Gujarati Muslim Food

Contributer/Photography: Sana Javeri Kadri

My grandparents grew up on along the Sabarmati River in the Gujarati capital of Ahmedabad. They were on the Muslim side, the side like stepping several centuries back in time and of the walled city with tiny alleys. In contrast, the Jain side was on the big, newly developed roads of the river bank, an ode to rising capitalism. When I tell folks I'm Gujarati, it's immediately assumed that we're discussing the Jain side, because to consider the alternative would be to disrupt the politeness of everyday small talk. These days, Gujarat is famous for being the home state of the current Indian Prime Minister, Narendra Modi.

Islamic tradition and culture were brought to Gujarat by Arab and Persian traders who landed in the Gulfs of Khambat and Kutch over a period fve centuries in the Mughal and Turkic rule over India. With that trade route came Persian spices, Arab recipes, the advent of Islam in India, and my grandfather's ancestors. But Muslim existence in Gujarat has never been easy.

In 2002, Gujarat experienced the most gruesome sectarian violence since the British led Partition of India and Pakistan in 1947. Nearly 2,000 Muslims were killed. The chief minister of Gujarat at the time, our current Prime Minister, has not yet been prosecuted for his role in the riots. To be Muslim in Ahmedabad is to live a precarious life, usually restricted to the confines of the mohulla, our small decrepit neighborhood. This violence against the minority goes back much further than 16 years ago. Its roots lie deep in the Gujarati state identity of Hindu supremacy.

As a result, Gujarati Muslim food is rarely represented in the public dialogue of Indian cuisine. Similar to the country's cultural hierarchy, our culinary hierarchy places an emphasis on north Indian foods and, occasionally, a south Indian all-star, like the dosa. The beautiful mish-mash of Persian and Mughal cooking styles and Gujarati produce can only be found in the most tightly knit neighborhoods of Muslim Gujarat, amongst a people who unlike the rest of their statesmen (Gujaratis are amongst the world’s largest diaspora), rarely have the opportunity to emigrate.

Gujaratis have a knack for taking any cuisine and evolving it to its ultimate expression of "extra." Cheese toast? Make that an Amul cheese mountain layered atop twice buttered fluffy "pao" bread. Cold coffee? Make that a pitcher of blended ice cream and chocolate sauce with a double shot of espresso. Moderation is not a part of the modern Gujarati diet.

In the United States, I can bond over fufy dhoklas or okra, or mango season, anywhere there's a Patel Brother's outlet to be found. But Gujarati Muslim food remains my little secret, saved for the odd January when my family is able to make the trip back to Ahmedabad to celebrate the annual kite festival and re-live my grandfather's glory days as the cutthroat kite runner of the mohalla.

So what is this food? It's the super secret Gujju mutton biryani. It’s the extra crispy, delicate and perfectly greasy, patti mutton samosas. It’s the to khakina – scrambled eggs laden with caramelized onion, topped with heavy cream and eaten with fluffy pao. It's dripping, whole roasted goat (not unlike Mexican barbacoa) eaten for Sunday lunch with steaming rice and thick yogurt. It's a street full of chefs and caterers who will make you Gujarati dal that will leave even the most devout Jain salivating (only to find that the secret to its delightfulness is that it's thickened with mutton fat). It's my Abbu's culture, my truest diasporic identity and a culinary history.

Giant pots of mutton biryani being tended to for a busy weekend of weddings and celebrations in the mohulla.

Each region has its own unique dal preparation, but in Bhatiyar Galli (meaning Cook’s Lane) the dal that reigns supreme is a thick and smokey Mughlai style dal. This is different from the thin tuvar based Gujarati dal that the rest of the city thrives on – but it's flavored with the same iconic sweet and sour of jaggery and tamarind that Gujarati dal is known for across the world, making it familiar and yet absolutely unique.

Ahmedabad’s Walled City is a predominantly Muslim neighborhood that looks nothing like the rest of the city – still running on bicycles, make-shift laundry lines, and plenty of potholes, whilst 99% of state development funds go to the non-Muslim majority.

In the winter, roasted sweet potato vendors roam the streets giving folks a warm and filling snack, seasoned with salt, amchoor (dried mango powder) and chilli.

India neoliberalized in 1992 and, with that, every major brand fought to capitalize on a piece of the world’s largest democracy. Today, especially in poorer neighborhoods like the mohulla, traditional lunchboxes are being eschewed for a 10 rupee coin that can buy you a packet of chips for lunch. The annual kite festival is a big deal in the mohulla and an appropriately big deal fashion sense must be entertained.

The annual kite festival is a big deal in the mohulla and an appropriately big deal fashion sense must be entertained.