Morsels for loved ones

Dumpukht is one of India's most stately restaurants. Now, for the first time since its inception, the menu has changed - with some meticulously-researched additions. Anoothi Vishal checks out the fantastic spread.

Chef Gulam Qureshi "" he of the famous clan; son-in-law to the somewhat-mercurial, almost-legendary chef Imtiaz, who has been responsible for putting Avadh's cuisine on the five-star map "" is overjoyed at meeting someone from his hometown, Lucknow.

We chat pleasantly about the bustling Chowk and the quaint Aishbagh, names that summon up another time, another culture, and about my school, La Martiniere.

Gulam recalls how, as a lesser-known, considerably-younger caterer in the city of nawabs, he would personally cycle down to the school to supply roomalis and kebabs. I raise my eyebrow at that because I don't quite recall any such (awesome) meals being served in the mess.

Instead, my own memories are restricted to special "protein diets" that boarder friends would complain about"" worm-infested sprouts!

But such details have scarcely a place in a story about food... Obviously, the chef and I are talking about different years, set more than a decade apart, and I can only be grateful for not having missed out on his cooking altogether.

I am revisiting Dumpukht, one of India's most stately restaurants, for a special purpose. Regulars, of course, never fail to get ecstatic about its "parda" biryani "" called that because of the layer of dough that seals off the pot in which the biryani is dum-ed, or slow cooked in its own juices "" and the "dabi dhaki" raan, whole shank of lamb, once again covered and cooked (as indeed all the food here is).

But now, for the first time in its almost-two decade long-history, the restaurant has had a big menu change. Old favourites remain. (Like at Bukhara, sister restaurant and the country's highest grossing brand, whose offerings have remained unchanged, even here, the philosophy seems to have been "why change a good thing?")

But there is a sterling addition by way of the new Habibia, "for the loved one", menu that, amongst other things, seeks to recreate old delicacies from the subcontinent's Muslim homes after an elaborate process of trial, error and final selection.

But even before you pick up that beautifully-produced menu card, there are a few things that you must already notice: the old crockery, for one, has been replaced.

Gone is the modern look, in its place we have a vintage one, the kind of plates you would've expected to find in traditional, well-heeled households more than half-a-century ago. The look evokes nostalgia, just like Hindi cinema's "Muslim socials" would. But other things too are laden with significance.

SSH (Habib, as he is more commonly called) Rehman, executive director, ITC Limited and a towering figure in Indian hospitality and tourism, has been the driving force behind ITC hotels' zealous research into traditional cuisines of the country. So, it is but obvious that the new menu "" fittingly named after him "" be his baby too.

The dora kebab, painstakingly filled with mince and tied with string, seeks to recreate the taste of Rehman's childhood in Hyderabad and there are other instances where a reference to an ingredient or dish in old Persian tomes has been explored and brought on to the table.

One example of such research is the use of figs in marinades, an Iranian practice (the best figs are still got from that country), that has found its way into some preparations.

The fantastic Habibia chops, for instance, chef Gulam tells me, are so well-done because they are marinated in anjeer or figs that act as tenderiser. Indian preparations, including the famed galawat ke kebab, or the galautis as we call them, invariably use raw papaya.

But figs not only tenderise (and aid digestion) but also lend a rich brown colour to the final preparation. Then, there is the murg khushq parda, marinated overnight, including in figs, garlic and ginger, and dum-ed for about two hours. In a fowl-loving city, here is one dish that I am convinced is fated to be a best-seller.

There are also some dishes favouring the ladies, or so the chef informs me. Murg haandi korma (different from Punjabi preparations in that this one uses yoghurt, not tomatoes) uses boneless pieces for the convenience of dainty ladies of the upper classes in older times.

There is also the vegetarian dudiyah kebab, once again an innovation to cater specifically to less robust womankind (!); essentially a paneer sandwich.

The menu tones down on spices and oil (and suggests wine pairings) but nowhere is the health-consciousness more evident than in the naan-e-bah-khummach. This mouthful implies wheat, not maida, naan.

Superior grain, brought in from Gwalior, is used. The bread is more wholesome than refined-flour offerings. Of course, health may not be a consideration when you go avisting.