Category: Columns

Many years ago, perhaps more than a decade, I found myself standing in front of Jama Masjid in Delhi, at the beginning of Matia Mahal, a food street renowned like no other. It was my first time, and while I knew the legends spoke of streets lined with kebabs of the kind that drove men wild with lust, I wasn’t prepared for the sheer number of vendors.

They were everywhere, masters of the makeshift barbecue, and I had no idea where to begin. Everything smelled and looked so good! And the prices were shockingly low – a meat-eating glutton’s paradise.

But this story is about Dilshad Qureshi’s kababs, then a handsome young boy with incredible skills on the grill. My go-to at the time was Lalu Kababi, from whose wares I never strayed, until one day his stall was closed and in wild-eyed desperation, I chose to try the kababs at Al-Nisar Kababi, Dilshad’s stall.

That was ten years ago and since then I’ve never been elsewhere, choosing not to eat at all if his stall was closed; he’s that good.

Watching Dilshad at work is somewhat mesmerizing.

Vats of spiced meats lie prepared next to him, one minced and the other mostly organ meats. The minced meat he shapes into seekh kebabs on heavy squared seekhs / skewers, while the botis (chunks of organ meats) are skewered, both placed on a shallow metal grilled filled with glowering coals, a portable fan placed at one end, keeping the embers glowing.

A few minutes after being placed, the seekh kababs are given a single turn each, rapidly, one after another in a smooth practiced motion that in itself is a thing of such skill, exposing the next side of the seekh kebab to the hot coal below. When four turns are done, the kebab is done,

The boti kababs on the other hand are cooked in bunches, one side after another, the whole lot placed in one bunch on the grill, a few minutes later gathered up and with one flick of the wrist all of them are flipped over so the other side can cook.

All this while there’s a sauce pan close to the coals literally filled with boiling butter.

When my order is done, usually three or four seekhs of both seekh and boti kababs, they’re slid on to melamine plates, topped with finely sliced onions, drizzled with chili-hot, piquant green chutney and then comes the cascade of golden butter poured liberally over the whole lot, finished with a bunch of thin rumali rotis grabbed from a plastic bag hanging close by, and handed over.

Now imagine the chap doing different parts of this process simultaneously for different orders, while also yelling for his staff to gather used plates, collect money from patrons – such busy.

Most of us aren’t likely to have eaten kababs sizzling hot, right off the grill. Watching the meat, fat and spice bubbling and sizzling inches away from hot coals, slow browning and developing that crisp, crusty exterior that is all but gone by the time kababs reach us from restaurant kitchens. I’m especially fond of the fatty bits of meat with globules of boiling fat visible. If I can get away with it, I’ll slyly point out those skewers with the most fat and Dilshad usually gives in to my enthusiasm.

And then comes the eating. Tearing off bits of the rumali roti, we’ll grab chunks of seekh or boti kebabs, then plenty of onions, the lot swirled around in that heavenly mixture of chutney and butter, before being quaffed and chewed, liberally delimited with sighs and hyperventilation and smiles of satisfaction, sometimes with closed eyes and murmurs of contentment.

I found the photo above while clearing out my Dropbox, and thought I’d share. :)

Every now and then I change the cover image of the Chef at Large group and write a small description – usually whatever immediately comes to mind. Here’s what I wrote earlier this morning. Do visit this post to see what others shared about their trysts with mooli. Some are quite interesting and our culinary cultural diversity continues to amaze me.

My earliest and fondest memories of radish / mooli is from the redi / cart outside school where this chap would have a stack of mooli on one side and a big jar of green chutney. During break or at the end of school, he’d peel them, cut them in half lengthwise, and smear a spoonful of that piquant, spicy and delicious chutney on the flat side with a spoon. We’d buy it for, maybe 50p.

That first bite of mooli would be a shock to the senses, usually somewhat cold, the flavours of the chutney shocking the palate, and God help us if the mooli was ‘strong’, sending a shock up the nostrils, sometimes leaving us gasping for breath. Every so often today, I break my fasts with a platter full of mooli and a katori of chutney. Quite a few nutrients in there, plus one of the few dishes in my list that are from childhood, low carb and satisfying too.

Then there are parathas stuffed with shredded / kaddu-kassed mooli, drenched in white butter, again with some dahi and green chutney on the side. Indu makes these parathas as two separate rotis with the stuffing in between. One side will first be lifted up causing a pillow of hot steam to escape, exposing the shreds of white mooli, speckled with red chili and dotted with bright green coriander. while butter is diligently applied all over the paratha while it cools down a bit. We rarely eat stuffed parathas these days, so each such occasion is a memorable indulgence.

I was asked to be part of a discussion panel at IICA’s graduation day about a month ago, and the title of this post was the topic of discussion. Here’s what my perspective was.

Food Production

Imparting knowledge of food production in a cost effective manner, to maximise both quantity and quality of output to organisations such as those involved in social welfare and reform, thus helping them make the most of usually scarce resources. Quite a few people know how to cook. You however, are training in the production of food. Your skills when applied to such situations could make all the difference to quite a few children for example, who may not otherwise have been affordable to that organisation.

Just as we have ‘Doctors without Borders’, we can also have ‘Chefs without Borders’; chefs travelling the world to regions affected by all manner of calamity, using their knowledge and skills to optimise available resources and create food production capabilities for those effected.

With an addition skill – a basic knowledge of nutrition, properties of different nutrients such as sensitivity to heat, cooking techniques for maximum retention of various nutrients, and the nutrition content of different foods, the food production systems you design in the above two scenarios would become nutrition delivery systems, making your work and role even more valuable.

We live in busy times, with barely any time for ourselves and our families and it is usually our bodies that suffer due to misinformation or lack of knowledge about food and nutrition. Armed with knowledge of both, food production and nutrition, a chef is also ideally placed to teach the principles of both, food production and nutrition to the masses, giving them a fresh lease on life, avoiding the epidemic of obesity, diabetes and cardiovascular disease we’re looking at, as a species, worldwide.

During times of economic crisis, when not only are prices of essential kitchen commodities high, but there’s also a cash crunch in most households, a chef can help the general populace cope by teaching techniques that allow a home cook to not only cook with a minimum of the basics, such as onions, but also how to stretch a rupee to the max, from a food quality and quantity point of view. At a time when families may not be able to afford to eat out, but still crave restaurant style food, your knowledge will go a long way in keeping families happier than they otherwise would, having found comfort in foods of their choice as well as having saved a few rupees.

Cultural Preservation

The preservation of the cultural aspects of food can be done in two ways primarily – via academia through theoretical conservation and via the population through practice and exposure. Chefs can play a key role in the preservation of such historical knowledge by first acquiring this knowledge and then exposing it via the establishments they’re associated with, not just via time limited promotions, but as full blown menus, with the kitchens too adapted to historical styles of cooking.

One might say this isn’t really stepping out of the kitchen. I would argue that the outcome of such an effort, when carried out in a sustained and consistent manner would result in greater cultural security of the people, resulting in lesser inter community strife given the comfort one gains from knowing one’s culture and history is safe, in addition to the numerous benefits gained from historical knowledge, which is being re-discovered by modern medical and nutritional science. In effect, this would enhance and retain the mental and corporeal health of our population in addition to keeping our multi-cultural society healthy, vibrant and happy as a whole. That, certainly is outside the kitchen.