Degh to Dastarkhwan: Experiencing the Qissas & Recipes of Rampur

Ruth Dsouza Prabhu finds Tarana Husain Khan’s book on the micro-cuisine of Rampur an insightful, delicious read, with recipes that deliver every time.

Over the years, and through the many food books I have read, I have unconsciously developed a habit: I read the back cover, and if intrigued enough, flip through the book to look through the recipes. Years of cooking from various kinds of cookbooks have honed my instincts and I can tell if a recipe will work, if the flavours it promises will truly shine through.

It is through these trials that many family favourites have come to our table – a Sri Lankan omelette curry in coconut milk; the Timmur Ra Golbhendako Achaar – a Nepali pepper and tomato stone-ground chutney; lemon shortbread from a children’s book; a fire-less rasam, and many more. Rarely would I feel the compulsion to bookmark more than 2 or perhaps 3 recipes from a book. That is, until Degh to Dastarkhwan – Qissas and Recipes from Rampur by Tarana Husain Khan.

Right off the bat, I bookmarked 8 recipes to try. After a point, I decided to simply include one recipe from the book into our weekly menu at home — the only way to truly do justice to the book.

But then, recipes alone do not maketh a food book, especially one that is introducing a micro-cuisine like Rampuri food to the world. And Tarana has so much to share with her reader.

A Endearing and Relatable Read

The second line of the Author’s Note was when I knew I was going to love this book, not just for its recipes but for its stories. Tarana says – Let me confess that I come from a long line of non-cooking gourmands and armchair critics of both sexes. How many of us have had our palates refined by exactly these folk! Some of us have attempted to forge ahead and carry the mantle of greatness from more knowledgeable generations that came before us, while others have chosen to remain content in their armchairs.

Through the book, Tarana’s prose is lyrical and relatable. Invoke your inner andaza, she says, when balancing spices for a dish, should you consider varying the quantity of meat. She explains that khichdi, in winters, has more social life than a pulao — as she describes khichdi dawats that form an integral part of socialising in the cold months. Khichdi, in the 80s, was made with fragrant short-grained, aromatic rice called the Tilak Chandan, all but extinct now. But an effort to resurrect this variety, spurred in fact by some of Tarana’s own writing, saw a harvest of the crop in December 2020. At a khichdi dawat that she organised, Tarana was pleased to see that everyone turned to the Tilak khichdi as they were jolted out of their taste amnesia. How often have we been jolted out of our own taste amnesia when tasting a dish from our childhood?

She describes the librarian at Raza Library, where she chanced upon 150-year-old Persian cookbook manuscripts during her research: He looked at me with disdain over his rickety, steel framed spectacles, asked me the Persian word for the art of cooking, and sure enough, found me wanting, so summarily dismissed me. Don’t we all know a family cooking stalwart exactly like him?

Presenting the Food of Rampur

The old Persian cookbook manuscripts that Tarana finally does manage to secure, take her on a journey of discovery of the cuisine of Rampur. A major influence on the cuisine was the Awadhi Muslim sub-culture. This influence was further reinforced by the artists and chefs who moved away from Delhi and Awadh after the 1857 rebellion. Patronised by the Nawabs of Rampur, these culinary maestros collaborated with their Rampuri counterparts in royal kitchens, birthing Rampuri cuisine.

The book makes for easy reading and understanding of this nuanced cuisine through the everyday lives of the people of Rampur. We see how the pulao is integral to every feast, funeral or prayer. And how, over the years, as with all cuisines, traditional ways of cooking and sharing a meal changed. We read about the Taar Roti — a single dish that is the star of the walima, the reception where nuptials are announced. This dish, once thin and golden-hued from generous amounts ghee, has today become a thicker curry, with spice-hued, vermilion-red ghee. Learning that the author studied basic Urdu to decipher the manuscripts and attempt a Pulao Shahjahani while trying to fully absorb the nuance between Yakhni and Shorba, had me rooting for her success all the way.

I laughed out loud reading the story of Attu Bhai’s Qiwami Sewain failures each Eid, and the many rescue missions to save it! Reminded me of my regular failures trying a basic gulab jamun from scratch (a dessert that still eludes me). And I personally felt her joy at the piping hot Andarsey, a crunchy monsoon sweet of rice flour and sesame seeds. I can hardly wait to try it at Mumtaz Bhai’s grimy little shop.

Cooking from the Book

What made the recipes in this book call out to me was that there was a version for every kind of cook. While the elaborate Yakhni Pulao Khaas with its almonds and cream is perfect for a weekend cooking project, the Yakhni Pulao Saada is a more practical option for a weeknight dinner. The aromatic masala had me truly amazed — both at its simplicity, and its ability to transform any dish. Imagine nutmeg, star anise, cinnamon and mace coming together in a spice mix! The yellow chilli came into my kitchen thanks to this book, and lent its unique flavour to the Khade Masaley ka Qorma I cooked. The Shah Baghdadi Dal is another dish I tried, and while I’ve never been a chana dal fan, I am happy to declare myself a convert now. The Anday ka Halwa is next on my to-cook list, as is the author’s favourite homecoming dish, Aloo Ghosht.

What I would have loved is an index of recipes to make for easy reference, but nevertheless, each recipe is well laid out, with clear directions, and the end result is the creation of a brilliant food memory from a micro-cuisine that deserves its time in the limelight. For the food enthusiast who may be daunted by these complex-looking recipes, Tarana mentions, in Cooking Notes, that she has tested and modified the recipes she shares. This is a reaffirmation of my unshakeable belief that while the essence of a cuisine may be defined along lines of ‘authenticity’, every recipe can be made one’s own, lending it a unique, personal touch.

And just to emphasise this point, a phrase at the end of the Pulao Shahjahani recipe that Tarana painstakingly unravelled — Dar kami-o-peshi ikhitiyaar-e-hast – the balance of everything (flavours) is in our hands.

Degh to Dastarkhwan – Qissas and Recipes from Rampur
Author – Tarana Husain Khan
Penguin Books
MRP – Rs 399

Buy online here.

Ruth Dsouza Prabhu is an independent features journalist based in Bengaluru, India. She has been writing on food for over a decade. Her work has appeared in Al Jazeera, Reader’s Digest, and Condenast Traveller, among others.

ALSO ON THE GOYA JOURNAL