Good biryani, how much meat?

Veeresh Malik
03 February 2013, 03:36 PM IST

Biryani is a global food, of that I have no doubt, found wherever there are rice-eaters. From all corners of Asia, to points in Africa and South America, as well as in and around the Med - there have been different variations on one theme - you can and will find what can best be described as rice and meat cooked separately, then put together in layers, and served. Community meal, individual servings, rice inside the meat in some cases. Every possible permutation and combination.

From bland to spicy, via marinades and more, biryani ruled the waves. Globally. Soul food on ships. For centuries.

Going back into the '70s, as a seafarer and most always as part of the "mess committee", I used to go ashore with a single minded fervour to actively seek out local variations. Iranian variations come to mind first - often soaking with white butter applied on the uppermost meat layer. Spicier variations from the ports of the Malabar coast vied for local dominance with the red hot chilly options served up on the ports of the Coromandel coast. The Hyderabadi and Lucknowi versions, sadly did not do it for me, also because of the hype - nor did the Spanish versions, and also because something happens to cooking when carried out inland which does not quite fit my inner id, I can not explain why.

Moving on to the Far East, and elsewhere, Malaysia, Burma and the Philipines stand out. Can sushi, served the way it was in Japan in the '70s, rolled with seaweed, be called a sort of fish biryani - maybe it could, before sushi "went California". There was a glorious biryani I had in Bharuch, an ancient port with a standing history of about 8000 years, called the Cambay Biryani which resembled what you could get at Cafe Brittania in Ballard Estate - only difference was that it had some mind bending constituents in it. And surprisingly, it was similar to a biryani kind of dish I had, of all places, in Marseilles.

That Marseilles biryani stands out, because the rice was cooked in some magic seafood stock, and the meat was pork.

And ofcourse, nothing beat "Sunday biryani" on ships with sub-Continent cooks, especially cooks from Bengal or further, Sylhet. These were community efforts, with seafarers from all over the world onboard joining in to make this Sunday's biryani better than last Sunday's or last ship's, washed down with copious amounts of beer.

But whatever it was, one golden rule stood out - the volume of cooked rice and cooked meat inside needed to be around 50/50. Curds on the side, salad and maybe boiled eggs, for the Indians there would also be daals. Also. Onions. Raw, fresh, rings, soaked in vinegar and/or lime, fried crisp . . .

And. Always, the best biryanis were served in layers. Bottom layer rice, then meat, and so on - 4 layers, 6 layers, or even more. You took a slice out carefully, with vertical cuts using a rice spoon, never with a serving spoon. And you made sure that the biryani was never "tossed" while removing your share.

If you had to mix and eat, like many of us Indians would do to the astonishment of especially the Iranians, then you were welcome to do it in your own plate. Toss the salad in, shovel boiled eggs and cover liberally with daal, shovel the whole lot down with curds or raitas. Add pickles. Whatever.

But that community biryani dish in the middle, that was cut carefully while serving, not broken down so that the layer effect was not disturbed, till it fell of its own accord towards the end. THAT was biryani.

Unlike what I had last night at a bespoke restaurant in Delhi. Wooden stools and attitude as thick as the skulls of the staff there. What we got was I would say three cubes of mutton about 2 cms on each side, add a few shreds of mystery meat with garlic and ginger strips sprinkled on the rice. Lots of rice. About a litre of rice, for lack of a better measure, served in an earthen pot. Pay extra for the raita. Pay extra for the daal.

And then the idiot waiter, steward, he took a table spoon and stirred the biryani.

This was not biryani. This was death by carbohydrates, refined and polished.

My suggestion to people headed out to eat biryani at fancy and expensive restaurants is to take a packet full of boti kababs or similar with them, and add them to the rice when the waiters are not looking. In layers.

Biryani was never about the glory of rice with meat sticking out like sinking atolls. Or squishy beaches. Biryani was meant to remind you of mountains on the horizon seen from the coast.

Can readers tell me where we can get proper biryani, equal volumes of meat and rice, in or around Delhi? Preferably using red or unpolished rice.Thank you.