The single malt gets married to a spicy kebab

For me, it was somewhat schizophrenic to begin with. One moment I was transported to the cool Scottish highlands of Inverness from where my Dalmore single malt had come, with traces of the sherry wood cask in which it had matured for 12 years. The next moment I was yanked back to my native land with the spicy aftertaste of Tala Gosht, boneless mutton marinated with ginger-garlic and roasted on a griddle.

The pairing of single malt, which tends to have distinctively sharper flavours than blended whisky, with Mughlai kebabs, which can be equally attention-seeking, is not for the faint of heart. But, however counter-intuitive it might seem, this is the order of the day as Indians acquire a taste for single malts while retaining their preference for the spicy meats and paneer they like to have with their whisky. Not for them the buttery broccoli, which would be a perfectly submissive partner to a feisty malt.

Pragmatic as ever, ITC Grand Central’s Kebabs & Kurries paired up whisky connoisseur Sandeep Arora with Chef Ishmeet Singh to try and make this seemingly incompatible marriage of a single malt with a spicy kebab work. The result was a meal which did have its ups and downs but nary a boring moment. The whisky progressed from a 12-year-old to a smoother 15-year-old before finishing up with the rich mellowness of the Dalmore Gran Reserva. Side by side, the food made its way from the aforementioned Tala Gosht and a Hara Kebab to the main course of Gosht Hari Mirch and Paneer Khurchan, before cooling down with a saffron and pista infused kulfi. Oh, and in between, there was the Kebabs & Kurries signature dish of Gosht Dum Pukht Biryani, which stood alone without a malt by its side. The strong aroma of rice in the biryani would overpower any whisky, and so it must remain unmarried, Arora explained to me. On Chef Ishmeet Singh’s part, the trick was to pick kebabs and dishes with a Peshawari origin, which are milder without garam masala or perfumes like ittar.

Across town, another fine dining place, Oberoi’s Ziya, was playing host to a similar marriage between classy Glenfiddich single malts and some attractive Indian delicacies. Twelve, 15 and 18-year-old Glenfiddichs were followed by a 21-year-old Balvenie. Here at Ziya, sous chef Renji Raju was happy to give a European touch to some of the food pairings. So although he began with a vigorous Punjabi dhaba-style chicken masala to go with the youngest Glenfiddich, he had a whiskyed truffle for the grand old Balvenie. In between, there was a smoked bevda prawn, and yes bevda does mean ‘drunkard’, because this dish is whisky-flambéed. For the main course, there was Tandoori Raan with a difference: a Rogan Josh sauce came with it and the Raan was braised with spinach and pine nuts to make it milder than the traditional one.

Here too, Chef Renji did away with the usual finishing touches of garam masala which would have upset the single malt. When pressed to admit the unnaturalness of this pairing, however much you toned down the spicing, Renji simply pointed out that people here like their food spicy, and now they like their single malts too.
As for me, I had by now figured out how to manage my schizophrenic responses. I knew just how much of a gap to leave between a sip of smoky malt and a bite of spicy kebab. As long as they give each other a little space, there’s no reason they can’t live happily together ever after.

Marriage liquidated
If the traditionalist in you shies away from trying to mix and match single malts with Indian curries, what would you say to dunking them in cocktails? I can see you shaking your head in disapproval, and that was my thought exactly too when I was invited to try it out at the Taj Mahal Palace which has introduced a whole range of single malts as well as cocktails made out of them.

My guide in this experiment was Tim Etherington-Judge, brand ambassador of Diageo Reserve, who first explained how malts vary in flavour from the delicate to the smoky, from light fruity ones to rich nutty types, depending on which part of Scotland they come from. But then, with so much attention to detail having gone into their preparation, why would you want to lose their purity in cocktails?

“If we simply stick to tradition, we’ll never innovate,” countered Tim, as he urged me to taste it for myself and see what he meant. The malt was from the famous Hebridian island called Islay, off the west coast of Scotland, and it had been doused with Angustura bitters and orange oils. “Oh, this is so interesting. It’s a very smoky cocktail,” I had to acknowledge, and Tim raised a fist in triumph.