Instinctively, the two words that float to an American’s mind (or any Westerner, for that matter) when thinking of Indian foods are “spices” and “curry.” Mavis Parker, 75, is a traditional Midwesterner from Brookings, South Dakota, who was never exposed to Indian food. On the other hand, Mathew McClelland, 38, is a cosmopolitan New Yorker, who eats it often.
Still, they share a similar perception about Indian cuisine. They both associate it with its piquancy, as emblematized by the “curry.” A section in Manhattan — where First Avenue intersects with East Sixth Street — has such a high density of Indian restaurants that it was christened “Curry Row.”
Sure, it is impossible to think of a well-stocked Indian kitchen without its jars of spices, but it is hardly fair to paint an entire nation’s ethnic culinary tradition—and one as large and diverse as India’s — with one spicy stroke. The giant of South Asia (geographically speaking) boasts a rich, eclectic culinary heritage with a 6,000-year-old history and roots that spread from Portugal to Persia.
Located on the banks of the Gomati River and situated roughly 300 miles northeast of New Delhi, Lucknow (erstwhile Avadh)—the capital city of India’s most populous state, Uttar Pradesh — is also the home of the famed “Avadhi” cuisine that dates back to the resplendent era of the nawabs. They were the provincial governors dispatched by the Mughal emperors around 1720 A.D. for the efficient and easy administration of an unwieldy Islamic empire, in the days of pre-British India.
Just as 16th century Florence flourished under the Medicis, so did Avadh under the nawabs, witnessing a creative efflorescence in everything from art, music, architecture to food. Known for their supreme hedonism, refined palates, and opulent lifestyle, they were epicureans par excellence. Their patronage vaulted food to a sophisticated art form. They vied with each other to hire the best bawarchis or rakabdars (chefs) in the land. The bawarchi khana (kitchen)—oftentimes more than one—occupied the place of pride in the royal palace.
The imperial cooks of the fourth nawab of Lucknow, Asaf-ud-Daula (1775-1797) are credited with the creation of the “Dum Pukht” style of cooking. According to legend, it came to be inducted into the regal carte du jour at a time of famine and unemployment. The nawab came up with a quirky idea to help his people with jobs. He commissioned the building of a massive monument, with the proviso that one fourth of whatever was built during the day would be demolished by night. This would ensure an uninterrupted supply of work round-the-clock. To keep the laborers fed 24/7, big meals were cooked in large, airtight cauldrons filled with meat, vegetables, rice, herbs, and spices. The nawab—who happened to be passing by one day—was so seduced by the aroma wafting from an open container that he ordered the dish to be perfected for the royal dining table.
Unlike most Indian dishes, “Dum Pukht,” which literally translates as “breathe in” (Dum) and “cook” (Pukht) in Persian, is known for its delicate spicing, robust flavors, and subtle taste. The meal is slow-cooked in a burnt sienna-colored, round earthen cooking pot called a handi that is typically sealed with a membrane of dough to prevent the flavors from escaping.
The uniqueness of the technique lies in cooking the food from both above and below—while pellets of smoldering charcoal are placed on top, the handi is also heated from beneath. The absence of a direct flame allows the food to cook gradually in its natural juices, retaining its natural nutrients while also suffusing it with an appetizing aroma.
Lucknow’s glorious past endures to this day, but one doesn’t have to travel that far to get a taste of “Dum Pukht.”
Though there aren’t any restaurants in the U.S. that cater exclusively to “Dum Pukht,” Banjara—located at 97 First Avenue in New York City—offers four “Dum Pukht” dishes: A chicken, lamb, shrimp and vegetable preparation. Another, Heritage India—a brasserie and lounge at 2400 Wisconsin Avenue in Washington, D.C.—has one “Dum Pukht” item on its menu—a rice delicacy, biryani Dum Pukht (long-grain rice mixed with meat or vegetables) that is similar to the Spanish paella.
For those willing to travel a little further to savor a truly authentic princely fare, there is the renowned Dum Pukht restaurant at the ITC Maurya Sheraton hotel in New Delhi, that is touted to be one of the best places in India (and even Asia) for sampling “Dum Pukht.” Chef Ghulam Mohammed Qureshi—a descendent of the royal cooks of the Avadh nawabs—has reinvented the cuisine for the modern palate, said Dharamvir Singh, its manager, in a phone interview.
The kakori kebab (finely minced mutton, cloves and cinnamon drizzled with saffron), served with an accompaniment of mildly sweet rice, specially prepared in an iron oven, is the jewel of the 43-item menu that literally, melts in the mouth. Other must-haves include the raan-e-dum pukht (a leg of mutton marinated in dark rum and stuffed with onions, cheese, and mint) and jhinga dum Qureshi (prawn kebabs that are Qureshi’s special creation).
Research assistance provided by Sharmila Mukherjee