a famine and a biryani

The writes of passageStories & Articles Written by Sanjiv KhamgaonkarHomeAbout
Archive Posts Tagged ‘awadhi cuisine’ In a time of excess – a famine, and a biryaniFebruary 19, 2011Sanjiv Khamgaonkar1 commentThe Nawabs of Awadh were a decadent lot who spoiled themselves silly luxuriating away the hours and days of their lives in all sorts of indulgences, with nary a thought for their people.The flag of the Nawabs of AwadhDescended from a Persian adventurer called Sadat Khan, who was named Nawab of Awadh in 1732, a dependency of the Mughal Empire, successive generations, in fact all 12 of them, pushed the limits to which profligacy and extravagance could be taken.They were the newest royal family of all the Muslim states at that time, the nouveau riche of the 18th century, the new playboys on the block with pocketfuls of gold coins to throw on whatever they fancied.As the Mughal empire waned, the Nawabs grew stronger and more independent and the need to out-do the Mughals and impress the British became more important than running their kingdom.An English visitor to the court of Awadh wrote, “The style in which this remote colony lived was surprising, it far exceeding even the expense and luxuriousness of Calcutta” the then capital of India.While the Nawabs were lovers of poetry, song, dance and kept large harems, most of the money from their treasury went towards food.The average spend on food in those days would be in the region of Rs 70,000 per month (equivalent to approximately Rs 1,000,000 or US$ 20,835 today), and this did not include the salaries of the vast retinue of cooks who were a highly prized and zealously protected lot during their reign.There were three categories of cooks in the household. The ‘bawarchis’, who cooked food in large quantities; the ‘rakabdars’ who were gourmet chefs and prepared exquisite dishes and meals; and the ‘nanfus’ who made a selection of rotis and breads. There were many ‘rakabdars’ in a household, each specializing in a particular dish or cuisine.An army of assistants and helpers who had specialist roles to perform in the royal kitchens assisted these highly paid and highly regarded cooks. And to supervise them all, a ‘daroga-e-bawarchikhana’ or head of the kitchen would keep an eye on quality and ensured that the Nawabs and their entourage were always happy.It was unwritten law that the Nawabs would sanction whatever quantity of ingredients the cook demanded. No questions were asked nor doubts raised. A popular story goes that Nawab Ghazi-ud-Din slapped his vizier (minister) Agha Meer for reducing the quantity of ghee (clarified butter) used by the cook in preparing parathas. The nawab was no fool. He said that even if the cook pilfered some ghee, so what? The parathas he made were excellent, while “You rob the whole monarchy and think nothing of it.”The British, already impressed with the lavishness of the Mughals, were flabbergasted by the Nawabs excessiveness. An officer of the East India Company noted in his diary, “They kept a table which, both in appointments and in the fare provided, could vie with any belonging to men of rank in England. There were three separate dishes provided for each course. That at the upper end of the table was cooked by an English cook; that in the centre by an Indian; and that at the lower end was prepared by a French chef”.A typical everyday ‘dastarkhwan’ or spread of food in Awadh would not be complete unless it had the following dishes:Korma (braised meat in thick gravy), salan (a gravy dish of meat or vegetable), kheema (minced meat), kebabs (pounded meat fried or roasted over a charcoal fire), bhujia (cooked vegetables), dal (lentils), pasinda (fried slivers of very tender meat, usually kid, in gravy), rice cooked with meat in the form of a pulao, chulao (fried rice) or served plain. There would also be a variety of rotis. Deserts comprise gullati (rice pudding), kheer (milk sweetened and boiled with whole rice to a thick consistency), sheer brunj, (a rich, sweet rice dish boiled in milk), muzaffar (vermicelli fried in ghee and garnished with saffron).The menu changed seasonally and with the festivals. In the winters, paya (trotters), meat koftas and kidneys were favoured along with birds like partridge and quail. In the spring and summer, they included fish in their diets.Biryani, as a dish, did not feature on the menu of the Nawabs for a little more than half a century into their reign. It took a famine for it to be recognized as a dish worthy of a Nawab’s table.Dum Gosht Biryani from Kakori House1784. A prolonged dry and dusty period befalls Awadh. The plains heat up and the rivers dry into small polluted streams. Even the nobility fall on hard times. And all this pains the 4th Nawab of Awadh.Asaf-ud-Daula, besides being a man of exceptional taste and a connoisseur of fine food, was known more for his generosity. As a famine relief measure, he ordered the construction of the Bara Imambara and splashed out more than a million pounds on it. It still remains one of the grandest buildings in modern day Lucknow.Legend has it that it was destroyed every evening and rebuilt the next day so that more people could be employed. The nobles, to protect their position in society did no work but were quietly paid when night fell and neither was their identity revealed nor was it asked.To feed this army of construction workers, large cauldrons were filled with rice, meat and vegetables, sealed and slow cooked for hours to create a one-dish meal.One day on his rounds, Nawab Asaf-ud-Daula caught a whiff of the aroma emanating from these cauldrons and immediately instructed his royal cooks to serve the dish. After a bit of tweaking, it began gracing his table. The rest, they say, is history.Nawab Asaf-ud-Daula discovered the 'dum' style of cooking and then patronized it‘Dum’ or cooking off the steam, is an elaborate method that involves cooking a combination of ingredients over a slow fire in a large bottomed vessel, which is sealed with dough to allow the contents to cook in their own juices. This process allows the spices and the meat to release their flavors gently and retain their natural aromas.The Lucknow or Awadh biryani is a ‘pakki’ biryani, where cooked meat in special spices is layered over cooked rice and then sealed and given ‘dum’. The Hyderabad biryani is a ‘kucchi’ biryani, where raw meat and rice are combined with spices and then given a ‘dum’.In Mumbai, two restaurants serve you an authentic Lucknow style biryani. You can unravel the mystique of the Nawabs either at Dum Pukht/ITC Maratha (+91 22 28303030) or at Kakori House (+91 22 65229211). An enjoyable meal fit for the Nawabs it would certainly be.At the end of Asaf-ud-Daula‘s reign, his grand construction spree emptied out his treasury. He died a poorer man. But his kingdom was enriched by his biryani.Categories: FoodTags: 18th century india, awadhi cuisine, british india, dum biryani, east india company, lucknow biryani, mumbai food, nawabs of awadh, sanjiv khamgaonkarThe ‘Insulted’ Nawab vs. The ‘Toothless’ NawabDecember 12, 2010Sanjiv KhamgaonkarLeave a commentKebab shootout at Kakori HouseAt Kakori House, the idea is to bring Awadhi food out of the confines of five star environments and into the mainstream, without compromising on the quality and authenticity of the cuisine. And Ishtiyaque Qureshi, chef-owner with an impressive lineage, does a good job with this new brainchild of his.The Mahim outlet in Mumbai is his first ‘sit-down’ offering, the other at Bandra is a take-away. Ignore the size (it’s small) and interiors (I’m not a great fan of it), but focus on the food, that’s where he excels.But before I get into the kebab shootout, a word on the Awadhi style of cooking, just so that you know what to expect. Here’s a quote, straight from Wikipedia:As opposed to conventional thought, Awadhi food does not make use of hundred-odd spices to produce each dish but a blend of handful but not so common spices. The truth lies in the manner in which the food is cooked on a slow fire. This process allows the juices to be absorbed well into the solid parts. All nutrients are retained in the food through this process. In addition to the major process of cooking food in Awadhi style, there are also other important processes such as marinating meats in order to produce a delightful taste. This is especially the case with barbecued food that might be cooked in a clay oven or over an open fire.Sweet, rich and full of flavour, Awadhi cuisine is ‘shahi’, or made for royalty. The use of saffron, cardamom, jawetri (nutmeg flour) and nuts is common. But back to the shootout.I wanted to pit two of the signature Awadhi kebabs against each other. One created by an ‘insulted’ Nawab, the other by a ‘toothless’ one. The kakori kebab vs. the galawati. Here’s how they fared at Kakori House.Galawati kebabs - the 'toothless' Nawab's creationThe galawati or galoutiLegend has it that the galawati kebab was created for an aging Nawab Wajid Ali Shah of Lucknow who lost his teeth, but not his passion for meat dishes.‘Galawati’ means “melt in your mouth” and was perfect for the toothless Nawab who continued savouring this until his last days.Traditionally, green papaya is used to make it tender. After being mixed with a few select herbs and spices (great chefs rarely reveal what they are exactly), the very finely ground meat is shaped into patties and fried in pure ghee until they are browned.The original recipe that brought many a smile on the Nawab’s face, albeit toothless, and many a sigh of satisfaction, is supposed to have more than 100 aromatic spices.The galawatis served at Kakori House are soft, flavourful and delicate. You feel you are eating meat yet it yields in the mouth, which is a wonderful thing. You can eat it all by itself and let the rich taste engulf you or use a roti.And that’s my biggest grouse at Kakori House. They don’t get it that I’m not toothless. I don’t want to have soft rotis, however refined they may be, with soft meat. Give me a crisp roti any day. That would, for me, make it perfect.Kakori kebabs - the 'insulted' Nawab's revengeThe kakoriThere is much folklore about this famous kebab that takes its name from a small hamlet called Kakori on the outskirts of Lucknow.One such story says that the kakori kebab was created by the Nawab of Kakori, Syed Mohammad Haider Kazmi, who, stung by the remark of a British officer about the coarse texture of the kebabs served at dinner, ordered his rakabdars (gourmet cooks) to evolve a more refined seekh kebab.After ten days of research, they came up with a kebab so soft and so juicy it won the praise of the very British officer who had scorned the Nawab.The winning formula his rakabdars came upon included mince obtained from no other part but the raan ki machhli (tendon of the leg of mutton), khoya, white pepper and a mix of powdered spices.I didn’t get to find out the exact recipe Kakori House uses, but the kakori kebabs were so soft that, and being used to firmer seekh kebabs, it was difficult to pick them off the plate. They are very aromatic and have a strong saffron note to them.I would prefer to eat it with a crisp roti, but none is available here, and that is indeed tragic.The ‘toothless’ Nawab prevailsFar away from Lucknow, the Nawabs creations live on in splendid form at Kakori House. But my personal favourite remains the ‘toothless’ Nawab’s galawati, the meatier tasting one. However, the rotis is where they go completely wrong at Kakori House. And that is a big let down because rotis are an intrinsic part of the kebab experience. Ishtiyaque Qureshi, I hope you are listening.Kakori House, Shiv Sagar Society, Opp. Paradise Cinema, Lady Jamshedjee Road, Mahim. Tel: +91 (22) 65229211. Open daily Noon – Midnight. Takeaway at Bandra. Tel: +91 (22) 65109211. Nominated for Best Kebabs, CNNGo Mumbai Best Eats 2010Categories: FoodTags: awadhi cuisine, best kebabs in mumbai, galouti kebabs, indian kebabs, kakori house, kakori kebabs, mumbai food, mumbai restaurants, sanjiv khamgaonkarRSS feedGoogleYoudaoXian GuoZhua XiaMy Yahoo!newsgatorBloglinesiNezhaSanjiv KhamgaonkarFoodie, Photographer, Digital Artist, Doodler, Writer & Film Director. Currently working towards getting my first 'Bollywood' movie on a roll. In the meanwhile, here's some food. Keep hungry! Copyright NoticeAll content in this blog © SANJIV KHAMGAONKAR and THE WRITES OF PASSAGE. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to SANJIV KHAMGAONKAR and THE WRITES OF PASSAGE with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.Story CategoriesSelect CategoryFashion & Style (3)Food (40)Photography (2)Recipes (8)Travel Tales (5)Yachting Yarns (20)
Previously… Select Month February 2012 (2) January 2012 (1) December 2011 (1) November 2011 (1) September 2011 (1) August 2011 (3) July 2011 (1) June 2011 (1) May 2011 (1) February 2011 (1) January 2011 (1) December 2010 (3) November 2010 (1) October 2010 (1) September 2010 (3) August 2010 (3) July 2010 (2) June 2010 (1) May 2010 (3) April 2010 (3) December 2009 (1) November 2009 (2) September 2009 (3) August 2009 (27)Blogroll40 Mumbai Foods We Can't Live WithoutBest Coastal Seafood Restaturants – CNNGo Best Eats 2010City KitchenCNNGo Best Eats 2010 – MumbaiCrystalEating in Mumbai's Most Dangerous NeighborhoodsIdeal CornerMumbai Food fetish: Fresh catchMumbai's (air conditioned) Gourmet TrailMy Food Stories on CNNGoMy Photographic ArtOh! CalcuttaQuick guide to enjoying ramzan in MumbaiThe Short History of Indian Chinese FoodTagsbombaybombay duckbombilbummalocaptainCNNCNNGocricketdolphinseducationetymologyfashion tips for menfish curryformula 1grooming tipshelicopterhumourindiaindian foodindian recipesitalymaharashtrian foodmanchurianmohammed ali road mumbaimumbaimumbai foodmumbai restaurantsonionspaellapaparazziparsi recipespiratespotatoessailingsailing englishsailing jokessanjiv khamgaonkarsmoked salmonsosspainsushiteathe writes of passageyachtyachts TopWordPressBlog at WordPress.com. Theme: INove by NeoEase.

.reblog-from img { margin: 0 10px 0 0; vertical-align: middle; padding: 0; border: 0; }
.reblogger-note img.avatar { float: left; padding: 0; border: 0; }
.reblogger-note-content { margin: 0 0 20px 35px; }
.reblog-post { border-left: 3px solid #eee; padding-left: 15px; }
.reblog-post ul.thumb-list { display: block; list-style: none; margin: 2px 0; padding: 0; clear: both; }
.reblog-post ul.thumb-list li { display: inline; margin: 0; padding: 0 1px; border: 0; }
.reblog-post ul.thumb-list li a { margin: 0; padding: 0; border: 0; }
.reblog-post ul.thumb-list li img { margin: 0; padding: 0; border: 0; }
.reblog-post { border-left: 3px solid #eee; padding-left: 15px; }

FollowFollow “The writes of passage”Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.Powered by WordPress.com