At Roseate House’s DEL, Saimi Sattar discovers that Afghan cuisine has many points of convergence with the Indian one
Afghan cuisine. The very word had me conjuring up images of dishes rich in hardy meats, low in spices, sharing a commonality of taste with Central Asia and almost lacking in vegetables. But I couldn’t have been more off the mark. For when we dined at the DEL, the world cuisine bistro at Roseate House, which was celebrating the 100th anniversary of Afghanistan’s independence with the flavours of the country’s food curated by Chef Fariba Alizada and Sodaba Sherazi, I was pleasantly disappointed. Not only were the flavours spot on but there was an abundance of vegetables. And incidentally, it was the Indian cuisine that the dishes came nearest to, in terms of flavour.
We started with two soups — the vegetarian Afghani Aush and the non-vegetarian Murgh yakhni. It seemed that at every step the chef had decided to lay out a surprise for us. More often than not, it is usually the non-vegetarian dish which takes the proverbial cake as opposed to the vegetarian. But here it was the clear hot and sour Aush with chickpeas, red beans, potato, noodles garnished with dry mint that had us slurping till we could see the bottom of the bowl. The tangy flavour of the tomato, the slight bite added by noodles, chickpeas and potatoes created an amalgam that was familiar yet disparate from anything that I’ve had before.
The flavours of the Murgh yakhni, which had diced carrot, marrow, green beans and chicken, were more in keeping with the kind of nourishing chicken yakhni that is often cooked in Muslim households of Delhi and UP during winters and is usually had with roti that is broken and soaked in its mild flavours. No surprises there.
We then moved on to the starters and here the dishes reminded me of some Tibetan ones. First up was Bollani Gandana, which is flattened dough filled with fresh leek that is pan-fried. It was served with a mint chutney. The leek and the chutney added a burst of chlorophyll to every scrumptious bite. As for the connect, anyone who has had Sha-Bhak-Leb, flattened dough, stuffed with vegetables or meat and pan-fried, would know that it was almost identical.
Then there was Lamb montoo, which in appearance resembled a Tibetan momo and tasted a bit like it too. It was laid out on a bed of cooked chana dal. However, the filling and the accompaniment was what gave it a slight desi touch. The lamb, instead of the usual chicken filing, made the dish robust though it retained a certain lightness as the dish had been steamed. The lamb mince was flavoured with fresh coriander and black pepper which gave it just the right hint of flavour. Dipping into the accompaniment elevated the dish and made it an ideal melange.
Next up was the main course. A bite into Shola Ghurbandi and the word that immediately popped out of my mouth was “Haleem,” for this too was a mixture of thick rice, green lentil, beans and lamb cooked till it was difficult to tell each one apart. A sprinkling of caramelised onions on top rounded off the similarity down to the garnish. But where it ended was what made the dish worthwhile. Unlike the Indian equivalent, this sat light on the palate and did not give one the feeling of being weighed down after it was consumed.
The Kabuli pulav, in which lamb, carrots and raisins had been added to the rice and cooked together, had a slightly sweet taste. Though there was a gravy Lamb do pyazza which could be had as an accompaniment, this dish with just a hint of spices tasted good on its own.
For desserts, we had the Firni, made of fresh milk, which was cooked over a slow flame for a long time to thicken it. Garnished with pistachios and almonds, the dish had just a hint of sweetness and no more. Just like the entire meal, the flavours were there but not so much that they could overpower. The lightness of flavours and the feel made for the perfect meal.