Love does not evoke such emotions. Lust doesn’t even come
close to the number of reactions that it elicits. Curiosity is a distant
second. And there is never a second thought or a compromise.
I am of course talking about the not so humble Biryani. The
uncrowned King of Indian Cuisine. A dish that makes boys out of men and little
girls out of ladies.
Come to think of it, a Biryani is but a Rice & Meat
preparation. Yes, for sure there are several variants. Of course they are
geographically inspired and historically cherished. But you don’t see this kind
of debate and discussion taking place about Pulao do you?
So what is it that takes this dish into a royal orbit? Is it
the flavor? The amazing bouquet of spices? The tenderness of the meat? The
fineness of the rice? Or is it just the aura? The mystique?
There are too many stories that are floating around for us
to take any of them seriously. But the one about the ‘dum’ is perhaps the most
believable.
Apparently soldiers before heading out to battle, would just
dump marinated meat at the bottom of the ‘handi’, and then a few layers of
differently boiled rice. They would then seal the dish with a ‘blanket’ of
wheat and leave it to ‘stew’ over a fire. By the time they returned from their
daily excursions the Biryani would be ready.
I have no idea whether the Paradise recipe was inspired by
this tale but I must admit that the recipe that they’ve successfully used for
over six decades seems to be the logical winner. Whoever came up with the
recipe had obviously studied the subject.
Thick metal dishes with wide open mouths. Lovingly marinated
meat at the bottom. Rice boiled partially at the bottom, a little more boiled
rice in the second layer and a layer of almost fully boiled rice at the top.
Then the saffron and the ghee sprinkled onto the final layer before the whole
thing is sealed and double fired into a dum. The flavours travel all the way up
while all the rice gets equally cooked. The smell of the ‘Steaming Hot Biryani’
they say is a clear indication of its taste.
But that still doesn’t explain to me the kind of varied and
extreme reactions that I get at the very mention of Biryani. My sound recorders
pick up some inimitable ooohs and aahs. Normally dignified friends drop their
pretenses and settle down to some rather rowdy behavior. And if this happens
when I am part of a crowd the whole sound effect resembles an orgy.
Aaah. Oooh. I want some!!! Give me more!!! And sounds of
that genre accompanied by the heavy breathing that is par for the course in
these soirees. All this makes it sound
like anything from the Last Supper to the First Night if you know what I mean.
And if you thought Chennai and Bengaluru were any different
from Hyderabad (the self declared Capital of the Biryani World), you are
mistaken. But wait…for the first time this time I noticed something that made
me notice something special.
Something that made me remark that ‘Men maybe from Mars, but
Women Definitely are from Paradise’. Or vice versa. And that is why life is
such a lovely song set to the tune of Raag Biryani and to the tempo of the
Biryani Beat.
I want more, I want it all. Seems to say a Bengaluru
Blogger. Oooh, Biryani is good for my skin. Says the Chennai Cutie. And the
Hyderabad Admins are speechless in front of their own camera…what I call Selfie
imposed Silence.
