
Mumbai wants to extinguish the charcoal tandoor
Soon charcoal-fired tandoors may also be hard to find in Mumbai, India's commercial capital. The local government has issued notices to scores of restaurants and food stalls that they must switch to greener alternatives, such as gas-fired or electric ovens, to help reduce air pollution; eateries have until July 8th to comply. (Authorities in Delhi also curbed the use of charcoal tandoors a few years ago.)
Mumbaikars, as residents of the city are known, fret that their kebabs and naans will lose the distinctive—not to mention delicious—barbecue char. Restaurateurs say they are being unfairly blamed for air-quality problems, as construction and gridlocked traffic contribute to smog, too.
The tandoor is ancient and its origins are disputed. Clay ovens used for baking bread are mentioned in 'The Epic of Gilgamesh", perhaps the oldest recorded story, and the term can be traced back to the Akkadian words for 'fire" and 'mud". Tandoors are still used across Asia.
The modern variant seems to have made its way to India via the Mughals, a Central Asian Muslim dynasty that ruled much of northern India and present-day Pakistan before the British. Yet others claim an indigenous origin for tandoori dishes, finding evidence that the ancient Harappan civilisation (which spanned present-day Punjab) baked chickens in clay ovens. Either way, the tandoor became a mainstay of Punjabi cooking and tandoori chicken became a staple dish.
A trio of Punjabi chefs pioneered the recipe, marinating the chicken in a mixture of yogurt and spices before grilling it. As refugees, fleeing the horrors that followed the bloody partition of India and Pakistan in 1947, the chefs brought the technique to Delhi, where it became a favourite of India's first prime minister, Jawaharlal Nehru. The dish spread all over the world with Indian emigrants. It even became a symbol of the former imperial metropolis: tandoori chicken was adapted into chicken tikka masala, perhaps Britain's favourite curry.
The charcoal tandoor is burning out not just because it is dirty, but because it is expensive—due to the large, high-quality chunks of charcoal required—and because of the skill needed to handle the heat. Gas tandoors may be more efficient, yet their flavour is less robust. Discerning eaters will hope that centuries of culinary history do not go up in smoke.
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Mint
2 days ago
- Mint
Mumbai wants to extinguish the charcoal tandoor
Suhel Ahmed, the owner of Tower Tandoori, reckons he might have the last charcoal tandoor in London. The oven, traditionally cylindrical and made out of clay, has been imparting a smoky flavour to naans, chicken and chops at least since his grandfather opened the restaurant in 1978. Mr Ahmed estimates that the tandoor had already been running hot for a couple of decades under previous owners, meaning the oven would be only a little younger than an independent India. Soon charcoal-fired tandoors may also be hard to find in Mumbai, India's commercial capital. The local government has issued notices to scores of restaurants and food stalls that they must switch to greener alternatives, such as gas-fired or electric ovens, to help reduce air pollution; eateries have until July 8th to comply. (Authorities in Delhi also curbed the use of charcoal tandoors a few years ago.) Mumbaikars, as residents of the city are known, fret that their kebabs and naans will lose the distinctive—not to mention delicious—barbecue char. Restaurateurs say they are being unfairly blamed for air-quality problems, as construction and gridlocked traffic contribute to smog, too. The tandoor is ancient and its origins are disputed. Clay ovens used for baking bread are mentioned in 'The Epic of Gilgamesh", perhaps the oldest recorded story, and the term can be traced back to the Akkadian words for 'fire" and 'mud". Tandoors are still used across Asia. The modern variant seems to have made its way to India via the Mughals, a Central Asian Muslim dynasty that ruled much of northern India and present-day Pakistan before the British. Yet others claim an indigenous origin for tandoori dishes, finding evidence that the ancient Harappan civilisation (which spanned present-day Punjab) baked chickens in clay ovens. Either way, the tandoor became a mainstay of Punjabi cooking and tandoori chicken became a staple dish. A trio of Punjabi chefs pioneered the recipe, marinating the chicken in a mixture of yogurt and spices before grilling it. As refugees, fleeing the horrors that followed the bloody partition of India and Pakistan in 1947, the chefs brought the technique to Delhi, where it became a favourite of India's first prime minister, Jawaharlal Nehru. The dish spread all over the world with Indian emigrants. It even became a symbol of the former imperial metropolis: tandoori chicken was adapted into chicken tikka masala, perhaps Britain's favourite curry. The charcoal tandoor is burning out not just because it is dirty, but because it is expensive—due to the large, high-quality chunks of charcoal required—and because of the skill needed to handle the heat. Gas tandoors may be more efficient, yet their flavour is less robust. Discerning eaters will hope that centuries of culinary history do not go up in smoke.

New Indian Express
3 days ago
- New Indian Express
In Praise of the Samosa
If you know me even a little, you'll know about my unwavering love for the humble samosa. And now, with the monsoon clouds gathering over Delhi, that craving only grows stronger with every grey sky and cool breeze. I can't quite recall when this love affair with the triangular snack began, but I've sampled countless versions from different regions over the years. After much enthusiastic research, I've concluded that my favourites are the classic Punjabi samosa—stuffed with potatoes, coarse coriander seeds, a hint of salt, and, when in season, sweet green peas—and the Bengali singhara, with its delicate diced potato and peanut filling. Paired with garam chai served in a mati'r bhaar (clay cup), few things come close. Chef Naresh Kotwal of Ikk Panjab has, rather amusingly, taken it upon himself to fuel this obsession. Every time he spots me, he appears with a plate of piping hot samosas in hand. His version isn't the oversized, dough-heavy rendition so common outside Punjab. Instead, these are perfectly proportioned, with an ideal ratio of crisp casing to soft, flavourful filling. True to tradition, they are lightly spiced, relying on texture and balance rather than fiery heat—the way samosas are made across Punjab. Of course, it's no secret that the samosa didn't originate in India. Known historically as sambusek, its roots trace back to 7th-century Central Asia, particularly Kazakhstan. 'The original samosa was more of a dumpling,' explains food anthropologist Dr Kurush Dalal. 'A ceramic bowl would be filled with meat, sealed with dough, and slow-cooked inside a tandoor.' Like many culinary traditions, the samosa made its way to India along the ancient spice routes. It is widely believed that the Turks first brought it to the subcontinent. However, the original meat-filled version didn't quite suit the local palate. Over time, Indian resourcefulness transformed the samosa, giving rise to countless regional interpretations. In North India, you'll find the familiar potato-filled samosa, laced with coriander seeds; in Bengal, the delicate singhara, its filling of diced potatoes or seasonal vegetables; in Gujarat, the crisp, crescent-shaped ghughra packed with fresh produce; Bihar's hearty mutton samosa; the Jain community's dry fruit-stuffed variety; and, of course, the indulgent, sweet mawa samosa enjoyed across states, especially Rajasthan. At a recent event celebrating the launch of her book Monsoon: The Indian Season of Resilience and Flavour at Ikk Panjab in Connaught Place, Chef Asma Khan reminded us of how much of our food heritage has been shaped by cultural exchange. 'Just because invaders brought something here doesn't make it any less Indian,' she pointed out. 'We adopted it, adapted it, and made it our own—and how!' The Bohra community's arrival in India further added to this evolving tapestry with the 'patti' samosa—delicate parcels wrapped in thin sheets of dough, crisp and golden. The southern states took to this too, giving rise to Hyderabad's luqmi, typically filled with spiced mince or eggs, and Chennai's famed onion patti samosa. Among Bohras, the smoked toor dal patti samosa remains a shining example of culinary mastery. Given Delhi's reputation as India's melting pot, you'd expect to find versions of these samosas tucked away across the city. And you do—but not always in the way tradition intended. In a somewhat comical twist, the capital has embraced a modern lineage of samosas: chowmein samosas, pizza samosas, pasta samosas—the list continues. Places like Munni Lal Halwai in Chandni Chowk still serve the traditional, flaky-edged Punjabi samosa, bursting with potatoes, peas, and the unmistakable scent of coriander seeds. Meanwhile, Bangla Sweet House in Gole Market is known for its giant, generously spiced versions. Those seeking something different might find themselves at street stalls in Lajpat Nagar or Karol Bagh, where experimental flavours like cheesy pizza samosas or chowmein-filled varieties are all the rage. To be clear, I have nothing against these new-age samosas. They're fun, quirky, and—let's be honest—they taste more like spring rolls or calzones than the original triangular parcels of joy. But isn't that the beauty of it? Call it innovation, call it reinvention; every version adds another layer to our shared food history. There's room for them all to coexist—a crispy, spicy, flaky reminder that food, like culture itself, never stays still.


India.com
5 days ago
- India.com
Akbar's Legacy Lives On: THESE Cities In India Were Named After Mughals
photoDetails english The Mughal dynasty in India was an era of architecture, art, and culture. From iconic monuments like the Taj Mahal to several gardens and forts, the Mughals left behind a legacy that still defines the nation's historical landscape. Apart from the cultural footprint, the Mughals also had an impression on the Indian map, as many cities bear the names of Mughal emperors. Updated:Jul 01, 2025, 04:15 PM IST Bahadurgarh 1 / 9 Haryana's city, Bahadurgarh, was reportedly named after Mughal emperor Bahadur Shah. Aurangabad 2 / 9 Maharashtra's Aurangabad was named after the Mughal ruler Aurangzeb. However, it was later renamed as 'Chhatrapti Sambhaji Nagar', as per media reports. Shikohabad 3 / 9 Shikohabad is located in Uttar Pradesh and is known to be named after Shah Jahan's son Dara Shikoh. Farrukhabad 4 / 9 Farrukhabad is located in Uttar Pradesh. Shahjahanpur 5 / 9 Shahjahanpur is located in the state of Uttar Pradesh and bears the name of the famous Mughal emperor Shah Jahan. Akbarpur 6 / 9 One of the most popular emperors of the Mughal dynasty, Akbar, also has a place named after him. Areas of cities named after Mughals 7 / 9 Areas of several cities, like Delhi's Jahangirpuri, also bear the name of famous Mughal rulers. Credits 8 / 9 (This article is intended for your general information only. Zee News does not vouch for its accuracy or reliability.) Photo Credits 9 / 9 Photo Credits: All Representational Images/ Freepik