food talk
 A kebab to remember

Kakori disappears before you can feel its feather-like touch on the tongue leaving behind an aromatic whiff, says Pushpesh Pant

Kakori, as the whole world knows, is the most sublime of all kebabs— others like the much hyped and by now over exposed galouti may indeed melt in the mouth but the true-blue Kakori disappears before you can feel its feather-like touch on the tongue leaving behind an aromatic whiff that lingers on for a while.

What renders this a more complex challenge is that it has to be grilled on a seekh while the galouti, however delicate, remains a patty that has just to be carefully turned. The skewer is far more difficult to manage—the super fine tenderised mince threatens to crumble and crash onto the glowing embers each moment and the slightest lapse in controlling the flame can expose the poor Kakori to a fate worse than third degree burns.

CHEF’S delight

Ingredients
Kathhal (jackfruit, skinned and cut into pieces) 500 gm
Khoya/ milk powder 50 gm
Black pepper (freshly roasted and finely ground) 1 tsp
Black cardamom powder ½  tsp
Amchoor/dried raw mango powder ½  tsp
Green cardamom powder ½  tsp
Clove powder ¼ tsp
Mace powder ¼ tsp
Nutmeg powder ¼ tsp
Salt to taste

Method

Pressure-cook the kathhal pieces and mash well with khoya/milk powder and powdered spices when cool. Divide into equal portions, shape into balls. Spread these along the length of the skewers with a moist hand flattening the balls into sausage like shape—making each kebab about four inches long. Separate the kebab by about two inches. (Roll into a plate of very finely ground, roasted chana if you wish to buy insurance against the Kakori falling off the skewers; but don’t burden it with a thick coat of the avoidable stuff.) Roast over a charcoal grill, turning gently to cook evenly, until golden brown in colour.

Munna Miyan, the most popular purveyor of this signature delicacy, plied his trade from the vicinity of City Station in Lucknow. Like all denizens of that city associated with the legendary Nawab, he had an almost inexhaustible repertoire of anecdotes. He would vary the tales according to the listener.

The origins of the Kakori were suitably altered from time to time—it was either created to please a patron who had lost teeth before old age due to over indulgence or had evolved to serve the aged and infirm pilgrims who visited a Sufi saint’s shrine in the dusty small town.

Dum Pukht at the Maurya introduced the up-market version of the Kakori to the Capital’s gourmet many moons ago but the carnivores, addicted to tangri, never really fell in love with it. To date the more plebian Kakori dished out by al Kausar has far many more die-hard defenders. The only time when we have encountered a brilliant Kakori is at an informal dinner at ‘Rocky’ Mohan’s house in Lucknow.

We have long wondered why no one attempts a vegetarian Kakori when at least half a dozen types of subz ke galouti/ shami are floating around? At long last we have tasted something that can rightfully claim this title. At Patra—the specialty Indian restaurant at New Delhi’s Vasant Continental—they serve a seekh that gives the non-veg Kakori more than a good run for its money.

For some surprising reason they don’t call it a Kakori. Crafted out of kathhal and subtly spiced, it is a delight to savour. We are happy to share the recipe with our readers. This may need a little more practice to master but perseverance will ensure perfection well worth the effort.

 

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