Inside the Lesser-Known Cuisine of India's Konkani Muslims

A delicious introduction to the distinct cuisine of Konkani Muslims, shaped by mercantile relations of the Konkan coast with Arab traders.

Most people are still unaware that Islam thrived on Indian soil long before the conquest of Sindh, or even the Mughal invasion. The first Indian Muslims were Arab traders, merchants, and sailors. They probably planned to make a quick transactional pit-stop on the shores of Malabar, Tamil Nadu, and the Konkan coastline, but eventually stayed on to become part of the diverse cultural heritage of this land. And the story of Konkani, or ‘Kokni’ Muslims, lies somewhere here.

Bombay’s beloved Jama Masjid was built by a Konkani Muslim, Mohammad Ali Roghay, for whom Mohammad Ali Road was named. Dr. Omar Khalidi, a Muslim scholar and longtime MIT research librarian, claims that the first Konkani Muslims were traders from Basra, Iraq, fleeing the region’s cruel Umayyad governance. They eventually settled across Thane, Raigad, Ratnagiri, Sindhudurg, and Goa, marrying local women, taking on local businesses, and adopting local etiquette.

These Mediterranean and Middle Eastern traders began to speak in the local language, Konkani, ate chaur (rice) and mhaura (fish) while also weaving their heritage into local food and customs. They used coconuts and rice extensively, like the locals, but also cream, saffron, and dried fruits, like their Arab ancestors.

Mrs Nilofer Modak, a Konkani Muslim residing in Mumbai attests to this. “We use a lot of dried coconut or kobra as we call it, in our ground masalas, or meat curries or even sweet sandans; it is part of almost everything we make,” says Modak whose family has roots in Kadwai, a small village in the coastal town of Ratnagiri.  

This unique cuisine treads a fine balance between Mughal, Arab, Maharashtrian and Konkani elements. For instance, the Maharashtrian Puran Poli is made uniquely their own by lavishly aromatising it with saffron. There’s also the Konkani roat which draws inspiration from its Middle Eastern cousin basbousa — an identical semolina cake laced with saffron, poppy seeds, cream, and nuts.

These parallels are evident in Konkani Muslim curries too, a delicious marriage of the Mughlai korma and the Maharashtrian rassa. The Kokni mutton goriso, for example, emphasises slow-cooking the gravy until a thick layer of fat pools on top, much like Mughlai kormas. Only, goriso is paired with Kokni sandani, semi-sweet rice cakes instead of naan or roti, like korma would.

Mughlai and Middle Eastern culinary techniques like dum are are common, in Konkani Muslim dishes like dum cha mhaura, a preparateion of stuffed and baked fish.

Konkani Muslim food, like most Indian cuisines, is very diverse. From one village to the next, and one coastal town to another, the cuisine shows noticeable variations. Mrs Modak points out that her own cooking is vastly different from her cousin’s, who hails from Murud Janjira in Alibaug, a town a few kilometres up the coast.

Talela Mhavra, fried fish

Shabana’s sister Jabeen and mother, Salma Salauddin

Saravle, hand-made wheat pasta

Fascinatingly, the cuisine merges Islamic philosophies with Konkani food etiquette. Dishes like saravle, a popular dish among households in the community, is a local version of hand-made wheat pasta. Food historian Mohsina Mukadam, traces the roots of this dish to sevai (dessert), which is eaten in Muslim households across the world. Mukadam explores the thread of both sevai and saravle closely, and their association with marriage celebrations. While the Mughals introduced the custom of the bride preparing bowlfuls of sevai for her in-laws, saravle was an integral part of the bride’s trousseau or rukhwat. 

Sadly, there remains a stark absence of written records detailing Konkani Muslim cuisine. Blogger and writer Saher Khanzada is amongst the handful of people studying this cuisine. A passionate food enthusiast who goes by the handle Bombay Glutton, uses her Konkani Muslim heritage to educate readers about the hidden treasures of this vast cuisine. “Until a few years back, no one even knew we existed,” iterates Saher. Visiting Konkan villages around her ancestral home in Janjira, she connects with old women who safeguard centuries-old recipes. Saher extensively documents the Konkani Muslim sweet tooth in her writing, “We can give Gujaratis a run for their money when it comes to eating sweets,” she chuckles. While jaggery is used as the primary sweetening agent, sugar is used sparsely. Ghavne, layered rice pancakes, tavsachey ghaarey, cucumber pancakes, baitho ghavno, glutinous rice pudding, dhapkya chi saak, a sweet pumpkin preparation, are all sweetened with jaggery, and eaten through the day. Chhakkar pulao, a main dish served with lal mirchya chi chutney is also sweetened with jaggery!

But given the lack of formal documentation, many heirloom recipes are dying with time. “It’s sad that some dishes like saravle are disappearing because barely anyone has the expertise to make it anymore,” she says.

Recent years have seen a slow revival in the community’s efforts to preserve the essence of Konkani Muslim cuisine. Seema Modak, who also belongs to Kadwai in Ratnagiri, spearheaded an initiative to put together Zaique Kadwai, a cookbook that explores centuries-old Konkani Muslim delicacies of Ratnagiri’s Konkani Muslim households, from traditional masalas like wantela khobro, a mix of carrom seeds, dried ground coconuts and garlic, to badishep, a mix of aniseeds, black pepper and spices, to slow-cooked meat dishes like ukro (chicken curry), kurlyacha kalanvka (crab roast), talleli kaar (fried dry prawns) and even traditional bread.

“For the first time in mainstream media, people are talking about who we are and how delicious our food is,” beams Shabana Salauddin, owner of a Konkani Muslim delivery kitchen called Ammeez Kitchen based out of Mumbai. Shabana who worked as a corporate executive for most of her life, quit her job to open a delivery kitchen out of her her home, to dole out popular Alibaug-style Konkani Muslim delicacies. Complete with authentic deg (pots), parat (sharing platters) and takhta (low seating), Ammeez Kitchen is the only place offering a complete Konkani Muslim dining experience. With the help of her sister Jabeen, and under the hawk-eyed supervision of their 72-year-old mother Salma, Shabana recreates the food she has grown up eating. “We don’t use watans (pre-made masalas),” she says describing what separates Konkani Muslim preparations from other Malvan or Konkani restaurants in the market. Their signature dishes include mhaurachi dum biryani, a Konkani Muslim fish biryani; khari ghosh — lamb cooked in its own fat; and the unique wheat-based Khichda, a rich porridge made out of meat, wheat, and spices.   

Other home chefs like Mumtaz Kazi, and her cousin Sameera Gawandi, recreate home-recipes in pop-up stalls across the city. This duo from Ratnagiri are masters at preparing delicious coconut-soaked dishes like Sukhi Kolbi, a dry prawn preparation, bharlela paplet, stuffed pomfret, and chawrachi roti, rice bread.

The Khandaans Kitchen is also another home kitchen that uses ancestral recipes in their food business. This is probably one of the only place you can sample sasringa, a unique Konkani Muslim dish that’s essentially sweetened egg made with onions and spices and other special delicacies.

These individual efforts are slowly building an effective representation of a small community’s distinct cuisine, carving out a niche for themselves in the diverse culinary landscape that is Indian cuisine.

Sneha Christuraj is a marketeer working in the F&B space. She loves to explore different cuisines through her lens and tell goodgrubtales in her free time.

Banner image credit: Hello World Magazine

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