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.