Let it be said: if you stuff something inside dough and fry it, I will eat it.

Bring me your wontons, your dumplings, your potstickers, your pierogi, and most certainly your samosas. If you haven't tried one of these little Indian delights, they are deep-fried pockets of curried veggies perfect for dipping, and the only thing I love more than a deep-fried pocket is a dipping sauce.  Dipping sauce.

I love eating samosas at Indian restaurants, because I simply don't deep-fry at home (mess, odors, bad example for the children, etc.), but I crave samosa goodness more frequently than I eat out.  The solution?  A baked, homemade, vegetarian pot pie filled with all things that make samosas so tasty: lightly mashed potatoes, sweet onion, carrots, garlic, peas, and an aromatic blend of Indian spices.

Even you supposed curry-haters need to try this, I beseech you.  And my children, aged just three and five, loved this, probably because the veggies were so familiar (potatoes, carrots, peas) and the color so alarmingly yellow it had to be kid-food, right?

Ready?  Let's do this thing.

Assemble your spice blend: curry, cumin, ginger, red pepper, pepper, and salt.  In this dish you'll want to be a bit assertive with the salt to counter the blandness of the white potatoes, but we'll get to that in a bit.

The secret ingredient is a big tablespoon of whole mustard seeds.  Mustard seeds, which can be black or brown or white or anything in between, are an essential part of both Indian and French cooking, and are not expensive in the least when purchased at a world market or Indian grocer.  Pick some up, and ponder why all the major world religious have at least once parable about or reference to the mustard seed.  Mustard seeds: steeped in import, tasty in food.

Mix the spices and set aside.

The bulk of the pie will be composed of mashed boiled potato, so gather five medium-to-smallish white potatoes (no big Idaho bakers needed)...

...and wash, peel, and quarter.  Or have Private Beetle Bailey do it, if he's available.  Toss the spuds into a big pot of salted, boiling water and cook for about fifteen to twenty minutes until fork-tender.

Meanwhile, dice one medium sweet onion and three medium carrots.

And meanwhile-meanwhile, melt a bit of oil and butter together in a big skillet or Dutch oven.  See the potatoes boiling merrily there beside, and how I have already failed once by letting them boil over and leave chalky starch-water all over my pot and stovetop?  Cooking mistakes!  They happen.

Once the pan and fat is hot, add the veggies and cook for about ten minutes, stirring occasionally.

Half-way through, add four our five cloves of chopped garlic to the pan, and watch the whole affair closely so the garlic doesn't scorch, which is one of the less-fixable cooking mistakes.

When the potatoes are tender, drain them...

...and then add them back to the hot pot.  They should mash up easily with a spatula or spoon, and if they're very dry try adding a splash of milk, cream, or coconut milk if you have it.  I like to salt and pepper them at this point, just to taste.  Rule of thumb: if they taste good enough to eat plain right now, they will be good enough to be in your pie.  Pop the lid on the pot to hold in heat and set aside.

Once the onions are soft and the carrots fully cooked, push everything to the edges and add your little pile of spices to the center.  Let them sit, undisturbed, for about thirty seconds and they will become toasty and fragrant.  Then...

...stir the whole thing together, coating the veggies well.

Now deglaze with one cup of vegetable or chicken stock and add in one heaping cup of frozen peas.

Bring your still-warm potatoes over and add them to this pan, folding to combine.

Dump the whole affair in a deep-dish, buttered pie plate...

...and cover with one pie crust.  Then trim the excess, pinch the edges, and make a few little vents in the top.  Be sure to press the crust down so that no air pockets remain between the filling and crust.  A few words about crust: I've used a basic crust recipe because it's practically free.  Store-bought would also be fine, and a phyllo dough topping would be spectacular and replicate the fried flakiness of the original samosa.  That said: plain ol' pie crust is still a cheap thrill.  If you really want to go to town, make a double batch and do a bottom crust, too.  Crust!

Pop the pie into a 375 degree oven and bake for about fifty minutes, until the crust is golden brown.

While the pie is a complete meal, it is delightful served with a fresh, tangy cucumber yogurt salad (sliced English cucumbers, a big dollop of Greek yogurt, a glug of rice vinegar, pinches of sugar, salt, and pepper) that beautifully offsets the earthy stodginess of the pie.

Oooooh.

Aaaaaah.

There you have it: a simpler, healthier version of a much-loved Indian street food.  The only thing missing?  Dipping sauce.  Now where's my chutney...

(Printer-friendly recipe here.)