ماضی کے معروف گلوکار مکیش-Historoy of Mukeesh


اپنی خوبصورت آواز سے شائقین موسیقی کے دلوں پر راج کرنے والے ہندوستانی گلوکار مکیش کی آج 38 ویں برسی منائی جا رہی ہے۔
ماضی کے معروف گلوکار مکیش بائیس جولائی 1923 کو لدھیانہ میں پیدا ہوئے، ان کا پورا نام مکیش کمار ماتھور تھا۔
ایک جلسے میں فلم اداکار موتی لال نے ان کی آواز سنی اور انہیں ممبئی لے گئے جہاں انہوں نے فلم 'پہلی نظر' میں مکیش سے گانا 'دل جلتا ہے تو جلنے دے' ریکارڈ کروایا۔
پہلی نظر کے بعد مکیش کی آواز فلمی نگری میں چھا گئی، ان کی ہٹ فلموں میں 'جس دیش میں گنگا بہتی ہے، سنگم، ملن، پہچان، شور، روٹی کپڑا اور مکان اور کبھی کبھی' جیسی فلمیں ہیں۔
خاص طور سے فلم 'کبھی کبھی' کے گانے 'میں پل دو پل کا شاعر ہوں' بہت مشہور ہوا، فلم 'تیسری قسم' کے گانوں 'سجن رے جھوٹ مت بولو، خدا کے پاس جانا ہے' بھی زبان زد عام ہوا۔
انہوں نے اپنی زندگی میں بارہ سو سے زائد گیت گائے جس پر انہیں فلم فیئر کے علاوہ کئی اہم انعامات و اعزازات سے نوازا گیا۔
مکیش نے اپنے ابتدائی دور میں ایسے رومانوی گیت گائے جنہوں نے انہیں بامِ عروج پر پہنچا دیا۔
المیہ اور طربیہ گیتوں نے مکیش کو اپنے وقت کا نامور پلے بیک سنگر بنا دیا، اسکرین پر دلیپ کمار، راج کپور اور راجیش کھنہ ہوتے تو آواز میں مٹھاس مکیش کی ہوتی۔
ستائیس اگست 1976 کو امریکا میں مکیش جہان فانی سے کوچ کر گئے اور یوں مکیش کی آواز کا دو دہائیوں پر محیط باب ختم ہو گیا۔
مکیش کے بیٹے نتن مکیش نے ان کی موت کے بعد ان کے فن گلوکاری کو زندہ رکھا اور کئی فلموں میں گیت گائے۔
اس کے بعد ان کے پوتے نیل نتن مکیش نے بھی بولی وڈ میں قدم رکھا لیکن وہ گلوکاری کی بجائے اداکاری کے میدان میں آئے تاہم مکیش کی کمی ہر دور میں محسوس کی جاتی رہے گی۔

How to Cock Bring on the Biryani ?

A whiff of the spicy aroma emits from a nearby stall, transporting the scavenger in me thousands of miles back to the homeland. My stomach grovels and reminds me that the hurried lunch taken in the afternoon hasbeen digested long ago. I crave for home and a plate heaped with steaming biryani. Memory and aroma intermingle to tantalise the palate.
I begin dreaming of my childhood, of the shiny aluminium pot on the stove, and the multi-coloured, rainbow-hued biryani gathering steam inside in deceptively delicious layers of rice, meat, spices, vegetables and garnishes — each layer hiding a secret ingredient, a treasure of exotic flavour. It used to be a labour of love, the preparation of which would take my mom the entire day, from morning to noon. Yet the result was worth the trouble; and for us, the anticipation and wait was worth the end result.
This was one lunch we used to look forward to as children, constantly visiting the kitchen, eyeballing the pot, appeasing our appetites, waiting for the men of the household to return after the Jumma prayers (when it used to be a weekly holiday on Fridays). Yet before we could enjoy our much anticipated meal, we would be asked to deliver two or three heaped plates of biryani, containing the meatiest portions, to our next door neighbours, and a distant relative living nearby. The neighbours would be eagerly looking forward to receive their share, as the aroma could be sniffed from blocks away.
And then there were the memories. My mother would recount her own fond food-related memories and experiences of living in a large mansion along with tons of cousins in Dhaka, Bangladesh. Her own mother, my grandmother, used to share the same kind of tales. Biryani has been a hot favourite for many generations and it's still going strong. The entire household would look forward to the weekends when the servants would cook the biryani and the respective lady of the house would supervise them in selecting, roasting and grinding the spices, mixing the saffron and kewara water. The secret recipes were transferred from one generation to the next.
Biryani is a dish of Persian descent, which has been adopted, adapted, and localised to the sub continental palate. The word biryani is derived from the Persian word beryâ(n) meaning 'fried' or 'roasted'. It is a delectable and delicate combination of spices, rice (finest quality), meat/vegetables and yoghurt, made palatable by the technique and intricacies of the making process. The rice has to be particularly boiled, the spices' combination has to be precise, the meat tender, and the gravy not too thick, the layers applied with care, and steam fully generated. Be it Bombay Biryani, Sindhi Biryani, Hyderabadi Biryani or even the Burmese, Arabic and Sri Lankan versions — each one unique and delicious in its own way, proving it just doesn't have regional but universal appeal. 
It is perhaps one of the few dishes in the sub continental culture which are served at home, in parties, at weddings, gatherings and even funerals. It is also served daily at the holy shrines, which act like a holy soup kitchen. The wealthy devotees regularly give money to shrines, which is utilised in cooking daighs of biryani for the langar (free food for the needy).
I also recall how, when we would lament the loss of the choicest meat portions to the neighbours, my mom would reply with conviction “We won't run out; sharing increases blessings.” The depth of this lesson sunk in only after I grew up and began cooking myself. It indeed seemed that the large biryani pot was forever overflowing; it seemed bottomless, brimming over with hospitality and warmth. Friends and relatives would drop in unannounced; a scavenger passing by would ask for a morsel and would get a plateful; and the maid's portion would be kept in the fridge, for her to take home when she would come after the weekend.
Over the years, convenience has crept into biryani's preparation like everything else. The tradition of grinding the mysterious gazillion spices has been replaced by ready-to-use packages accompanied with instructions and recipe.
Frozen meat gets preference over fresh, Saffron is long gone, Basmati rice has been replaced with cheaper rice, while the fragrant desi ghee has been tossed out in favour of vegetable oil and banaspatis (chemically processed shortening). Even the large pot has been traded in for lighter ones, but the preparation fervour is still intact. The sentiments and ceremony attached to biryani's preparation are the same and so is the act of sharing it with friends at home and colleagues in offices.
In fact, the pre-packaged biryani masalas are also a blessing for bachelors and South East Asians living abroad to get a taste of home and to reconnect with their roots. The biryani masala packs have also made biryani cooking a bit convenient and doable for young women like myself, who were far too busy in studies during their teens and didn't get a chance to learn the family's secret recipes. It was in my late twenties that I had the urge to rediscover my roots, the traditions, as I donned the apron which my mother put down. I cook for my family with my heart, and seek blessings through sharing my biryani. The magic still lives on.

How to Cock Hara masala biryani ?

-Photo by author
-Photo by author
Biryani, to love or to love a little more?
If you are from the subcontinent, foodie or not, you may have asked yourself this question: What is it about biryani that we love so much?
The legendary Mumtaz Mahal may be credited for the modern day biryani, she believed that it was a complete food and was thus suited best for troop consumption every night, during wartime and peace. That is the story on modern day biryani, but where did it actually originate?
The word biryani comes from the Persian word birian, which means frying the food before cooking it, and by cooking this writer implies the process of dum, the traditional method to make biryani. History suggests that the method of dum and the name comes from Arab or Persian style of cooking, and may have travelled to the Indian subcontinent from Persia through Afghanistan, or from ancient Arabia to Kerala through the Arabian Sea with Arab traders. Nonetheless in Persian, birian means frying before cooking, hence the method to cook biryani.
Today, we boil the rice before the process of dum but historically when biryani was prepared the unwashed rice was initially fried in butter orghee, before boiling. It was believed that frying the rice gave it a nutty flavor and also burnt the starch gelatinising the outer layer of the rice.
Separately, a lamb leg was set to sit in a marinade of curd, spices and papaya and then cooked to tenderness. Once the meat was cooked, it was layered with the half-cooked rice, garnished with droplets of rose water, saffron and mace, these spices gave it an almost flowery and royal essence, and then sealed in a handi and set on low flame until the rice was fully cooked and plumped, and ready to be served.
Biryani has variations from different regions of the subcontinent, all claiming that their twist on it is the best. Recent history of biryani dating to the 18th and 19th century tells us many a stories as to how the rice dish gained popularity far and wide in the region. Lucknow, was called Awadh and since the Mughuls were ruling at the time, the royal palace introduced us to the Awadhi Biryani. It is also said that before the advent of Mumtaz Mahal, the grand daughter-in-law of the great Akbar, he made Asfa Jahi the Nizaam of the great state of Hyderabad. The Nizaam wanted his state to own the royal dish thus, he had his kitchen give it a twist and the outcome is the legendary Hyderabadi Biryani. Tipu Sultan of Karnataka spread the biryani to Mysore, giving us the Mysoree Biryani, but the most special biryani may be the one that does not have meat, the nawabs of the region hired vegetarian cooks to create the meatless biryani and thusTahiri came into being.
The people of central Asia lay claim to this dish also and believe that it was Tehmur Lung who brought biryani to North India from Kazakhstan through Afghanistan.
Despite all the different twists to the dish, like the Sindhi Biryani with potatoes, the Memoni Biryani with teez masala, the Kacha Goshat Biryani that is cooked in garam masala spices without tomatoes and theBho-ri Biryani, very popular in Karachi and Bombay, it is actually Lucknow that lays ultimate claim to it. The Awadhi Dum Biryani is a gift that the Muslims of the Mughul era gave to the northern part of India. The specialty of the Awadhi Dum Biryani is that the meat is also half-cooked like the rice, and the dish is brought to cooking perfection through the dum pukthstyle of cooking, almost like the ancient times when berian was buried in the ground and cooked to perfection.
I want to share with you a twist on biryani called Hara Masala Biryani. It cooks to perfection; the taste is royal and the aroma Mughlai. I recently ate it at Imran Qureshi’s and Aisha Khalid’s house, in the historic city of Lahore. The first bite of this biryani put me in food heaven, and my gracious hosts offered me tips on this style of biryani, to which I added my love for food, experience, research and some ingredients, conjuring it up for a birthday dinner. It was an instant hit. Here it is from my kitchen to yours:
Hara Masala Biryani
Ingredients:
1 bunch cilantro (hara dhanya)
1 bunch mint (pudina)
10 serrano peppers (hari mirch)
15 blanched almonds (badaam)
2 ½ tbs coconut powder (narial)
1tbsp ginger garlic (lasan, adrak)
1 cup yogurt (dahi)
1 ¼ chicken (approximately 19 to 20 pieces)
3 medium size red onions (laal piyaz)
½ cup to 1/3 cup oil
Salt to taste
½ cup water
3 red potatoes
1 bay leaf
1 tbsp kewra water
½ tsp garam masala powder
2 mugs of Basmati rice
Method:
Slice onions thinly and fry in hot oil until golden brown, set aside half of the fried onions and add ginger garlic and chicken to the other half. Cook on high heat for a few minutes.
In a blender, blend cilantro leaves, mint leaves, green peppers, ½ cup water, blanched almonds, coconut powder, once blended add the green mixture, yogurt and salt to the chicken. Now add peeled and halved potatoes, cooking on high to medium heat, add a little water if masala looks to dry. Cook until oil separates and the chicken and potatoes are tender.
In a separate pot (colander) boil 8 to 10 mugs of water, adding bay leaf, 10 to 15 black peppercorns, 5 to 10 cloves, 5 green cardamoms, 1 black cardamom, 1 cinnamon stick bringing it to boil.
Now add pre-soaked rice to the boiling water keeping the rice to tender crisp phase, still offering resistance to the bite but cooked through, since we cook the rice completely in the dum phase.
Drain rice, layer the pot with rice, layer with chicken and masala, add the second layer of rice, sprinkle garam masala powder, fried onions, kewrawater, seal pot with foil and lid. Notching full heat for 5 minutes and medium to low heat for 15 to complete the dum.
Let sit for 10 minute, and serve.

How to Cock Gajar ka halwa ?

A little girl stood in the corner of her home terrace, devouring a plate ofGajar ka halwa, unaware of the peeping auntie from the house next door. Yes, I was a chubby little kid always ready to sneak Gajar or Chanay ke daal ka halwa. I remember my anticipation and excitement on noticing that Ami was getting ready for siesta, and Jalal our telltale cook had closed his kitchen too. Time for me to glide to the freezer, take a small frozen portion of Gajar ka halwa and heat it to edible perfection in the January of Karachi. Yes, it was the early 80s and I was a pre-teen. This was my afternoon romance with Gajar ka halwa, and it lasted for just a season, and the reason? Shamshaad auntie’s Chinese whispers to Ami.
Delightfully delicious, that’s the only way to describe Gajar ka halwa. Who thought of adding sugar, milk and ghee to carrots, simmering it until the milk dried and serving it as a delectable dessert? Legend has it that the Sikhs from Punjab introduced it to the house of the Mughals. The Emperors enjoyed its vibrant colour, flowery aroma, and slightly chewy texture, and it gained popularity far and wide spreading sweetness throughout the empire.
Halwa finds its roots in the Arabic language and refers to many dense or compact desserts. Originally halwa was either flour based or used various nuts with sugar, milk and butter to create a sweet gelatinous, or hardened nutty dessert. It is commonly believed that this kind of halwa was introduced to the settlers in India through trade with the Middle East and Asia Minor during the expansion of the Mughal Empire.
The Mughal Empire was spreading, and international traders were bringing in intriguing new goods for exchanges, barter and purchase and the orange carrot is said to be one such treasure. Carrots were originally purple in colour and were indigenous to Afghanistan for almost 5000 years. They came in colours such as red, yellow, black and white, but not orange, until the 17th century when the horticulturalists in the Netherlands decided to honour William of Orange, from the House of Orange, by creating an orange carrot. Though many believe that it was a coincidence; and the orange colour was a mutation of the red and yellow carrot and had no significant link to the Royal House of Orange. This new orange carrot was sweeter, prettier and of a non-sticky variety, making it popular amongst the cooks.
The Mughal Empire was at its zenith, a dynasty that was splendid and modern and looking for trade with the rest of the world. This orange carrot had already spread far and wide to Europe, Middle East, and of course now South Asia with the coming of the Dutch East India Company to the sub-continent in the 17th century.
The cooks in the subcontinent liked the new imported carrot and the sweetness that came with it, and since it was an era when new cuisines were being developed by expert chefs and connoisseurs, this kind of carrot seemed to be of a perfect variety to be tried as the main ingredient in the halwa, with sugar, milk and butter, sans the flour and nuts.
The province of Punjab apparently took an instant liking to it, and started developing innovative new recipes, sweet and savory. It was a vegetable that peaked as a winter harvest and its abundance in the glorious winters nudged the cooks to develop a hot delicious dessert best served any time of the day, before or after a meal, or as a side with chai or dodhpati.Gajar ka halwa was an instant hit all over the Indian subcontinent, from pauper to prince.
The shared food heritage between Pakistan and India is fascinating, we share the same food stories and love the same foods and can rightfully both lay claim to most foods as our own. This not only makes for a delightfully interesting dinner conversation with friends, but also makes for a common ground to share family recipes and stories. Luckily for me, one of my closest friends, Sumbla Tufail, makes the best Gajar ka halwa in the world. I have been devouring it for the past 13 winters without having to look over my shoulder for a peeping auntie. Sumbla graciously shared her mother’s recipe with me, and upon making it myself I beckoned my 11-year-old for the tasting. Nothing like reliving a moment through one’s own child; as she excitedly complimented, “mom, this is the best Gajar ka halwa in the world!’ Here it is, from my kitchen to yours.
Gajar ka halwa (serves 10 to 12)
Ingredients
2 ¼ lbs carrots (orange)
1.60 to 1.80 liters of milk
½ pint half and half
1/3 pint heavy whipping cream
1 ¾ cups sugar
2 to 3 tbsp butter (unsalted)
¼ cup oil
8 to 10 cardamoms
1 tbsp raisins
2 tbsp blanched and chopped almonds
Method
Lightly peel and grate carrots and set aside. Bring milk to boil and add carrots, let milk and carrot mixture come to boil, then add half and half and sugar, stirring constantly.
Keep stirring until the mixture comes to a boil, reducing heat to medium. Once the milk evaporates (should take 1 ½ to 2 hours) add heavy cream, stirring constantly.
Once the cream evaporates add butter, oil and cardamoms stirring constantly, keeping the flame medium to high. Keep stirring until oil separates, and the colour is a rich beautiful deep orange.
Garnish with raisins and almonds and serve.
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How to Cock Nihari

If you are a true Karachiite, you’ll know about a Botal gali. I was a frequent visitor of the street, for as a child I suffered from a nursemaid’s elbow and any tug or play of my arm would result in the dislocation of the radius (elbow joint). Each time I got the rag doll arm Abbo took me to Botal galito the humble home of the gentle pehlwan (wrestler), a pro at gently nudging my elbow back in position. The pehlwan massaged a red pasty balm onto my arm, wrapped it in big green leaves and further covered it in muslin bandage. It was the 70s; Karachi was laid back and fabulous, the weekends were on Thursdays and there I was at Botal gali, a happy little wounded warrior. Being in the area, Abbo would often head on over afterwards to Sabri Nihari near Aram Bagh. And that is where I was first introduced to the majestic Nihari.
Nihari has a flavourful depth so deliberate that one can almost taste the unhurried and intentional consideration gone into putting the ingredients together. Therefore, the claim that Nihari is a derivation from the study ofHikmat (Eastern herbal medicine) comes as no surprise, not only was its consumption preventive against sinus, the common cold and the onset of fever in the winters of Delhi and Lucknow, it also gained popularity as a food that kept one warm during dropping temperatures.
The extravagant Nihari was initially served as breakfast to the rich Muslim Nawabs of pre-partition India, but the high classes soon realised that this rich thick curry, laden with tender chunks of veal and beef, slow cooked to perfection in the bone stock of shank meat had to be worked off once eaten, and who better to work it off but the labourers who were busy building India; one hawelimahalsadrak and railway station at a time.
The word Nihari comes from the Arabic word Nahar which means morning, thus the very name Nihari implies it is to be consumed early in the morning. Nihari is rumoured to have taken birth either in the back alleys of the Jamia Masjid in Delhi, where the Dehliwallas hail from, or as most Lucknawi loyalist believe in the kitchens of the Nawabs of Awadh, in the latter part of the 18th century at the decline of the Mughal Empire.
Legend suggests that the Empire and the ‘powers that be’ realised that this rich slow-cooked beef delicacy was the reason the Nawabs of Lucknow would take an indulgent nap between Fajr (morning) and Zohr(early afternoon) prayers. They ate Nihari for breakfast, especially in the winters and just slept it off. And, since the rich have been known to come up with innovative ways to work the poor, they decided to feed this delicacy to the labour class at construction sites as regular breakfast in lieu of ujrat (earned daily wages), the otherwise precious earnings after a hard days work. The high protein meat allowed for a progressively slow increase in blood sugar and therefore resulted in decreased cravings through the day. This practice continues to date; the labourer still eats Nihari early in the morning to sustain him through the day, and the wealthy for a weekend breakfast or as an indulgent dinner.
Historically, Nihari was cooked through the night for six to eight hours, and was ready to be served at sunrise. It was most delectable when cooked with veal or beef shank, though now mutton and chicken Nihari is popular too. Another variation in Nihari is the extra kick of magaz (brain) and nali(marrow) this is a special edition of Nihari. Real foodies consider it sacrilege to have Nihari sans the spare parts.
The method to cook Nihari has survived and remains somewhat similar to the early days. At the time, the lid of the daigh (large rounded pot) was sealed shut with lai (flour glue) to maintain maximum heat and steam for slow cooking. The meat was braised and then left to simmer in the aromatic and delightfully spicy essence of masalas. Gently, the meat soaked the flavour of the masalas as the masalas infused the heartiness of the meat; it was almost like one seducing the other ... to create magic.
A story that caught my fancy is one that my husband tells frequently. He visited Delhi in the 80s and made a trip to the old city of Delhi behind Jamia Masjid where the Nihariwallas cook, sell and tell Nihari stories with a passion. My husband’s cousin, who hails from Delhi took him to the oldest Nihariwalla in the city, on cue a behra arrived and while serving the Nihari special chatted away, claiming that they were all about to taste history! He explained that it was tradition that every day a small bowl of Nihari was saved to be poured into a fresh daigh of Nihari the next morning. He claimed, as did the head cashier, that the tradition had continued for time immemorial. I do not know the name of the restaurant or the authenticity of the story but to food romantics; the narrative carries tremendous historical splendour.
It was only natural then that I would undertake this herculean challenge. At first, I turned to my momani (maternal aunt) for her Nihari recipe only to discover that what we had been praising was actually prepackaged masala Nihari. The next stop was my lovely neighbourhood friend who makes fabulous homemade Nihari but brews it for two and a half days, that was too time consuming! So the intervention felt pretty divine when I stumbled upon Shazli Aunty’s Nihari recipe in a handwritten recipe book she had presented to me as my wedding present. Here it is, from my kitchen to yours.
Nihari
Ingredients (serves 10 to 12)
Masala 1
1¼ cup oil
5 lbs veal or beef shank with bone
Salt to taste
3 tsp garam masala powder
3 tsp red chili powder
4 tsp coriander powder
1½ tbsp ginger
1½ tbsp garlic
1½ tsp turmeric powder
6 tbsp white flour
2 medium onions, sliced (1/4 to 1/3 cup oil for frying onions)
Nihari Masala Spices 2 (Grind to a fine powder)
2 sticks peepli
2 ½ tbsp coriander seeds
½ tsp mace powder
½ tsp nutmeg powder
2 bay leaves
2 cinnamon sticks
4 black cardamoms
20 cloves
10 green cardamoms
1 tsp cumin seeds
1 tbsp black peppercorns
4 tbsp fennel seeds
¼ tsp anise seeds
Garnish (Chopped)
Fresh cilantro Fresh green chili Ginger Lemons Fried onions
Method
Heat oil, braise meat evenly on high heat for a few minutes, add masala 1 ingredients to the meat, with the exception of flour and onions, and cook on high heat until the meat is evenly coated.
Add 10 glasses of water to the meat, then dissolve flour in four glasses of water and add to the meat, ensuring that the meat is completely immersed in the water, add more if required and bring to boil.
Add finely powdered nihari masala 2 to the boiling mix. Lower the heat to medium and let it simmer for six to seven hours. Fry the onions until golden brown, then add to the Nihari and cook for another 15 to 20 minutes.
Garnish and serve with hot naan.

How to Cock Sarson ka saag / Makki ki roti

Nothing is more deliciously aromatic than a mother’s love, a close second to it is perhaps the smell of land, more uniquely mera aur tera gaon (our village), the one we all originate from, the one our forefathers left behind when they moved from those glorious green pastures for greener pastures still.
I believe all our gastronomical experiences and the sensory emotions they evoke are a reflection of our childhood experiences, and my first memory of the endless fields of yellow flowers of sarson kay kaith (mustard fields), is of unadulterated childlike awe. We were driving from Karachi to Rawalpindi through Tarinda, a village in Punjab, when I saw an impressive black bull wearing a black crow on its head like a crown, standing in a field of gold.
I vividly remember exclaiming, “black gorilla and black crow standing inside yellow flowers,” I was three, life was full of possibilities and my first meal of sarson ka saag and makkai ki roti was just around the corner.
Nothing is more quintessentially Punjab than sarson ka saag and makkai ki roti, it’s an earthy hearty food abundant in flavour, nutrients and colour; much like the land and the people it belongs to. Picture fields of golden yellow flowers on the foothills of the magnificent Himalayas, the regionsarson has been indigenous to for more than 5 millenniums. Sarson is a winter and spring fare and its seasonal abundance in Punjab, on both sides of the Wagah, makes it a Punjabi favourite for the rustics and the urbanites alike.
Sarson ka saag is a vegetarian delight made from the leaves of the mustard plant, the same plant that gives us the delicious condiment mustard. The desi (colloquial term for things, people and a way of life from the subcontinent) mustard green, grown in Pakistan and India is a smooth flat textured leaf, but another variety includes a crumpled frilly leaf, spunky in look but earthy in taste. Historically, sarson ka saag, was generally the rural people’s food in Punjab and the robust homemade butter-toppedsaag fit the hardworking lifestyle of the village people laboriously working the agricultural lands of the fertile province. They almost always justified and propagated the consumption of desi ghee (clarified butter), desi makhan (butter), lassi (yogurt drink), desi paneer (cottage cheese) andchaahch (buttermilk), and this practice has since carried to urban Punjab. A rich cuisine it may be, but its pure, farm fresh and organic composition makes it a winner in the world of engineered and preservative laden food.
The nutritious content of sarson ka saag and makkai ki roti is why mothers fed it to their children, “mothers know best, for generations they have been cooking this Punjabi favourite, and for good reason,” said Ramesh Chander, a Jalandhar-born and raised Punjabi, who now runs a very successful vegetarian restaurant chain in the US.
As I was chatting with him his lovely wife who I affectionately call auntie, she offered me a plate of freshly cooked sarson ka saag as Ramesh Uncle continued to say, “these leaves give you great strength and makkai ki roti is a great accompaniment; it is gluten free and has a unique sturdy texture when cooked. Roti (bread) made with the flour of freshly harvested corn was always available in the winters of Punjab, since corn is cultivated in Punjab, and our forefathers bought it home from the fields for the woman folk to grind in the chakki (grinder mill) to make corn flour.”
Traditionally, the real sarson ka saag is cooked sans masala, just a dash of salt and ginger, mixed in with the greens; mustard greens, green chilli, spinach, bathuaor mithi (pigweed and fenugreek). And the real cooks, our mothers and grandmothers, who follow the age-old family recipe without the modern touch to suit contemporary lifestyles, still cook it the same way. It was said to be slow-cooked and hand stirred in its own water until it reached the desired edible creaminess of freshly churned butter, and then laden with fried onions and topped with farm fresh butter and devoured for simple goodness.
People hailing from Uttar Pradesh shallow fry sarson and top it with tomatoes and yogurt to overwhelm its strong peppery and bitter taste, an entirely different style of cooking. Sarson has an almost pungent taste to it and is therefore cooked in the company of other greens, broccoli, radish, spinach, pigweed, fenugreek and at times turnip.
So, when it came time for me to make sarson ka saag and makkai ki roti, I turned to none other than Anjum Khala. She has been making saag for our clan for more than 50 years, and proudly and rightly claims that the lesser the ingredients the better it is. Though Khala currently lives in Faisalabad, the recipe is her mother-in-law’s who lived in Rupnagar, pre-partition India, and in turn had learnt this real Punjabi saag from her own mother-in-law. I can therefore rightfully claim that it is a family recipe going back to the later part of the 19th century. I could not find pigweed, which is an ingredient in my Khala’s original recipe, but Ramesh Uncle suggested a secret ingredient to enhance the flavour of the saag.
The original rural recipe is slow-cooked to creamy delight though I predictably took an urban shortcut, and the outcome was a deliciously rich and rustic delight, and the proof was in the pudding as my 13-year-old happily came for a second helping. Here it is, from my kitchen to yours.
Sarson ka saag (serves 8 to 10)
Ingredients
4 lbs mustard greens (chopped with stem)
2 lbs spinach
2 lbs pigweed (if available)
½ cup water
1 tsp brown sugar or 1tsp jaggery (secret ingredient)
5 to 7 serrano peppers
Salt to taste
1 inch piece of ginger
2 tbsp corn flour dissolved in ¼ cup water
2 large sliced onions and 1 tsp chopped garlic (fried in ¼ cup oil for garnish)
A dollop of butter per serving, if desired
Method
Pour ½ cup water and mustard greens in a large pot and cover and simmer for 15 to 20 minutes, add spinach, salt, sugar, peppers, ginger and pigweed (if available) and cook for another 15 to 20 minutes. Put in blender to roughly blend, add dissolved corn flour and cook for a few minutes. Garnish and serve.
Makkai ki roti (makes 12 to 14)
Ingredients
4 cups corn flour
2 ½ to 3 cups warm water
4 tbsp chopped cilantro (optional)
2 finely chopped serrano peppers (optional)
Salt, if desired
Oil, as needed
Method
Add warm water to flour, knead dough adding cilantro and pepper. Make round portions and flatten to roti on parchment paper. Heat pan with a teaspoon of oil and transfer roti with parchment paper, remove paper and flip roti for 2 to 3 minutes on each side until golden, serve hot with a dollop of butter.

How to Cock Pulao

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This may just be my dearest food story yet, for my mother made legendary pulao, and while researching this story I stumbled upon information that has made it even more personal.
The aromatic effervescence of fennel, coriander seeds and onions cooking in mutton yakhni (stock) takes me to a time of wonder years. Days when I thought that my dearest parents would live forever and all Friday lunches in the world would be spent eating pulaoshami kabab and chukandar raita (beetroot yogurt), sitting around a table of laughter, reprimands, family history lessons and character building. Yes, those days were cut short but the joy of cooking have remained a constant; for now I am a parent, and children, siblings, family and friends still gather around the table to eat pulao made with my sweet mother’s recipe.
Pulao is a fairly universal food; gathering most world cuisines in its embrace. Ancient conquests and nomadic shepherds were instrumental in spreading this Islamic aura centerpiece dish to all corners of the old world. History relays that the chef d'oeuvr of Persian kitchens was goat and sheep pulao and it transformed to an elegant dish as it travelled from the campfires of hardened nomadic shepherds to the courts of the caliphs.
The Persians cooks let the rice sit in salted water for several hours so it would shimmer like crystals, and expected the rice to plump to perfection in the boiling meat stock. They rejected the quality of the rice and pulao if it clumped up or became sticky. Centuries later Tavenier, a French traveller and cultural anthropologist observed that the best rice suited to make pulao was cultivated southwest of Agra. It plumped to perfection, with each grain separate and fluffy, perfect for making pulao.
Pulao is supremely aromatic and its exquisite usage of elegant spices makes it a very sophisticated dish. It’s this very subtle elegance that played a key role in spreading it to the world at large. From ancient Persia it spread far and wide to the entire Muslim world and beyond. The Spanish added a host of seafood to it, infused it with saffron and called itpaella, the Turks referred to it as pilav, and the Latin race from Italy called it risotto.
Babur arrived in the subcontinent and abhorred the cuisine, he was used to a hearty meat-based nomadic shepherds diet, and hailing from central Asia the pulao was a fundamental repertoire to any central Asian kitchen. The cultural mesh of Persia, central Asia and India gave birth to an offshoot of pulao, the wonderful biryani; it was in the Mughal kitchens that the elegantly subtle pulao was introduced to the Indian spices giving birth to the delightfully fiery biryani; but that is another food story in itself.
The chefs in Lucknow prided in making the fragrant pulao and maintained that the sophistication of the dish was in its subtlety of flavours, where the floral essence of the rice was enhanced by the gentle fragrance of fennel and coriander seeds. The nawabs inherited their cuisine from the Mughal courts, and legend suggests that Awadhi cooks famously fed the domestic fowls musk and saffron so when they cooked the lavish bird its fragrance permeated haveli to haveli (mansion to mansion), speaking of luxury.
The elite cooking of Pakistan and India expresses its central Asian, Turkish, Afghan and Persian roots, but we cannot ignore that its nourishment and beauty was epitomised because of spices, cultures and races indigenous to the region. The subcontinental food is unique and has evolved over centuries to become what it has today, rich, vibrant and flavorful.
The surviving pulao recipes as relayed in books written by scholars from centuries past suggest the usage of very few spices; the four wholegaram masalas, namely (black cardamom, cloves, cinnamon, black peppercorns), ghee (clarified butter) coriander seeds, cumin, fennel seeds, onions, ginger and garlic. But the real oomph came from preparing the goat, sheep or fowl yakhni (meat stock), and then straining it through mulmul (muslin) cloth, and cooking the rice in the deliciously subtle stock. Once the rice was almost fluffed in the broth, the pot was sealed shut and steam cooking was initiated until completion.
The earliest mention of a dish named pilaf can be found in the transcripts of the history on Alexander the Great. It is believed that the young Greek conqueror enjoyed the reception he received at the hands of the locals of Bactria. The military forces accompanying Alexander savoured the Bactrian dish of rice and meat, and took the recipe back with them to Greece and voila, we have the Mediterranean Pilaf.
Pilaf’s arrival in Greece initiated its spread to Eastern Europe and it entrenched itself permanently into most cuisines of the ancient world. And at this point in my research, I found myself looking for a map of Bactria, and to my amazement sitting in the centre of Bactria was a city names Termez. It gave me pause, and in that moment of discovery my emotional connection to pulao became even deeper.
Armed with this deep connection, I recalled eating pulao every Eid-ul-fitr. It was cooked by Nani Amma and served onto our plates as she sat on apeeraa (low wicker stool) and we lined up for the treat. Their were arguments amongst cousins as to who got the best boti (meat), but there was always enough to go around. Nani Amma, Bibi Jamila made the perfect pulao as did my dear mother, Naheed Tirmizi, and being a food romantic and a writer I cannot help but create a link between, Termez, Bactria and the legendary pulao makers that run in my family. Here it is, from my kitchen to yours.
Pulao
Ingredients (serves 4 to 6)
2 1/4 to 2 1/2 lbs mutton, small pieces (preferably goat leg or shoulder meat)
1 1/2 tbsp fennel seeds
3 tbsp coriander seeds
2 large onions
1 tsp garam masala powder
1 tsp cumin
1/4 to 1/2 cup oil
8 1/2 mugs water
2 mugs rice
Salt to taste
1 1/2 tbsp yogurt
1 tsp fresh ginger (chopped)
1 tsp fresh garlic (chopped)
Method
Slice one large onion in fours quarters, add mutton, coriander seeds, fennel seeds, salt to taste and water, bringing to boil and reducing heat to medium until mutton is cooked and stock (yakhni) is reduced to half its original quantity (4 1/4 mugs).
Remove mutton pieces from stock (yakhni), and strain stock thoroughly through sieve, discarding the drained fennel, coriander and onions. In a large pot, pour oil and brown thinly sliced onions. Once the onions are golden brown add mutton, ginger, garlic, garam masala powder, cumin, salt to taste and yogurt, stir on high heat for a few minutes.
Now add mutton stock, and bring to boil on a high heat, adding pre-washed rice. Maintain high heat until the rice fluffs and the stock is just a thin layer on the top.
Taper heat to low and seal the pot initiating the dum (steam cooking) method. Let it sit on a low heat for 30 minutes. And, your perfect pulao is ready.
Beetroot (chukunder) Raita
Take two beets, discarding the stems. Boil until cooked. Remove from water, peel and slice julienne.
In a bowl whisk 2 to 2 1/2 mugs yogurt, add 1/2 cup washed and chopped onions, salt, a pinch of black pepper powder, 2 chopped green chillies, add the beets, sprinkle with chopped mint and cilantro and serve withpulao.

How to Cock Chapli kabab

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My cousin was a cadet at the Kimari Naval Base, and most of his weekends were spent at our home. The best part of his visit was the drop off to the Kimari Naval Base in the night, for on the way back my parents invariably made a stop at thedhaaba, where the garam naanand chapli kabab became a staple Saturday night dinner.
Come every Saturday morning, when I heard Azim bhai ring the doorbell my anticipation for the dinner that night would start. I could taste the flavour of the anardana and tomatoes wrapped in hot naan, the thin layer of fat on the roof of my month, and thus my belief that there is no better kababthan the authentic Peshawari chapli kabab; and here is its story.
The kabab, like most of the Food Stories covered, also has an ancient history. It has traveled far and wide through regions, times and people and has a universal appeal. Undoubtedly the most recognised eastern food in the western part of the world, it has remained a favourite with desis, middle easterners, Arabs, central Asians and Caucasians alike.
It is believed that the Turkish and Persian soldiers enjoyed grilling fresh meat on fire, while it hung wrapped on their swords. The meat chunks were cooked in animal fat and once ready were consumed immediately by soldiers who hunted for survival while journeying land to land for conquests.
Kababs have always been a rustic favourite; and while they were said to be a prominent part of the Moghul menu, the variation of the modern daychapli kabab is a purely Pakhtun take on the kabab.
The word kabab is said to originate from the Arabic language, but the Persians, Turks and central Asians also lay claim to it. It means to fry, burn or cook on a skewer through grilling or open fire cooking. Kababs in the west are mostly served on a skewer or donar kabab with a side of pilaf or middle Eastern pita bread. Though in the subcontinent, there are more than a dozen popular kabab recipes; shami, boti, seekh, bihari, galavatiall come a close second to the Peshawari chapli kabab.
The province formerly known as NWFP and the eastern region of Afghanistan can proudly lay claim to the spicy flat meat beef patty, however, it stands as a favourite throughout Pakistan and India. Though some kababs are made using sheep, lamb, chicken or goat meat, thechapli kabab is a purely beef, and at times lamb fare. Chaprikh is a Pashto word meaning flat, and chapli is a derivation of this particular word; hence a flat round kabab. The Pakhtun recipe uses a perfect combination of beef and atta (wheat flour), thus this kabab in particular is lighter in taste.
The ingredients used in the preparation of chapli kababs are indigenous to Afghanistan therefore the use of pomegranate seeds and dry coriander seeds, which make the chapli kabab so unique in taste. The outcome is perfect on the palate and thus the region and the original chapli kababmakers deserve the highest grade on sharing this delicious local classic with the rest of the world.
The recipe I share with you today is Shaista Auntie's, my mother-in-law, who spent her early days in Peshawar; as authentic as it gets. Here it is, from my kitchen to yours.
Chapli Kabab
Ingredients (makes 11 to 13 kababs)
1 lbs ground beef
4 tbsp whole wheat flour
1 medium onion, chopped
1 tsp chillie powder
1 tsp cumin
1 tsp garam masala powder
salt to taste
4 tbsp fresh cilantro
2 green chillies, chopped
1 tbsp coriander seeds crushed
½ egg
1 tsp anardana [pomegranate seeds]
1 tbsp oil
½ tsp baking powder
2 medium tomatoes, chopped
Oil for frying
Method
Mix ingredient in a large bowl, make flat patty, and shallow fry to enjoy withnaan and dahi.