Sizzle on a Nawabi grill

The vegetarian kababs arrive first: the anar kabab with pomegranate, and the mewa mawa ki seekh , made with dry fruits and cream. But these are appeasements — Lucknavi food doesn’t offer vegetarians much. Ask Ustad Muslim Khan, who has travelled from Lucknow to Chennai to cook at Hyatt Regency’s Lucknow food festival, about the meatless options, and he can only respond with a helpless smile.

Lucknavi food has its own personality though it is a part of the Awadhi repertoire, explains Shobhan Kumar, Director of Food and Beverage, who hails from Lucknow. The Zafrani Murgh, Nizami Seekh Kabab and Galouti Kabab are typically Lucknavi, he says.

There is a vegetarian version of the galouti — a moong dal kabab marinated in whole spices and shallow-fried. After lamb, mushroom is best for a galouti kabab , says Ustad Khan.

We try the original, made with lamb. It’s soft, and comes apart easily, as a classic galouti should. My observation that it tastes mildly of uncooked besan (gram flour) is gently but firmly countered. Ustad says no besan goes into it — the meat is marinated in hung curd and raw papaya, and a little roasted chana dal is used for binding.

There may be little by way of vegetarian (and most of it potato) in kababs , but the chutneys are definitely interesting. Kumar calls on his staff to check whether they have the aam ka kuchchar , a crushed mango chutney. It’s not on the day’s menu, but we get to sample two others: the lahsun and pyaz (garlic and onion) chutney that is just a little shy of overpowering, and the vividly-coloured green-chilli and coriander chutney, which makes you wonder if it will dye your tongue green. We ingest it in tiny specks, lest the heat sets our tongue on fire, but the caution is unfounded. The bitterness of fresh coriander is a welcome dilution, and a hearty contrast to the rich and mild rotis served with the kababs .

Kumar takes us by surprise when he mentions the ‘ thanda masala ’ his mother used to flavour fish — another Lucknavi tradition. “ Thanda ?” we say. He explains that it’s like the opposite of garam masala , and made with sweeter spices such as cinnamon and fennel.

It’s the done thing to focus on kababs at Lucknavi/Awadhi food festivals, but my lunch companion and I enjoy the other offerings too. We take little bites of the sweet and aromatic bakarkhani roti . Kewra (screwpine) water, kala jeera (nigella) and aniseed flavour this soft bread made with milk and ghee. In Awadhi cooking, most of the rotis and kababs are made on lagans (large, shallow dishes used for big cuts of meat that need to be cooked from the top and the bottom), spitfires, and tawas — not the tandoor , which is more a legacy of the North-West Frontier. Chef Neeraj, who hails from a place close to Lucknow, has joined us by now. He says a cold room is an ideal place to make the rotis in, as the ghee solidifies and the dough absorbs it better.

Ustad Khan has us try some curries — Anari Fish (fish with fresh pomegranate), Diwani Handi (mixed vegetables), Sufiyana Paneer (julienned, fried paneer in gravy), Dal Maharani, Awadhi Gosht Korma, and dum biriyani . We have just a spoonful of each, preferring to stick to the bakarkhani . The biriyani impresses, though — it is fragrant with kewra , and so different from the Southern versions that have an excess of spice and tomato. We miss out on the sheermal , the sweet and saffron-infused roti , which is not on the menu that day.

Awadhi cuisine uses a lot of fried cashewnuts, fried onions, black cardamom ( badi elaichi ), rose petals, and cinnamon. Warq (thin sheets of gold and silver), too, to garnish, but thankfully, we encounter none of this tinny frippery.

The revelation of the day is white chilli powder. It does not have the bite of the red, says Neeraj, and, along with its yellow counterpart, is better suited for kababs . We ask to see and sample some. The yellow chilli powder is a dull orange, and the white is beige. Don’t be taken in by their purported mildness. Sniffing at either is a bad idea — I kept sneezing for several minutes.

It’s time for dessert, and we’re offered Muzaffar — sweetened fried vermicelli, speckled with tutti-frutti. It’s rather flat, with no other flavour to provide the high note. I have had various versions of this dish, and it is usually spiked with cardamom. We also taste litchi ki tahari , which is rather like a thin phirni flavoured with the fruit. My companion likes it, I don’t. But it has been a good lunch — and the bakarkhani made up for these minor disappointments.

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