FOOD TALK
Kissa kebab ka
Pushpesh Pant

Shami Shami remains the perennial favourite and you may like to begin with it. The recipe remains common for the vegetarian and non-vegetarian kebab but may require a little adjustment as per personal taste when the vegetarian ingredients are changed. For the shami Lean mince yam, lotus stems, raw bananas) - 1/2 kg Chana dal - 100gm Ginger (washed scraped chopped) - 2 inch piece Garlic (medium peeled chopped) 1/2 pod Bay leaf 1 Red chilies whole - (washed) 4 (or less) Cloves - 6 Cardamom - 4 Green cardamom - 2 Cinnamon - Two-inch stick Salt to taste Filling: Onion (chopped very fine) 1 small Green chillies washed deseeded 2 (chopped very fine) Coriander fresh 1 tbs washed cleaned and chopped very fine. Boil the ingredients for the shami in half cup of water in a pressure cooker. Squeeze dry and remove the spices. Grind in a mixer—preferably finish on the grindstone. Make small balls, put in a pinch of the filling and shape into patties of the desired size. Grill with very little refined oil on the tawa or non-stick pan till a brown crust is formed. Take care not to break the kebab while turning. Serve hot or cold with mint chutney. Try eating these with steaming hot rice with a little dahi on the side!

It is the trigger-happy rhymesters who have given the poor kebab a bad name—a clear case of guilt by association. Once kebab, sharab and shabab are made inseparable does one need anything else to sink neck- deep (and more) in debauchery? Others who are not even carnivores are extremely knowledgeable about kebab mein haddi—the unacceptable bother the smallest bit of bone causes to ruin the enjoyment of this delicacy.

A kebab, like love, is a many splendoured thing. You can be seduced by the pan grilled shami or pit-roasted sheenkh; there are die-hard loyalists who will have nothing else but a kebab made in the tandoor (with the bone in place please!). It is not easy to dispute the claims of the chicken tangadi kebab or the marvelously succulent barra. There are also the recklessly adventurous gourmets for whom the word cholesterol exists only in the dictionary of the tasteless louts. These addicts cannot do without the deep fried gooler kebab.

From the melt-in-the-mouth and subtly aromatic galouti dished out near the Akbari Mosque in Lucknow by the one and only Usman Mian ( scion of the legendary Tunda Kebabi) and the equally delicate kakori to the more robust kebab with a bite served by the descendents of Maseeta in Delhi, the variety on offer is bewildering. Hyderabadis do not confine their expertise to biryani and salan, they are justifiably proud of the local chapali and rather weirdly named tatti kebab. But what is in a name: a kebab is a kebab is a kebab- a dainty morsel of meat (or vegetables substituted for meat) that paired with roti can make for a most memorable and nourishing meal. Nizam’s kathi rolls did just that to charm an entire generation in Calcutta. The beauty of a kebab is that it can dazzle you like Cinderella from the plain Jane version to the bells-and-whistle edition. Kebab, till recently, was believed to have reached the sub continent with the Turks. But references to shule in heroic legends of Rajput princes and mention of Bhaditraka in ayurvedic texts suggests that a native version of the kebab did exist before the import. It is pity that most of us buy meat and eat kebabs from the butcher or the neighbourhood grocer rather than try our hand at it. A great kebab is far easier to prepare than a passable cake.

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