The Indian summer
Devanshi Mody checks out three restaurants heralding a new era of traditional food from our northern neighbour
require no accompaniments. So flavoursome, and ever so lithely textured, are arguably Colombo’s best tandoori roti, lachcha paraha and naan. Amazed at Chef Asharam’s breads so slim they hardly exist I query and learn that despite the constraints of being cost- effective in inflated Colombo, chef absolutely refused to work with substitute ingredients. Unlike other Indian chefs in conflict with local F&B managers, Chef Asharam is allowed premium Indian wheat flour which he has kneaded for almost an hour to attain those sublime textures.
To finish: until kulfis launch, gajar halwa gleams with cashews, almonds, raisins whilst clove- specked coconut payasam, if sweet, is authentic. However, my treat is marred by British tourists ululating, “Amazing, amazing!” with every single bite. tables and lentils. And consequently acquired state- specific nuances. Besides, if the biriyani evokes Nawabi or Nizami grandeur, then it permeated less lofty social strata once meaner ingredients partook. Thus, the biriyani undulates from regal to rustic.
Chef Chauhan also quips about the biriyani’s “modernisation.” If traditionally the biriyani is sealed in a “dum” clay pot seated between four coals, which imparts a smoky flavour, then convenience now demands the biriyani be oven-baked, at the relinquishment of the coal-fired flavour.
But Chef Chauhan, whose grandfather inaugurated the celebrated Bukhara restaurants the Clintons adore, delightfully elaborates repudiated a family army tradition to take not marching orders but tall orders, piled up like biriyani.
Pile tawny Delhi dhingri mushroom biriyani booming with garam masala. Doesn’t sound terribly exciting, but is the most haunting. More unusual is subtle kathal baby jak biriyani from Uttar Pradesh. Jak is oft considered unsophisticated, an incongruity in lavish biriyanis. But, fascinatingly, bumpkin vegetables refine themselves into a delicacy laced in luxurious green cardamom and cumin.
The celebrity biriyani is the royal Nizami special from Hyderabad. Savour subz zafrrani mellifluous with saffron, mace, aromatic herbs and redolent cooling agent kewda, not quite translatable into English.
Our Punjabi chef’s Punjabi Chharra aloo, basmati enclosing globes of spiced baby potatoes and spherical coriander seeds, lingers longly on the palate. Chef Chauhan rechristens a Rajasthani biriyani incorporating rods of gram flour gatta and chickpeas “Bela Moti,” bela being rolling-pin, “And don’t chickpeas resemble pearls (moti)?” Chef Chauhan beams at his similes.
There’s a biriyani “dedicated to boiled egg lovers,” selfprofessedly chef Chauhan himself, who also avows a passion for soya. Hence, the Soya & Almond Biriyani purportedly from Kashmir. I hadn’t thought soya especially Kashmiri, but this biriyani athrob with swollen almonds and mild herbs is quirky. Chef insists it’s a Kashmiri Pandit dish. He also insists the saffron and lagoon prawn biriyani is Pan-Indian.
The menu declares preparations are of “finest basmati,” although the basmati isn’t Indian.... Whole spices and saffron seem exiguous, but apparently finely ground. Yet one would rather the biriyanis didn’t grease- stain plates. But with new mango kulfi, the best I’ve had, Chef Chauhan extricates himself admirably from a sticky situation.
Navaratna perennially bulges like a dum-pot with regulars. Those who’ve pre-judged Colombo’s premier Indian restaurant forbiddingly priced avail of biriyanis from Rs.890 accompanied by raitas and salads that can feed two, even three (considerably cheaper than Rs 750 sandwiches at certain cafés). Portions portly enough to leave you pot-bellied!
Chef Pawan Singh may be persuaded to fabricate Bengali mishti dahi, a low-calorie yoghurt dessert interspersed with nuts and saffron. Take-away only. By special order only. Otherwise during Saturday Indian Night try cardamominfused gulab jamun- perhaps Colombo’s only ones worth having.