Not all biryani is made equal: 3 unique variations you need to try

Northern Malabar Kozhi Biryani

The first is from Kerala. I chanced upon this recipe in a recipe book I swear by, prosaically titled Biryani. It is one of my favourite biryanis to prepare at home and for guests. This chicken biryani from Kerala’s Malabar region is uniquely flavoured with coconut milk and fresh ginger. Unlike most biryanis, it remains white in colour, but don’t let that fool you—it carries a fiery kick, thanks to the green chillies and ginger. The coconut milk balances out the heat, lending the dish a creamy, fragrant depth.

Another standout element is kaima rice, the short-grained variety used in Kerala, which soaks up the coconut’s flavour well. Traditionally served at weddings, this biryani is a rare treat—but if you don’t have an invite to a Malabar wedding, I highly recommend making it yourself. It’s deceptively simple and absolutely delicious.

Ilish Biryani

My second favourite — Ilish Biryani or hilsa biryani — is from East Bengal and is considered a true delicacy. Ilish, an oily fish, is so prized that its annual availability sparks diplomatic battles between India and Bangladesh.

This is a Muslim-style fish biryani, lightly spiced to let the rich, natural flavour of the hilsa shine. If you aren’t favourably inclined to bony fish, I’d recommend replacing hilsa with any other river fish, but remember, the taste will change.

Durga Pujo feasts and wedding festivals often serve this, and I would personally give an arm and leg for it but I am usually torn between whether or not to eat my ilish or hilsa in a biryani or as a fry. If you can get a hold of some ilish, I’d encourage you to try one of my tried and tested recipes I will share below, but not before telling you about my third favourite biryani.

This chicken biryani from Kerala’s Malabar region is uniquely flavoured with coconut milk and fresh ginger. (Photo: Vivek Surendran)

Kolkata Biryani

I want to end with my all-time favourite biryani and a little bit of history behind it—the magnificent Kolkata biryani. Fragrant, lightly spiced, long-grained rice, each grain perfectly separate, smothering tender mutton and a large, peeled potato (aloo) boiled in the mutton stock. This potato, often considered the pièce de résistance of the dish, is so coveted that iconic biryani establishments like Shiraz and Royal even charge extra for an additional piece.

However, the presence of aloo in biryani is not unique to Kolkata. Across Iran and neighbouring regions, potatoes are commonly found in pilafs, often cooked in a similarly delicate, flavourful yakhni or meat stock. But one myth I’d like to dispel is the widely held belief that potatoes were introduced into Kolkata biryani out of necessity—because Wajid Ali Shah, the exiled Nawab of Awadh, could not afford enough meat after he arrived in Calcutta in 1856.

This seems far-fetched given that when he was released from incarceration, he chose to live in Metiabruz in Calcutta, where he quickly gathered a court of musicians, artisans, and, most importantly, a team of accomplished chefs and hakims. The Awadhi rulers were renowned connoisseurs of food, known for their kitchen innovations. Not just that, Shah used to get a pension of Rs 12 lakh annually, and was one of the highest-paid pensioners in India. In 1864, he had also founded what was considered the world’s first open zoo and spent 25 per cent of his income on the upkeep of animals. Doesn’t seem like a man who can’t afford meat.

It’s also in the early 16th century that potatoes, chillies and tomatoes were cultivated in India thanks to the Portuguese who had started growing potatoes in Surat. English traders brought potatoes to Bengal, and it was considered exotic at the time. History has it that as an innovation, one of the chefs in Shah’s kitchen added potato to the biryani cooked in dum-phukt style––with a lid––so that the flavours remain in the vessel and are soaked into the rice and meat, and now into the potato. Shah, clearly a man of great taste, supposedly said that no biryani will be cooked without potato after he tried it the first time.

So we must thank the Portuguese for the potatoes and the chilis that grace our dishes and Shah for the biryani, which brings together everyone. While we might not be breaking bread in India, I cannot think of one person, irrespective of religion or political leanings, who doesn’t want to break into a sealed bowl of biryani.

Now, here is the recipe for ilish biryani.

Ingredients

Basmati rice – 500 gm
Hilsa – 600-700 gm (5-6 pieces)
Hilsa head – 3
Mustard oil – 300 ml
Sliced onion – 3
Ginger paste – 1½ tbsp
Red chilli powder – 2 tbsp
Turmeric powder – 2 tbsp
Salt – to taste
Sugar – 2 tbsp
Green chilli paste – 1 tbsp
Mustard paste – 1 tbsp

Method

*To prepare the hilsa stock, marinate the hilsa head with turmeric and salt, then fry it in mustard oil. Set aside both the oil and the fried head separately.

*In a pot, add about a litre of water and the fried hilsa head, then boil for approximately 20 minutes to extract the flavours. Remove the head and simmer the stock, straining it carefully to eliminate any bones.

*Fry the onions until golden brown, and set them aside. Marinate the hilsa pieces with turmeric and salt, then fry them in the same mustard oil used for the head. In the same oil, add ginger paste, mustard paste, red chilli powder, and turmeric, then cook until fragrant. Pour in the strained hilsa stock and mix well. Strain the gravy using a fine sieve to ensure a smooth consistency.

*In a flat-bottomed utensil, bring water to a boil with a bay leaf and salt. Add the rice and cook until it is three-quarters done.

*Now, take a deep cooking pot and layer half of the semi-cooked rice at the bottom. Pour in the reduced hilsa stock, add the fried hilsa pieces, half of the mustard oil, and half of the fried onions. Cover with the remaining rice and repeat the layering with the remaining ingredients.

*Cover the pot with a lid and seal it tightly using foil or dough. Preheat the oven to 160°C and cook the pulao for about 30 minutes. Serve hot.

Next week, I’ll be writing on the five spice mix which is the cornerstone of Bengali cuisine!