I have written about Kashmiri food in these columns before. But I have often wondered why — while other regional cuisines have spread across India — Kashmiri food still remains a rarity. The primary reason for that I believe has been the restricted access to Kashmir for over four decades, which did not allow people from the mainland to experience the wonderful culinary traditions of the Valley which lay at the confluence of several cultural streams.

As I had observed in the earlier piece, there is an unmistakable Persian imprint in Kashmiri cooking. But one does not always remember that the Silk Route too passed through tracts of Gilgit. Then, the recency factor in history, made us forget the Indic roots of Kashmir from time immemorial, which have contributed to the evolution of Kashmiri Pandit cooking. Above all, Kashmir has some unique ingredients ranging from spices, vegetables, mushrooms (such as morels), dry-fruits, dairy products, a myriad variety of honey and even flowers that are used as flavouring and colouring agents. As Kashmir becomes more accessible and tourism opens up, people from the rest of India and the world will discover the wonders of Kashmiri food. A trend seems to be already emerging with new Kashmiri fine dining restaurants coming up. Matamaal, which opened in Gurgaon a few years back and is now expanding to other cities and also awarding franchises abroad, is one of the pioneers.

I shall not tire the regular readers of Saucy Tales by repeating descriptions of the more well known items. Among the new ones I tried that caught my fancy was tchok charwan — mutton liver in a tamarind sauce. I never had a similar liver preparation before. Though I liked the gravy, I found the liver pieces too hard and was not sure if they were meant to be overcooked. I need to check this with knowledgeable friends. However, I suspect this was an aberration as it was probably brought from the base kitchen and reheated or mixed at the branch pantry. The vegetarian equivalent of this is supposed to be tchok wangun (brinjal) but I did not try it.

Another surprise was the gaad roganjosh — which was made from sun-dried fish instead of meat. It is, of course, an acquired taste but that roganjosh is also made with fish was itself a revelation to me. The kabargah placed ceremonially at the centre of the thali was truly delightful. The restaurant manager explained to me how the real kabargah can only be made with young lamb, which has more fat, rather than goat. But alas people in the plains do not appreciate lamb. I was disappointed with the palak nadur and the manager was kind enough to provide me with a helping of haakh, surprised that I actually knew the difference. I had to eschew my temptation for the guchhi (morel) pulao because having it without a rajma or a nadru yakhni would have been a waste. But there is so much that even a glutton can devour.

The bonus at Matamaal is their collection of condiments and provisions. So I walked away with a goody bag of rajma, kahwa powder, roganjosh and kalya kit, walnut chutney and fennel powder.

Kashmiri food with its sophistication and subtlety has all it takes to be a hit on the international culinary circuit. The success of Matamaal is an indication of its global potential.

Subtle and sophisticated, Kashmiri food has all it takes to become a hit

Originally published at https://www.newindianexpress.com on March 2, 2024.