SUJAY GUPTA
Fine meats, grilled, roasted and pounded, seasoned with
saffron and yoghurt, perfected over 500 years to feed royalty, demanding and
irritable, who wanted tastes and dishes curated to handle their own
deficiencies like the absence of teeth. Left to themselves, the nawabs of
Lucknow would have ordered their bawarchjis
or rakabdars (master chefs) to infuse
the finest flavours of mutton into meats that did not need teeth to bite into
or digestive tracts to digest. The formula was simple, flavour without fuss.
But Lucknawi or Awadhi cuisine is all about fuss. And the
Goan palate, which savoured all pretences of restaurants showcasing the food of
the North West Frontier provinces, did need the real flavour of nawab land here and that too with all
its fuss.
And it’s just as well that this ‘you blink and you miss’
roadside kerb restaurant – Firangi Nawab – has been in existence for the past
two years in a manner so unobtrusive that it eluded sharp nosed sniffers of
good food like yours truly. It resonates with the flavours and the andaaz (there is no English word good
enough to do justice to this Urdu word ‘andaaz’).
But the closest one gets to it is ‘attitude’, a way of life, a raison d’etre
for fine living. And even in the times of restriction and beef bans, Lucknow is
holding on to its andaaz and showing
other parts of India what this is all about.
An opening paragraph from the New York Times published way
back in 1990 sets the tone of what the Lucknow way of life is, even to the
foreign traveller. “KABOBI-SHARABI is
an old Urdu (the language of Moguls in India) expression. Literally, it means
‘one who loves grilled meat (kabob) with wine (sharab)’. In a broader sense, it is ascribed to anyone who
appreciates good living and delights in gastronomic pleasures. Ask any kabobi-sharabi for the best in the world
for kabobs and he will invariably
point to Lucknow, the capital of Northern Province and the home of the great
Nawabi culture.”
The centre of attraction was obviously the chefs. Wooed,
coaxed and lured from their home lands in the frontier provinces and further
west in Afghanistan and Persia, they were treated like kings and they gave back
by making feasts fit for kings. The royals in Lucknow slowly started dwindling
over time, but the spirit of royalty in the recesses and galis of Aminabad and Chowk resonated in the old walls.
Mujeeb Qureshi is a chip off this old block. As a boy, he
played in the streets of Aminabad in Lucknow and grew up watching food being
prepared. His family had a small restaurant, which is as Lucknawi as one can
get. Games of cricket and kite flying were interspersed with biriyani and kebabs. Or was it the other
way round?
When you grow from child to boy to man in these parts, the kakori and chapli kebab, the galavati
and the boti and the chicken kali mirch and the soft scented biriyani are the electrons that spur
you. The boy, Mujeeb, eventually left his nest in Lucknow and moved to various
parts of the world. Like in the time of the nawabs, the demand for good chefs
never dies. And at each pit stop, the finesse and the culinary art got
chiselled to perfection.
He then undertook a journey which wasn’t planned but became
his most meaningful. While in Bombay, a Goan friend encouraged him to come here
and start a Lucknawi restaurant. He simply followed his heart and his friend’s
advice. And has no regrets. And we know why.
He has brought Aminabad to Tonca. The slightly elongated
sausage shaped kakori kebab is the
piece de resistance. As he says, it’s not about the meat but how you cut it.
For this the shoulder of the lamb works best with crushed nuts, almonds mainly,
and then adding a multitude of spices like cinnamon, clove and nutmeg and one
would reckon saffron too. It’s then grilled over skewers and you have a dish
fit for a king even if he has no teeth.
The galavati
kebabs look like little pebbles made of soft meat with spices that are both
common to the kakori and also some
that are not. They are placed on top of miniature one centimetre radius roti
bread. Galavati, literally meaning
‘melt in your mouth’, had its origins in the firman (diktat) of Wajid Ali Shah, the Nawab of Kakori near Lucknow
(from where the Kakori gets its name) who wanted another kebab where he didn’t
have to use his teeth. This is flat and has more spices with the liberal use of
ginger and red chillies.
The signature Lucknow dish, the lamb or beef boti kebab, curried meat with fine
flavours goes well with roomali roti
(thin flaky handkerchief bread). And lest you wonder, the B word is indeed
here. Biriyani. And when it’s
Lucknawi, it’s always lamb. Mujeeb manages to source the finest lamb from
Margao and he does the cuts himself. The rice itself has a flavour and not
dominated by the meat, and the saffron and the green chillies give it the edge
missing in all other biriyani made in
Goa.
This is work in progress because going through the menu
takes months. But this is a broad signpost that Awadhi food is here and how.
Adaab! Kuch jalebi aur rabri ho jaye (let’s
sign off with jalebis and rabri sweets for dessert).
