One dish. Five ingredients. A masterpiece by Azaan Qureshi.

Azaan Qureshi is part of the third generation of chefs from the legendary Qureshi family. His grandfather Imtiaz Qureshi started Bukhara and founded Dum Pukht and won a Padma Shri along the way. His father Gulam Qureshi is the custodian of Awadh’s culinary heritage, ensuring that Dum Pukht remains one of the world’s great restaurants. And Azaan today works with his father ensuring that Dum Pukht continues to stay relevant to newer generations. 

I had a wonderful meal with Azaan at Dum Pukht where he came in on an off day to supervise my meal and share details of how they were made. He is an incredibly bright young man, passionate and articulate with a great sense of self, steeped in familial knowledge but not trapped in by it, honing his craft by keeping the doors and windows of his mind open to food and learning from all over the world. 

He spoke about a dish he used to make before joining Dum Pukht cooked by the Muslims of Haryana called Junglee maas and it sounded fascinating. It uses just five elements. Mutton. Ghee. Chilli. Water. Salt. Not one other thing. It was a dish that was historically cooked when out hunting (originally with deer rather than mutton) because it allowed you to carry just ghee, chilli and salt, and take fresh water from a nearby lake or river and cook the meat you had hunted. He could see that I was salivating just listening to him talk about it and so he offered to cook it for me the next day. 

I went back for lunch just to eat this one dish and ended up with a culinary moment and memory I can never forget. This is one of the greatest dishes anyone can eat anywhere. It is a dish of stunning simplicity and barely believable sophistication. There is nowhere to hide if a single element is out of proportion. The balance has to be perfect. The cooking has to be perfect.  

And it was. Oh my god it was. You could carve through the meat with a butter knife, and dish had the body of the meat, the velvet of the ghee, the heat of the chilli and the earthiness of the salt, all coming together like some sort of culinary symphony. I took the Khameri rotis he made, crusty at the bottom, sort and pillowy on top, and mopped up every last drop of the gravy. I didn’t eat anything else. Not a drink. Not a dessert. I wanted to let that taste and that feeling linger, to try and hold on to that feeling of being blessed to eat that dish. 

And yes I am blessed. 

To see this brilliant young chef showcase his mastery of a dish that isn’t from the repertoire of his family’s legendary restaurant is a privilege. 

To have him come in early in the morning so the meat can be slow cooked is a privilege.

To have him cook this dish for the first time in seven years is a privilege. 

To eat this dish, with centuries of history and tradition behind it, a dish that contains memories of an entire community and dying way of life, a dish where the flickering flames of an ancient legacy are finding life in the passion and brilliance of young Azaan Qureshi is a privilege.

As Azaan goes beyond the Awadhi cuisine of his forefathers to trying to preserve, resuscitate and revive the great local dishes of North India I can only end by thanking him for this dish, for creating this unforgettable moment… and by wishing him well. May your star shine as brightly as your father and grandfather before you as you take your place in the beautifully lit culinary firmament.