Saffron and Pearls
A memoir of family, friendship & heirloom Hyderabadi recipes
DOREEN HASSAN
Photographs by Cyrus Dalal
Edited by Chinmayee Manjunath
For my loving husband Peter,
who, true to his name, has always been my rock.
With his love and support, I have been able to
build my world
And my darling children, whom I love very much, and am truly grateful for
Anisha, Vijay, Rhea & Raoul
Nihal, Neha, Anahi & Riaan
Sahil, Neha, Anaia & Aliana
Contents
Foreword
INTRODUCTION
A note from a friend
A life of good food and wonderful friendships
From our family to yours
The Hassans of Hyderabad
How to Use this Book
Vegetables and Dhals
Meat and Poultry
Seafood
Biryanis and Pulaos
Rotis
Pickles and Chutneys
IN THE CITY OF SAFFRON & PEARLS
Warp and weft: Preserving history
Snacks
Sweets
AT HOME WITH THE HASSANS
A happy life in a happy home
My advice for hosting parties
My favourite menus
The white menu
Closing Note
Acknowledgements
About the Book
About the Author
Copyright
Foreword
The Hyderabadi believes – ‘Khaate waqt aata hai dost. Sotey waqt aata hai dushman.’ (A friend visits at mealtime. An enemy visits while you sleep.) Each culture is known by its culinary traditions, said Abdul Halim Sharar, the prolific Urdu journalist, chronicler and novelist who is best remembered today for his literary publication,Guzhista Lucknow. The rare refinement that gave birth to Hyderabadi cuisine can only be understood by reflecting on its history and culture. The roots of what we now know as Hyderabadi cuisine may be traced to a coalescence of several strands of cultural and culinary heritages.
From the foundations of ancient Telangana, the overlapping present states of Maharashtra, Andhra Pradesh, Karnataka and Odisha; and the historical populations from erstwhile Mughal North, Turks, Persians, Arabs, British, not to speak of Kayasthas, Marwaris, Parsis and Bohras – Hyderabadi cuisine as we know it now has all these influences. And as an aside, during British rule, many Lucknowi families, administrators, khansamas, poets and other artists migrated to Hyderabad, which was ruled by the Nizams and known for its extraordinary wealth and opulence. The Awadh dynasty, too, being from the Shia sect had attracted a large number of Persians, or Iranians, and perhaps Peter Hassan’s reference to his Iranian roots and its possible influence on his home cuisine in Hyderabad lie there. My own grandmother was a Shia from that region.
The above-mentioned branches and strands of cuisine assimilating an extraordinary range of global diversity in spices, grains, roots, vegetables, fruits, legumes, herbs together with habits and lifestyles of notable order have brought to bear on what is now called Hyderabadi cuisine, which could well be described as Deccani or Dakhni fare or, more appropriately, Nizami cuisine of the state that evolved from the table of the Nizams and the migrant nobility. As there were limited dining options outside, the Hyderabadis entertained mostly at home, hosting elaborate wedding ceremonies and celebrating festivals such as Eid, Ramazan, Diwali and Dussehra.
In the traditional style, old Hyderabadi families ate their daily meals laid out on dastarkhans and they were seated at chowkis during celebrations, festivals and get-togethers. Food was usually served all together but typically eaten in courses. Different communities settled in Hyderabad for long may have some variations in the overall composition of recipes to suit the palate, but broadly the order of service remains the same and individual dishes could be claimed as house specialities indeed as it would be elsewhere. All in all, Hyderabadi cuisine has not been on the sidelines and has an unmistakable imprint on the national stage.
Doreen’s wonderful book contains the classic dishes but also several lesser-known recipes. Peter always calls her the anchor of his life, which she is, as she successfully moors the family together and graciously hosts friends, such as myself. For I have been a constant guest at the Hassan home for decades and am truly an example of the fact that khaate waqt aata hai dost! I do believe that this rare cookbook with its priceless recipes and fascinating family history will introduce everyone not just to Hyderabad and its cuisine, but also the Hassan family.
Habib Rehman
Introduction
A NOTE FROM A FRIEND
When I learnt that Doreen Hassan was working on her food memoir, I was delighted because she is, without a doubt, one of the best cooks and hostesses in the world. She and her husband, Peter Hassan, are not just a lovely couple who are truly made for each other, but are also hosts with the most, as it were! Recently, when Peter found out that I had a day free between the IPL matches in Hyderabad, he flew down from Delhi especially with Doreen and the family and we had one of the most memorable evenings with delicious food and wonderful company. Ours has been a long and cherished friendship.
An invitation to dine at the Hassans’ involves not just the finest wines and a spread of food that would make any connoisseur happy, but there is also an eclectic guest list, which encourages scintillating conversation and lively discussions on various topics. One comes back from their home with a full stomach, an engaged, recharged mind and new perspectives. First-time visitors to the Hassans’ become friends for life with Peter, Doreen and the rest of the family, of course, but find new acquaintances among their guests too.
While Doreen, whom Peter affectionately calls Doe, always makes sure she welcomes guests and makes them feel at home, she’s also in and out of the kitchen, effortlessly ensuring that the meal is done to absolute perfection. I must confess here that I am not a foodie. I’ve been a frugal eater as I fear putting on weight. I am, therefore, not a good person to invite as the host thinks that I did not enjoy the food. Having said that, when the company is great and the evening enjoyable, then I do let go of my inhibitions and eat to my heart’s and stomach’s content – maybe seven to ten days a year now. One of these days is invariably at the Hassans’ home.
Given their Hyderabadi roots, the biryani that Doreen makes is delicious. The only other one I have eaten that matches up was at Mohammad Azharuddin’s home at the start of his Test career; his mother hosted us and all these years later, the flavours still linger in my taste memory. Doreen’s biryani is similar and equally memorable; the meat is soft and succulent and the flavour of the rice just makes it divine. There is incredible attention to detail in each dish on the table. In a chicken dish, for example, the meat is sliced into small pieces, and thus doesn’t require you to use a knife to cut it, which is ideal when you are pairing it with rice or rotis.
Doreen pays as much attention to the vegetarians among her guests. The Baghare Baingan and Mirchi ka Saalan are always outstanding. I also particularly enjoy the Reshmi Parathas and Sheermals, which are delicately layered and out of this world, especially if you dip them in Hyderabadi Dhal. Most restaurants serve Dal Makhani or Tadka Dal but Hyderabadi Dhal is unique, with just enough spice so it does not overwhelm the other dishes, but enhances them. These are the dishes I remember from all my years of eating Doreen’s incredible food, and I am sure this book is a treasure trove of many more recipes.
There is little doubt that everyone who buys this book will add to their culinary expertise and that, I think, is the easy part. What is rarer, and perhaps should be aspired to, is Doreen’s unmatched generosi
ty as she watches over her guests. And, finally, her pure joy when they compliment her for the meal she made them. Each and every time.
Sunil Gavaskar
A LIFE OF GOOD FOOD AND WONDERFUL FRIENDSHIPS
If someone were to ask me to describe my life, I would say that I never could stop counting my blessings.
I grew up in a large, loving family and our home in Hyderabad was always open to anyone who wanted to walk in, share a meal, have a laugh and be a friend. And this is still true, decades later, in Delhi – my wife, Doreen, and I share a home with our children, their spouses and grandchildren, and are fortunate enough to have people from all walks of life come home to eat with us and make memories. I firmly believe that generosity and hospitality have very little, or maybe even nothing, to do with money.
When I was growing up, as the eldest of seven children, it was not an extravagant life at all – just a happy one. My mother, Mary Tarachand, was originally from Kolkata but had moved to Hyderabad with her uncle, James Tarachand, who was a very wealthy man, and she was his only ward. I am told by everyone that she was very loved and pampered by her uncle and I remember her as a beautiful person in every respect. I might be biased but she was a legendary beauty and many were supposed to be courting her, fortunately unsuccessfully. My father, Khurshid Hassan, whom everyone – including his children – called Kuchu, was part of a unique and distinguished old Hyderabadi family. His mother, Fakhrul Hajia Begum, was Persian, and his father, Syed Ameer Hassan, was from an aristocratic family with its roots in Etawah, Uttar Pradesh. Several of our family members played a prominent role in India’s fight for independence.
Unfortunately, I don’t know how my parents met and decided to get married; when I think about it, this match between an aristocratic young woman and a dreamer of a man seems almost like fiction but they were in love. I was born in 1944 in our ancestral home in Lakdi ka Pul, in Hyderabad. My father was a hands-on parent because my mother was often too exhausted to do much but he called her Rani Ma and absolutely doted on her. Every day, he would get all seven of us ready for school, cook the family meals, do everything to keep the house running and manage to keep the atmosphere at home cheerful and hopeful, despite constraints.
Those were magical years for us as a family. Though we faced many challenges, we found comfort and happiness in one another. There was a great emphasis on education and my father made sure we all went to good schools and studied hard. I think the greatest lesson we learnt as children was that love is what is permanent – money comes and goes, luxuries come and go, but if you build strong bonds with family and friends, these become your major asset.
In the first week of every month, we ate well. My father came from a family of food connoisseurs, and he was a brilliant cook. His signature dish was Palak Gosht, which is lamb cooked with spinach. Kuchu would buy the meat from his favourite butcher in Moazzam Jahi Market, and buy ghee from a famous shop called Ahmed Ghee Ghar. At one point, we lived in King Kothi, near the palace; the house had no kitchen and so my father cooked outside, in the open. We children were always fed first and if someone walked into the house as we ate, my father would give them his own plate, with a big smile, and go hungry himself. He was an incredible human being.
Eventually, we moved into a house called Aasra, which means shelter. I had stealthily orchestrated the buying of the house using a signed cheque of my mother’s without my parents’ permission. Despite that, it all worked out well and Aasra became the first home we owned as a family. In the meantime, I graduated in 1964 and started working, even as I continued my education in a night school. The ₹60 a week that I earned helped run the house.
Tragically, our happy little world was turned upside down on 11 October 1966, when my father passed away from a sudden heart attack. And I found myself the head of the family at twenty-two, with six siblings to look after and prepare respective roadmaps for each.
Forced to find a job that paid well, I travelled to Vishakapatnam to join a company called Coromandel Fertilizers. My cousin, Abid Hussain, who was the collector in that district, had helped me. I reluctantly packed a steel trunk and got on a train to my new life. Initially, I stayed with a friend but my cousin and his lovely wife, Karki, insisted I stay with them, which was incredibly kind and helped keep me sane as I commuted to and from work on a rickety bus, far away from the world I had grown up in. Not only did they give me a roof over my head, but also the abundant love of an adorable couple from whom I learnt the art of loving and living. I owe an uncountable debt of gratitude to Abid Bhai and Karki Bhabhi for giving me the confidence to live and let live.
Two years later, I came to Hyderabad and started working with Warner Hindustan, which is where I met Doreen, who is a cousin of my dear friend, Eugene Campos. I knew the minute I saw her that I wanted to marry her and we did marry, despite objections. My mother and siblings absolutely doted on Doreen from the minute she first walked into the house, even before we were engaged. We have now been together over forty-five years and I feel grateful that we have built a happy little world full of love and meaningful friendships. Our gratitude remains.
As my father’s son and a member of my large-hearted family, hosting people is important to me. If I have time to spare, I like to spend it with people and always say that I would rather make a friend than watch a movie. Doreen has been at the centre of this world – she has supported me, helped me and been a wonderful hostess to everyone who walks into our home. Because you know, when we got married, she did not know how to cook and, above all, she is vegetarian. So, to have learnt all these exquisite dishes from members of our families and recreate them over and over in our home is truly incredible.
Always elegant, inherently beautiful and ever-smiling, she remains our greatest inspiration and this glow has devolved on each member of our immediate family that now numbers a total of fourteen, including me.
Peter Toghrille Hassan
FROM OUR FAMILY TO YOURS
Putting this book together, gathering recipes and stories, has really been a journey back in time for me and the family. What made the process of having conversations with family and friends, recounting memories and arguing over anecdotes, gathering photographs and revisiting the past even more special is the fact that in 2016, my husband, Peter (Toghrille to many), and I marked forty-five years of marriage. Like every couple, we’ve had our ups and downs but, together, Peter and I have managed to make our lives happy and build a world full of love, warmth, friendship and good food. We keep an open house – everyone who steps into our home is always made to feel welcome and is asked to have a meal with us. And this has been important to us because hospitality and generosity are among the many gifts we have inherited from our Hyderabadi lineage.
When we moved to Delhi in 1976 as a young couple with two small children, it was not always possible to host elaborate meals but we did the best we could with what we had. It’s funny and emotional for me to think back to that time because I did not even know how to cook! Peter would order in meals, or we would depend on the household staff to help us. And now when I effortlessly draw up menus, get in the kitchen to make elaborate dishes and receive compliments for our table, I often remember the young woman I used to be who didn’t even know how to make tea. I still don’t make tea, I must confess, but I have managed to carry forward the culinary traditions of both our families, and the city we call home.
I was born in Secunderabad into a Goan Christian family, the Fernes. We trace our lineage back to the Chitrapur Saraswats, a small, Konkani-speaking Brahmin community that shares its genealogy with Kashmiri Pundits. At the time of the Portuguese rule in Goa, many Saraswats converted to Christianity and my family was one of them. Our roots lie in Saligao, one of the greenest and most quaint villages in Goa, but my father’s mother was born and raised in Hyderabad and after marrying her, my grandfather, who had lived in Goa and Uganda, made the city his home too. He joined his father-in-law’s chemist business and set up a dispensing chemist shop, called
J. Faust & Company in Secunderabad; my father, Lui Fernes, took over the business with my uncle and ran the shop.
My mother Emma’s family were from Assagaon, in Bardez, Goa, but she was born and raised in Karachi. In 1948, my parents were married and my mother moved to Faust Mansion, the family home in Secunderabad. I was born in Faust Mansion, which was a traditional Goan home in the middle of a cosmopolitan city. We led a simple life as a large family, and our days were governed by church, work or school, meals and the time spent together. I grew up not eating meat, much like my father, I ate seafood though and still do. The food in our home was traditional Goan cuisine.
My grandmother, Armin, whom I called Mama, was a fabulous cook. She had mastered the best of Goan dishes – prawn curries, fish curries, vindaloo, sorpotel and so much more. She was famous in the community for her feasts at festivals and she even made a range of jams at home, which we would relish at breakfast. We never ate Hyderabadi food; at the most, one of my aunts would make a biryani and raita to take with us whenever we went on a picnic.
I studied at St Ann’s Convent, which is still considered one of the best schools in the city. Two of my aunts taught there, so even when I was out of the house, I couldn’t get up to any mischief! When I finished college, however, I wanted to start working, to step out of the small little world that had nurtured me, and see what lay outside. Luckily for me, a family friend who worked with a company called Warner Hindustan offered to have me work in the same office. My parents agreed and took comfort in the fact that he would pick me up every morning and drop me home every evening. I loved working, and for the first six to eight months, things were quiet in the office because the firm was in the process of moving its factory and administrative operations to Hyderabad. I had no idea how my life was going to change as work in the office began to pick up speed and new people joined the team.
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