Sartaj Noorani wears a heavy mantle on her delicate shoulders. Of an inheritance of culture, tradition, aristocracy; a way of life in which she was brought up and which she tries to continue with, as best as possible in the modern times we live. “Look, it’s very simple. If I don’t do it, it will die away. In my generation itself or the next. The least I can do, in memory of my forefathers, is to indulge, whenever opportunities arise, in all the rasams we grew up practising. Rasams are customs and she does practise them with aplomb. During marriages in the family, birthdays, milads for different occasions, even when friends’ children, not necessarily Muslims, are getting engaged or married or even going away for studies abroad.

“Lets talk food,” I tell Sartaj, conjuring Hyderabadi hospitality. “Oh, we can write a book on that. Food was the focal point. The dining table, the centre of the house! And mehman nawazi played a most important role. A guest was always cherished, he had after all taken time and trouble to come visit you in your home and you had to accord him honour, love and respect,” she replies, “It was not just when guests arrived but even as the family ate everyday, the table at my great grandfather’s house, Rahat Manzil was always immaculately set. The kitchen was across the dehlan (courtyard) in another building altogether. The sheer number of kitchen staff was staggering. The cooks were mostly men. The kamatans (masala pounders) were mostly women. The bawarchi and the khansama were not spoken to directly by my great grandmother, Asgari Khannam, Begum Abdul Jabbar, as she was known. We called her Amma Jaan. She would only speak to them through her moghlani, her main maid so to speak, whose job was to look after every small need of my great grandmother. Except that the moghlani was a major domo, a powerful figure who had her own battery of staff under her. Which of course led to power struggles and Manzil politics! But never mind that!” concludes Sartaj. In addition to all the food that was being cooked, the interesting aspect was also the grainary. The room where not only all the raw material was stocked but also the silver utensils, large trays and huge domes, in an area called the toshakhana.  Always kept under lock and key, the key being kept with just one person.

Apparently Amma Jaan was dynamic and fun. She would get all her children – now adults and married with kids – on the lawns behind Rahat Manzil for a cookout (the front lawns would have elephants and horses, used for transport!). She would break them up into teams, have each nuclear family – husband, wife and kids, cook a meal with ingredients she would choose. Then she would judge the dishes. She used to say, “If you know what good taste is, you should also know what goes into the cooking.” Other times she was out cooking in the dehlan, the courtyard. Surrounded by water fountains and dozens of kitchen staff and roaring wood fires, she would give instructions to the cooks.

Her specialities were many but Gile Beheshat, Arabic for Muck of Heaven or in Urdu, Jannat ka Kichad. A ‘raw’, uncooked sweet dish made of rice powder, ghee, rose water, ground almond and sugar, and tonnes of saffron. It was mixed and then kept being mashed in a lagan with the flat of one’s open hand in a rotational manner. Sartaj enlightens, “They would keep mixing this, till masal, masalke, the concoction had turned soft, bilkul mulayam. The final texture had to be just a bit grainy. Never mind if the palms had turned red!”

“But I have to tell you. We were blessed. I am grateful to God I have eaten food, one cannot even dream of. Apart from all the Hyderabadi delicacies which were the norm, we ate the best of Continental food. What happened was my mother’s friend, a Scotswoman, was returning home and we got lucky to get her well-trained Goan cook. He was brilliant. Goan cooks, known as maestries were the ultimate. Ours was called Fernandes. He would make the most amazing Continental fare. Meringues, soufflés, all in coal ovens! Yorkshire Pudding, Steak & Kidney Pie, Stuffed Turkey at Christmas, Chicken Maryland, Shepherd’s pie, Roast Lamb, Fish Baskets, Lobster Crab, in the shell. Literally everything was made at home;  ice-creams, chocolates, Syrup Sponge Cake, Sticky Toffee Pudding, even bread was baked at home. He used to make a nougat basket with candied fruits on top which we have never forgotten. Also great marzipan. His orange and ginger snaps with brandy cream inside was out of this world. My father used to say, Fernandes is not a cook, he is a supreme artist. The funny thing is, he drank a lot and the more drunk he was, the better the dish! He died when my daughter, Aida, was two years old.”

“What about what happens in your kitchen now?” I enquire. “Much the same, I decide the menu, I supervise. My taste buds don’t let me down. My cooks have been with me for decades, even the drivers have been there for 35 years! So I am in a comfort zone. My aunt, the late well-known cookery book author, Mumtaz Pasha, taught Sabira, my main cook, all the Hyderabadi delicacies. That is the cuisine we serve our guests. Almost always. Dishes such as Bagare Baingan, Mirch ka Salan, Dum ka Murg, Haleem, Hyderabadi Biryani, Dum ke Kabab, Shikampur Mahi Kaliya, Pasandey, Dalcha, Talawa Gosht and so on.”

Hyderabadi food, Sartaj explains, is not something that you can just whip up. Not a cuisine where you can cook in a jiffy. It is labour intensive. It had to be planned meticulously. The prep work begins even days before. The spices have to be ground, meat has to be marinated. When the actual cooking does start, almost every dish is slow-cooked, with some being tempered, others being bhunaod, browned, cooked until the oil separates from the meat. Takes time, patience and lots of love and care to achieve the final goal – the perfect dish!

However, Sartaj does inform me that they socialise and entertain far less these days.  “We do like to go eating out, as well as have friends over, but it’s far less frequent. You know how it is. Life changes. I reflect a great deal more. Our home is our world now. We like to spend quality time at home.”

While the Nooranis continue to eat Hyderabadi meals on a daily basis, the food is toned down. “The menu remains extensive, even if it is just the two of us, since Mohammad likes variety, but it’s a lot lighter. We have incorporated much more vegetables in our diet and we love Mahi ka Salan and grilled fish with Hyderabadi spices. Pomfret is the preferred fish, though rawas also finds its way to our table.” Breakfast is English; cereals, porridge, eggs made differently on different days, tea, marmalade, toast, papaya.