How the tandoor became the soul of Delhi’s food culture through the hands of Punjabi refugees

A tandoor, or Indian barbecue, is usually a cylindrical clay oven built or placed atop a charcoal or wood fire. In earlier times, it was dug into the ground, with only the oven’s neck exposed, to ensure the fire and heat lasted longer.

From Harappan civilisation to Punjabi refugees

The tandoor can be traced back to the Harappan civilisation. In Kalibangan, Rajasthan, excavations revealed two small mud-plastered ovens with a side-opening that strongly resembled today’s tandoors and dated back to around 2600 BCE.

There’s a theory that, along with the tandoors, there might well have been tandoori chicken, since paintings of chickens on a pot were also found during the excavations. No tandoori broccoli here.

Over time, the tandoor moved from Kalibangan further across Rajasthan and Punjab. In the 13th century, Amir Khusrau documented the preparation of naan-e-tanuri in a tandoor in the imperial court in Delhi.

There is also Central Asian and Mughal influence and innovation, with nomads carrying portable tandoors and introducing new flavours and ingredients. Mughal rulers, especially Jahangir, embraced tandoori cooking and introduced smaller, portable versions of the tandoor, as well as the use of richer spices to flavour dishes cooked in the oven.

A tandoor, or Indian barbecue, is usually a cylindrical clay oven built or placed atop a charcoal or wood fire. (Photo: Freepik)

It’s in the North West Frontier Province that these tandoors began being used to cook meat on skewers, including tandoori chicken. Of course, today’s tandoori chicken is cooked on open grills or barbecues with coal.

In Punjab, there’s sanjha chulha, which was a community tandoor used almost exclusively for the making of breads. People brought dough from home and used the community tandoor to bake their rotis or naans.

The clay tandoor has also been found in ancient Egyptian and Mesopotamian civilisations during excavations.

The concept of the tandoor as we know it became prevalent in North India after Punjabi refugees arrived from Pakistan in 1947, and because Delhi saw such an influx, hundreds of tandoori restaurants mushroomed in the national capital.

Distinctive flavour, healthy cooking style

There is a flavour to the tandoor which no barbecue, however posh, can ever replicate. Because the tandoor is constantly heated by either coal or wood, the burning smoke imparts a very distinctive flavour to the rotis or the meat being cooked. Propane gas will rarely have the same flavour profile.

The heat from the bottom of the tandoor is similar to the effect of baking; the direct heat from the wood or charcoal allows the meat or vegetables to be grilled, the smoke emanating as a result of the marinade dripping off the food being cooked gives the smoky flavour, and the hot clay walls of the tandoor have the same effect as a griddle.

This is as hot as it gets, and you’ll notice that no one who cooks regularly in a tandoor will have any hair on their arms – it gets singed off.

Also, the high heat of a tandoor requires very little or no fat for cooking, because of the multiple cooking processes that take place there.

The cooking style is popular and flavourful, and I discovered this while researching this article — tandoori cooking has also found its way to Turpan, a city in China’s Xinjiang province.

Turpan was a key outpost on the Silk Road, a highway of trade routes connecting China, the Middle East, and Europe. And along with the spices, silk, and textiles, the traders brought back the wonder of the tandoor to Turpan when they would carry their ovens with them while travelling from outside China.

The population of primarily Uygur Muslims in the city has created street markets with tandoors cooking dumplings, naan, and kebabs.

If you’re worried about eating healthy but don’t want to consume only quinoa or steamed egg whites, tandoori cuisine is what you should choose. Make your way to a tandoori restaurant, preferably one of the smaller outlets that dot many markets, and heat yourself and your palate with a plate of piping-hot kebabs and rotis pulled from the tandoor.

Next week, I will be writing about Delhi’s winter specialty — Daulat ki Chaat, a delicate cloud of milk froth, cream, saffron, and sugar.