“This Jaffna curry powder is freshly prepared,” said the manager of my hotel in the northern Sri Lankan town of Jaffna, handing over a small rattan box as I prepared to leave for Colombo. The powder — a heady mix of spices with a distinct hint and aroma of Ceylon cinnamon — was a much-appreciated farewell gift.

As a curry connoisseur, I love to sample vegetarian versions of curries from the countries I visit — dishes that often carry their own unique colonial history intertwined with distinct local flavors and ingredients.

Believed to have originated from the South Indian Tamil word karil or kari, referring to a spicy stew of vegetables or meat, the dish now known as curry was spread worldwide by British and Portuguese imperialists, who ruled most of India until independence in 1947.

Curries popularized by Europeans were heavily influenced by the tastes of colonial officials and have survived within India in the unique cuisine of the Anglo-Indian community, largely descended from marriages between British soldiers and administrators and Indian women.

Signature Anglo-Indian dishes such as mutton curry and egg curry were popularized domestically by the Indian railways, whose pantry car chefs were adept at blending Indian and European cuisine. Traveling as a child with my father, a railway employee, I got to know about these unique dishes, although, as a vegetarian, I never tried or tasted them.

A Sri Lankan vegetarian platter with dishes prepared using curry powder.

At home, the curry we relished was dry and spicy, stir-fried or steamed, and seasoned with a distinctive tempering of lentils and mustard seeds cooked in hot oil, along with a pinch of asafetida and a sprig of curry leaves. Occasionally, grated coconut and herbs would be added as a garnish.

However, the taste of curry varied significantly from one household to another. That continues to be the case in India, where there is no single conception of what constitutes the dish known in English as curry.

Instead, our spicy stews and saucy dishes are known by various names such as kuzhambu, rogan, korma, salna and kurma, depending on the region in which they originated. We also have stewy dishes of vegetables, spices and lentils thickened with chickpea flour, buttermilk or curd, and flavored with grated coconut or coconut milk, which bear names such as kadhi, kootu and olan.

A South Indian Tamil meal on a banana leaf with dry, spicy and stir-fried vegetables.

My favorite curry is the saucy and tangy rougaille from Mauritius, which combines vegetables cooked in spices with a tomato sauce, blending Indian and Creole flavors. Yet its origins can be traced to the country’s indentured laborers and slaves during the 18th and 19th centuries.

Poor laborers from India were lured to the island by the British with promises of a better life. As migrants in this new land, Indians adjusted their cuisine to the climate and available local ingredients, helping eventually to create the island’s sept cari (seven curry) celebration meal, which has become a key element in Mauritian culinary culture.

A Mauritian sept cari meal, left, and the spices and veggies used to prepare it.

Unlike the tangy and spicy Mauritian curries, Thai and Indonesian versions of the dish often remind me of homemade South Indian dishes — coconut-based, mild, made with minimal oil and filled with vibrant vegetables and shallots. However, these dishes maintain their own unique identity with their soup-like consistency and an abundance of local ingredients such as lemon grass, tofu and cilantro.

My latest indulgence is the umami-flavored Japanese curry with rice known as kare raisu, which is descended from the Indian curries introduced to Japan by the British in the late 19th century.

Kare raisu in restaurants outside Japan can be variable: A dish I tried in Thailand a few years ago included an excessive amount of tofu and evinced a faint smell of oyster sauce, which did not complement ingredients such as turmeric and coriander.

Homemade Japanese curry makes for a nice, comforting meal.

However, thanks to e-commerce grocery sites, buying and preparing Japanese curry cubes in India is now easy. I break a few cubes to create a roux, adjust its consistency with wheat flour, add stir-fried vegetables and paneer (a nonmelting Indian soft cheese) instead of tofu to suit my Indian palette, and pair the curry with rice or noodles.

The perfect finishing touch is savoring my homemade kare raisu while admiring cherry blossoms from the comfort of my home in Shillong, northeast India, while planning a trip to see the blossoms and eat the curry in Japan.

Making my own versions of international curries is a fascinating pastime for me, which is why the Jaffna curry powder in Sri Lanka was a perfect gift. Cooking these dishes also reminds me of the aromatic trail left by the adventurous global journey of India’s kari.