The breadth and subtlety of Kashmir’s flavours are wafting on to plates in new and surprising ways
Only the plish-plash of the shikara’s oars broke the silence that engulfed us on a still, cold morning in Srinagar. The shikarawala kept up a steady pace in the inky darkness, and as the muezzin’s voice crackled into life over the mosque’s loudspeakers, we drew in to our destination: the famed floating market on Dal Lake. In a matter of minutes, the first few skiffs were rowed into the clearing. Manoeuvring deftly in tiny spaces, each one brought the produce of market gardeners who cultivate vegetables on the surface of the lake, displaying the resourcefulness of the Kashmiri people to turn water into ‘land’. When I saw the scene unfold for the very first time in my life—some 30 years ago—I thought, “Trust Kashmir to add oomph even to a sabzi market”.
This oomph is the defining characteristic of Kashmiri food, whose hallmark is the celebratory wazwan, the staple dishes of which are very well known. From methi, dhaniphol and kebabs among the starters to rogan josh, palak rista, tomato paneer, mirchi rista and gostaba in the main course, the meal is a feast for the senses. Take for instance the tabak maaz, or crisp fried ribs, which yield a surprisingly soft core, or the mirchi korma, a fiery yet intensely fragrant gravy that penetrates every fibre of the meat. Even chutneys have their own hierarchy, as Hayat Bhat of Ahdoo’s explains. “Onion chutney is the most common. Walnut paste, tomato paste and mashed pumpkin in curd require a little more expertise to prepare, with the zeresht (barberry) chutney being the five-star item.”
Every home cook in the region can turn out most of the dishes that make up the wazwan but rista and gostaba, with their arduous hammering of boneless cuts of meat, do need the skill of a traditional waza (master chef). Typically, a wazwan is only meant for celebrations, but growing wealth has made mini-wazwans fairly common. Restaurants in and outside the Valley serving this wide range of rich dishes and chutneys have made the feast practically synonymous with all Kashmiri cuisine.
Taking me around the cavernous kitchen of Ahdoo’s, which is now celebrating its 100th year, Bhat explains the wazwan’s underlying philosophy. “Every dish is made out of a single part of the sheep. The dhaniphol is just the hind leg. Methi is made from only the intestines. And the degchi korma is prepared from the fatty chest. Can you smell the tamarind?” Each dish is cooked using ingredients ranging from fruit like plums and apricots, to milk and reduced curd.
The Kashmiri Pandit counterpart of the wazwan is the saal. Both cuisines have much in common—including the primacy of meat. The differences tend to be subtle. The chief point of departure is that traditionally, Pandits did not consume onions and garlic and Muslims did not use asafoetida. Because Delhi has become the default domicile of the community, it has more Kashmiri Pandit restaurants and caterers than any other city. One such home cook is Rajni Jinsi (098990 08238), whose kitchen gleams with brass cooking and serving vessels that the family has carefully carried across homes in various cities across the country. “All our dishes have the gentle buzz of asafoetida,” she explains.
This richness of flavour is made possible by the variety of produce found in all four seasons. Contrary to popular perception, vegetables loom large in daily diets, with the quintessential Kashmiri vegetable haakh (collard leaves) grown all year round. In the spring, markets explode with wild greens: sotchal (mallow), kretch (knapweed), handh (dandelion), obuj (sorrel), lissa (amaranth) and nuner (purslane). “Food is cooked very simply so that vegetables shine,” says chef Thomas Zacharias of The Bombay Canteen in Mumbai, who was in the Valley recently. “I had makki ki roti with two very distinct wild greens cooked in a little mustard oil and water. In that kind of cooking, the flavour of the ingredients really comes through.”
While locals find it fashionable to pretend not to like these wild greens, chef Prateek Sadhu of Masque, Mumbai is attempting to bring these subtle flavours to discerning palates outside the state. His degustation menu features a tomato salad paired with mouth-puckering sorrel juice. “I’ve used sorrel in this fashion as a tribute to the meals from my childhood, when my mother would cook the leaves with tomato and chilli.” Sadhu, who incidentally is from Jammu & Kashmir, is flying wild greens in from there to serve to diners in Masque.
Also contributing to the distinct culinary landscape are shepherd communities like the Gujjars and the Bakarwals. They forage for wild honey, dried morels and use age-old techniques to produce Kalari, a cheese similar to mozzarella which is unique to Kashmir. Ramneek Kaur, whose family owns the historic Pahalgam Hotel , has set up a Bakarwal Women’s Cooperative where local women sell honey, rare morels and Kalari made in their homes at a fair price.
In summer, Srinagar is awash with peaches, plums and apricots. Autumn and winter bring their own bounties—apple, pear, cherry, walnut and almond orchards dot the landscape. “We make jam at Almond Villa from mulberry and quince that grow in our orchards, as well as from strawberries. All of these are organic, with no pesticides or preservatives used,” says Jyotsna Singh, the owner, who also plays host to a farmer’s market in summer.
Chef Sadhu had just returned from a foraging trip when we spoke, “We went to two different districts to search for morels—one in Kupwara near the border and the other in Shopian. After five hours, we returned with only six.” Within hours of scooping them up, these morels were simmering gently in milk flavoured with aromatic spices like cardamom and cinnamon. “The delicate flavour of the earth where they grow is heightened when they’re fresh; dried morels lose some of their magic,” he said.
Meanwhile for locals that are hankering for newer eateries that aren’t married to tradition, a host of new cafés including Books & Bricks Cafe (090184 88891) and Lacima Cafe are leading the charge when it comes to casual dining.
In Kashmir, there is a bread for every season, occasion and even time of the day. There are numerous kadurs, tiny local bakeries selling a range of freshly-baked produce. There are two kinds of bakers—the first, who bake in tandoors half submerged in the ground. They produce traditional breads like czot, czachworu, lavasa and bakarkhani. Others work with coal-red ovens to produce a variety of tea-time goodies, from fenis to puffs to kulchas, which are soft, buttery and topped with a layer of poppy seeds. Most of these breads are eaten with nun chai.
The new wave of food in Srinagar has seen the emergence of a string of prominent tea rooms and cafés. The nest of these is Chai Jaai (99068 97788), the brainchild of Roohi Nazki, housed in an old Raj-era building on the once-fashionable Bund. Not far from there is Zero Bridge Fine Dine and Café (095963 55455), housed in a clever prototype of a houseboat with an expansive lawn. For top- quality patisserie, there is Le Delice on the Boulevard (095965 88211) and Le Delice Café in Jawahar Nagar Clark’s Inn (95965 88211), founded by young Saqib Mir, who leads a team of local bakers to create lemon tarts and nancières that can easily match any Parisian patisserie.
The markets of Kashmir are a great place to enjoy the unique street food of the state. Khayam Chowk in Srinagar is home to a number of stalls selling mutton kebabs barbecued on a coal fire served along with various condiments and lavasa, a local bread. The more exotic eats are to be found around the Hazratbal Shrine—crunchy lotus stem fries covered in rice and chickpea our (nadru monje), fried freshwater fish (monji gaade) and dried vegetables in winter. Hot, sweetened parathas (halwa paratha), treats like melt-in-your-mouth rice puffs (laayeh) and candied wheat our dough (khandh gaziri) are a testament to the sweet tooth of the local people.
Any discussion about the food of the region would be incomplete without mentioning one of its most magnificent exports—saffron. Especially the kind that is grown in the fields of Pampore in the Pulwama district. Though the quantity is a mere tenth of what grows in Iran, the quality is said to be superior. The other spice grown in Kashmir is shah zeera or black cumin. “Shah zeera can easily be crushed between the thumb and fore finger, and is not sautéed in the beginning of the cooking process, but added to the cooked dish as soon as it is taken off the fire,” explains Sana Javeid of Dak Hermitage . Javeid is an embodiment of new-age tourism in Kashmir, which is seeing the rise of women in the homestay sector. “I have been running my mother’s Dove Cottage for the last two years and the biggest surprise is when our guests demand to be served simple, home-style kohlrabi with lamb or koftas made the Kashmiri way,” beams Beenish Shah.
From Chef Sadhu, who reimagines traditional dishes like chok charvan (chicken liver with tamarind) and gostaba for his menus, to chef Zacharias, a first time visitor, the Valley and its food are coming into their own in ways that would not have been possible even a decade ago.
Source : https://www.cntraveller.in/story/could-kashmir-be-the-next-gourmet-capital-of-india/
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