When we flip the pages of culinary history, we find stories of royal dishes that eventually made their way into the lives of common folk, gracing the bustling streets with a taste of the palace. Among these, the narrative of nihari is particularly striking. What started as a humble nourishment for the poor, rose through the culinary ranks to grace the royal table. In the royal kitchens, the recipe was refined and enriched, yet the essence of the dish – the texture and the depth of flavour – remained untouched. I believe nihari to be not just a dish but a symbol of aspiration, embodying the journeys of individuals who rose from obscurity to prominence and inspired countless others.
Growing up, the anticipation of Eid-ul-Azha (Bakrid) always brought with it the promise of homemade nihari, a dish immersed in our family tradition. Each year, we would journey to our maternal and paternal house in Sasaram to partake in it. Chote Mamu would call the naanbai (bread maker), providing him with the ingredients to craft the khamiri naan – the perfect companion to nihari in my opinion.
Meanwhile, the women of the house – Ammi, Khala and Mami—along with our ever-reliable house help, Baby Aunty, would take charge of the nihari preparation. They meticulously cleaned the feet and claws, and selected the finest cuts of meat from the calf muscle, neck and other choice parts. The masala was freshly prepared, and everything was placed into a large degh, which was then sealed and left to slow-cook over the gentle heat of coal through the night.
As dawn broke, the degh would be opened, releasing an intoxicating aroma that signalled the magic of freshly cooked nihari. Us kids would eagerly lay out the dastarkhwan, ensuring every plate had a bowl and spoon, and a smaller plate for the bones. The flavours of nihari were elevated with the addition of julienned ginger, freshly chopped coriander leaves, green chillies and a squeeze of lime – all of which we ensured were available in abundance.
Gathering around the dastarkhwan, the family would share a hearty breakfast, dipping the freshly baked khamiri naan into the rich, aromatic nihari. The warmth of the dish was the perfect antidote to the chilly winter mornings. Even as we grew older and Eid-ul-Azha occasionally fell outside of winter, the tradition continued. The family would come together and invite neighbours to share in the meal and laughter, embodying the spirit of togetherness and celebration. The essence of those mornings – family unity, communal preparation and shared enjoyment – remains etched in my heart.
However, there remains a layer of complexity woven around nihari that is encapsulated in two persistent questions: Is it nihari or nahari? And was it born in Delhi or Lucknow? To the first, I would say, the distinction lies in its etymology and consumption habits. “Nihari” originated from the Persian nahar, meaning morning, highlighting its traditional role as a hearty breakfast for labourers after morning prayers, particularly in the cold winters of Delhi. Abu Sufiyan from Old Delhi’s Shahjahanabad always offers a clever twist to this query, saying, “Jise nihar ke khayi jaaye wo nihari aur jise nahar mooh khayi jaye wo nahari” (That which is eaten after admiring is nihari, and that which is eaten with a flowing mouth is nahari). For the sake of history here, let’s stick to nihari as the main word, which can also be pronounced as nahari.
The debate intensifies when the origins of nihari are discussed, with proponents from both Delhi and Lucknow vying for the culinary crown. The dish, infused with black pepper and history, was, according to writer Anoothi Visha, initially prepared in the streets of Shahjahanabad (old Delhi) to protect against the diseases borne by the cold waters of the Yamuna. This story from Delhi adds to the rich narrative, embedding the dish deeply within the cultural and historical fabric of the city. The story in the lanes of Lucknow, however, is that they created the dish during the construction of the Imambara complex by Asaf-udDaula, Nawab of Awadh, in 1784. This essentially means that there was a 145-year difference between the origin stories – I am more inclined to believe the Delhi version.
When we compare the two versions of nihari – Delhi’s and Lucknow’s – I find that the former is a little thick compared to the latter, which, in turn, tells me many things. First, it was perhaps the prototype created to feed the people who were creating the city and working throughout the day (with whole wheat flour as a thickening agent, adding a hearty consistency to this beloved dish). The origins of this spiced bone-meat broth are believed to have descended from Afghani shorwa with Babar. Enhanced with a spice blend to balance its rich meatiness, this broth incorporated ingredients like curd and coriander, transforming it into a dish that boosted both flavour and worker immunity. However, when nihari made its way to Lucknow, it underwent a delectable transformation. In the early 1800s, during a severe famine, the khansamas of Lucknow refined the recipe to create a version that was thinner, smoother, milder and more aromatic than its robust Shahjahanabad counterpart.
What set the Lucknow nihari apart was the incorporation of shanks (nalli) and trotters (paya), which gave the broth a unique, sticky texture and rich, savoury flavours. This variation also introduced paan ki jhad, khus ki jhad, and gilla masala – a blend of brown onions, ginger and other spices – that elevated its complexity. When this culinary gem travelled to Bhopal, the begums there adapted it to suit local tastes, making the thinned broth even thinner.
According to Abdul Halim Sharar in Guzishta Lucknow, nihari was one of the most iconic dishes of Lucknow. This rich, aromatic beef stew was prepared overnight, allowing the flavours to deepen and blend into a sumptuous delicacy. Sharar notes that nihari was so exceptional that even the wealthiest aristocrats would frequent the stall of Mahumdu, the famous vendor who perfected it.
In Delhi, some of the best niharis have found a home in Matia Mahal. Matia Mahal, a street echoing the resonant past of a bygone era, was once synonymous with the grandeur and opulence that epitomized Mughal Delhi. Positioned adjacent to the Jama Masjid, this historical thoroughfare was a vibrant enclave, where nobles and royalty indulged in the luxuries of Mughal life. The street was named after a Mughal Begum and was famed for its refined culture, hosting an array of shops selling exotic perfumes and luxurious goods. The perfumers of Matia Mahal were not mere traders—they were artists who captivated the senses with their aromatic concoctions, that lingered in the air, weaving tales of romance and splendour.
At the zenith of its splendour, Matia Mahal was also known for its hammams – luxurious public baths that nobles and courtiers would retreat to in order to escape Delhi’s harsh, sweltering heat. These hammams were not just about cleanliness; they represented opulence and served as places where hidden treasures and stories of wealth added to their mystique.
Today, the opulence of the past has faded, and the street has transformed significantly. Matia Mahal is now renowned, not for perfumes or palatial baths, but for its vibrant culinary scene. It has become a gastronomic destination, famous for its array of street food, where the scents of kababs, curries and breads fill the air, drawing both locals and tourists alike. It’s a haven where the legacy of the Mughals flavours meets the dynamism of regular people.
Traditionally, the meat used in nihari has remained consistent. Street vendors often serve it with beef or buffalo meat, while upscale restaurants prefer mutton or lamb. The choice of cooking fat could be robust mustard oil or ghee. Traditional Lucknow nihari has whole spices packed in a small potli of muslin cloth to give only the flavour and not stay in the dish. The potli gets discarded once the dish is ready.
In Agra, nihari often features bone-in-meat, a tradition that extends to Bihar and Jharkhand. The essence of nihari is intertwined with beef or buffalo meat, while paya refers to its mutton or lamb counterpart. Each region adds its unique touch, yet all versions agree on the inclusion of red meat. Interestingly, in Lucknow’s treasured culinary heritage, you can also find chicken and quail nihari.
Unlike its crimson counterparts, Lucknow’s nihari boasts a yellowish hue, courtesy of the saffron and yellow food colour. This golden variation stands in stark contrast to the deep red gravies preferred in Delhi and other states, where such a colour might be considered unacceptable. What is acceptable, however, in Delhi is the “taar”, which means leftover nihari from the previous day/cauldron being mixed in the fresh batch to maintain the continuity and depth of flavour in the new batch. Regardless of these variations, a generous ghee tadka graces every bowl, adding a rich, buttery finish that is universally adored.
In November 2023, I had the pleasure of meeting Manzilat Fatima, the great-granddaughter of Wajid Ali Shah and owner of Manzie in Kolkata. She graciously hosted me at her restaurant, offering a lavish spread of her finest dishes. Among them was her rendition of nihari, served with dal puri – a surprising pairing for someone accustomed to enjoying nihari with khamiri roti, kulcha or simply khushka/phulka. Her version was milder, echoing the subtleties of Lucknow nihari. As a descendant of the nawabs, Manzilat seemed the perfect custodian of this magnificent dish. She suggested that I try the dish in Metiabruz, which closely resembles what nawab sahab might have savoured. Intrigued by her unique spice blend, I asked about the secret behind her spectacular nihari. She responded with a smile and served me some mutton chap.
Even with different variations or versions, one thing will always remain the same (luckily) – nihari will be slow-cooked overnight in large pots to ensure the flavour is absorbed into the meat. One benchmark, while preparing this dish, is that the meat should disintegrate and blend with the gravy. From Delhi’s Kallu nihari, Haji Shabrati to Lucknow’s Rahim nihari to Kala Khan nihari House in Rawalpindi and Zahid nihari in Karachi – all follow the same template. While a standard accompaniment is khamiri roti, you can also ask for maghaz (brain) and extra butter or ghee on top.
Excerpted with permission from Masalamandi: A Guide to the World of Indian Spice Blends, Sadaf Hussain, Penguin India.
