Biryani or buranee? Take your pick

As a proud and confirmed carnivore, I was shocked to hear myself utter these words as I walked out of an Afghani buffet laden with glorious, butter-textured kebabs, and mouth- watering varieties of biryanis, including one cooked in the belly of a lamb (more on that later) — “The baingan was the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Right on cue, my vegetarian colleague flashed that see-you-don’t-have-to-be-an-animal-all-the-time smirk that vegetarians are prone to give me from time to time.

But I had to defer my meat-eater’s ego to the gob-smackingly delicious ‘Bedanjan Buranee that chef Amit Mishra of Mumbai’s Renessaince Hotel had rustled up for us.

Utter the word ‘Afghanistan’ and, given the recent geo-political occurrences in that part of the world, the first images imported are of yellow-bricked ruins, sand-camouflage on weary soldiers, gun smoke and shell casings, unreal blue skies, and the pinched, austere faces of Afghans. Evocations marked by an overwhelming sense of scarcity and harshness.

So when tureens full of luxuriantly creamy curries, mounds of kebabs, and plates overflowing with exotic dry-fruits are placed in front of me, I feel a dissonance between the images of Afghanistan that flit around the airwaves and the indulgent excess on display.

When I put this musing to chef Mishra, he admits unabashedly, “Afghani food is not this excessive. It’s quite simple and wholesome. They like to put their dry-fruits, vegetables, spices, staples, everything together in their dishes. But when you’re working at a restaurant, you have to take into account the likes and dislikes of your patrons.”

From the belly of a lamb
But Mishra does have some authentic Afghani dishes up his sleeve too, for the more discerning palate. The Kuzi biryani, cooked in the belly of a tender lamb, is one such offering. A lamb, in meat-market terms, is a goat that is below the age of two months.

With this tidbit hastily scribbled in my notebook, I shove a fresh forkful of steaming yellow lamb biryani into my mouth. The biryani hass just the right amount of wetness, and the flavour of tender lamb, by virtue of having been cooked in its belly, hangs on to every grain of rice.

If you ever fancy making this at home, you’d  have to find a refrigerator large enough to stash a 6-7 kilo lamb pricked and basted thoroughly with a marinade of salt, ginger and garlic paste and papaya, for a day. Before you can serve this culinary coup de grâce, you have to marinate it again with cumin, pepper, turmeric, oil and hung curd.

Stuff the wet carcass with rice half-cooked with cream, butter, saffron and nuts, shove it onto your (newly acquired I’m guessing) mahi-tawa for a couple of hours and you’re done.

The serving size is simple: Mishra recommends ‘zamin doz’, a communal eating ritual among Muslims where the whole family gathers around one large piece of food (like a baby goat stuffed with rice) and proceeds to devour it. So, if you’re planning to serve the kuzi biryani, make sure your guest list is substantial. If your family isn’t large enough to polish off 7 kilos of lamb, invite friends. And a personal disclosure: I am always available to lend a helping stomach. My email’s at the end of the story.

The eggplant steals the show
If you can’t envision serious remodelling of your kitchen, or simply don’t have that many friends, try something simpler and just as delectable. The Bedanjan Buranee. It’s as simple to make as the Kuzi biryani is complicated. You season a roundly sliced eggplant with salt, cinnamon and riceflour fry it and top it with curd mixed with black pepper, onions, cucumber and Afghani orange zest. That’s it. Really.

Afghani oranges are not something you’re likely to be able to source unless you have five-star connections, in which case ordinary oranges will do. However, the distinct tang and bite of the Afghani orange is not likely to be replicated by our garden variety.
The Bedanjan Buranee is the perfect mouthful. The salty crunch of the fried eggplant is perfectly complemented by the cool tangy
yogurt topping. I   marvel at how the eggplant in this banquet laden with meat and rice and nuts can steal the show.

My stomach distended to twice its size, I waddle over to the dessert table to be a mere spectator; apart from desserts, the table is decked with a fairly exotic variety of dry fruits and nuts. “You see, the terrain there is harsh and dry, and that’s reflected in their cuisine,” explains Mishra.

I take the opportunity to turn the conversation to the recent revival of Afghani cuisine. Mishra points out that with 9/11 and the ensuing US invasion, Afghanistan was constantly in the news, even if for the wrong reasons. “My parents live in New York, and they told me that the general interest in Afghani culture and food had a major spike after 9/11. A lot of Afghani food stalls opened up,” he says. Any publicity is good publicity I guess.

And as I write this piece, Afghanistan is in the news again due to the demise of its most infamous adopted son. If this results in some more interest in Afghani cuisine, that’s not a bad outcome, because it will focus the world’s attention on the rich culinary heritage of that land for a change. Having experienced the wonder of it first-hand, I do not grudge it any of the limelight it can muster.