The Hindu Business Line : Karim’s kebabs

Smoke from over a dozen kebab corner shops wafted through the narrow alley as my auto driver negotiated his way along with cycle- rickshaws and pilgrims, who were streaming in and out of the Jama Masjid. The gabardine clad butchers and the echoes of the muezzin took me straight into a scene from a Pamuk novel. Old Delhi, after all, shares antecedents with the saracenic hubs of Istanbul, Isfahan and Tashkent, considering the immense exchange of commerce and culture brought about by the silk route. Where was the oft-quoted Karim’s restaurant, which earned accolades from foodies worldwide?

My father and I walked towards a non-descript street and did not find a lacquered entrance or an uppity footman. Offal was splattered on the sidewalk and a narrow passage led us to a little complex replete with gastronomic delights that once tickled the palates of a generation of Mughal emperors.

Nonetheless, the outdoor barbecue stands and choc-o-bloc tables did not smack of any regality. Delhites and European backpackers were unabashedly savouring every morsel of gosh curry and tandoori kebabs. Mohammed Iqbal, a cashier and waiter, ushered us in with the fervour of a close relative who has laid out a feast on a much-awaited family reunion. The waiters darted across the kebab stall and the restaurant cubicles in their flowing kurtas and deftly managed expanding queues of customers. As the dishes trickled in without peripheral seasoning or elaborate herbal toppings, I thought to myself “Boy, this feels like mama’s kitchen!”

The chicken burra was succulent, retaining an earthen flavour. The buttery naan dissolved in the mouth, while cashew paste and dates delicately laced the Karim bhej. Dollops of meat and boiled eggs were smattered on the biriyani. The chef had evidently mastered a delicate balance of sweetness and tanginess while dishing out the paneer sabzi. The chicken and mutton blended seamlessly in the kebab roast, compelling one to instantly asked for a second helping.

The beginnings

Zaeemudin Ahmed, the Director and one of the four partners of Karim Hotels, narrated how his forefather, Haji Noorimudin, weathered courtroom intrigues and the geopolitical manoeuvres of the colonials. At the zenith of the British empire, Bahadur Shah went into exile and Noorimudin, who happened to be Shah’s chef, fled the Red Fort and took shelter in Farooq Nagar. Little did Noorimudin know that his family would not be consigned to obsolete culinary annals and that his descendents would dish out Bahadur Shah’s favourite delicacies for diverse audiences.

His son Haji Karimuddin made his debut in the eatery business by opening a kiosk in front of the Jama Masjid way back in 1913. “He used to prepare only two dishes: Alu gosh and plain dal,” harked back Ahmed about his great-grandfather. After witnessing a spate of patrons, he set up a small restaurant using merely two vessels. “This is the very spot where he launched it,” said a nostalgic Ahmed, pointing towards a clutter of drying vessels.

Karim’s has now expanded across Delhi. When asked whether new branches in other metros were in the offing, he said, “My hands are full managing the existing business.” He added that Karimuddin’s recipes had been etched out on the hearts of his descendents and closely guarded like a family heirloom. All ingredients are only procured from the Kariboli market.

“We get 1,400 footfalls every day,” said Ahmed as he ushered me in and salaamed his guests with equanimity. Evidently, the raving reviews from global media such as Time magazine and international awards have hardly given Haji Karimuddin’s heir a snobbish rub-off.

It was surprising to find that Karim’s drew scores of youngsters even on a night of IPL finals. Arguably, little bastions in Old Delhi can thrive amid clusters of Subways and Starbucks.