americans, their burgers. Indians have samosas and jalebis. To single out local fare while ignoring globalised processed foods is not just unfair—it’s uninformed.
As Dr. Dua succinctly puts it, “The occasional samosa isn’t a threat. The real concern is what we’ve normalised eating every single day without question.”
So go ahead, enjoy that jalebi. Bite into that flaky samosa. Know what you’re eating and how often—but don’t let guilt overwhelm joy. Sometimes the most dangerous food isn’t the one you know is indulgent—it’s the one pretending to be healthy.
And that, frankly, needs no red label.
IT.