Tabish Rafiq Mir has spent his life eating in Srinagar through political clampdowns and military violence. He recommends some spots that have stood the test of time, against all state-led odds.
In his book Kitchen Confidential, Anthony Bourdain stated that a restaurant with a derelict toilet is almost definitely derelict itself, and that one cannot, and should not, trust the food that comes out of the kitchen of a place which pays no attention to its toilet. In more ways than one, the same is true for a household as well. There is, in fact, a Kashmiri metaphor: ‘nyeabre kalaeyi, aendre balaeyi’, which refers to a shiny and galvanised pot, overcompensating for the stench it carries on the inside.
Growing up, my very fastidious uncle, who would fold the bedding neatly every morning without fail, military style, would often tell me that if I didn’t respect my bistara (bed), it wouldn’t respect me back. “On the day of judgement,” he would say, kneading out the creases, “the bed would ask you if you did the right thing for it, and if you don’t have the right answer, you would be answerable to your bed.” Whatever the hell did he mean? Inanimate objects displaying symptoms of life? I didn’t think so.
“What does it matter?” I asked him, frightened, this one time the Indian army raided our homes and upended the neatly folded mattresses, stabbing sacks of rice and crushing the family photo albums, looking for something, anything, maybe even nothing. To this, he replied not in words, but by getting on his knees in an almost meditative seance, and folding the mattress again. “No creases,” he said, carefully scrubbing off the dirt marks from military issue boots and automatic rifles.
In the late 1990s in Kashmir—which coincided with my early childhood—the armed militancy had largely been crushed. However, military raids on residential neighbourhoods continued. In these raids, which were based on anonymous tip-offs and whims, entire households would be upended in search of anti-state paraphernalia. The value of upkeep during conflict, the simple act of making my bed in such times, dawned on me much later.
Later in the day, given there were no orders to shoot on sight the pedestrians coming out for food, my uncle would take off on foot, make the treacherous hours-long walk through the gullies of the downtown, all the way to the deserted city centre. He would brave the humiliations of infinite checkpoints and body frisks, and fetch for us from the other side of the town (now only 10 minutes away by car) a box of chocolate eclairs from Jee Enn Sons or Jan Bakery in Lal Chowk, the Srinagar city center. It was only then that the house would finally settle down; like we were holding a breath we then let go. In the 90s in Kashmir, a chocolate eclair or a cream roll was without doubt the best dessert a family of humble means could have. Children, only a few hours earlier traumatised by military raids, would now be wiping cream from their mouths.
He would brave the humiliations of infinite checkpoints and body frisks, and fetch for us from the other side of the town (now only 10 minutes away by car) a box of chocolate eclairs from Jee Enn Sons or Jan Bakery in Lal Chowk.
Having since eaten at the choicest bakeries in many parts of the world, I still relish those chocolate eclairs and cream rolls the most. Made by our cherished bakeries, and run by our very own people—who would find a way to prepare or procure fresh cream despite limited access to raw ingredients in a conflict zone—those eclairs were a thing of both comfort and pride. The chocolate that decorates the eclairs—airy and mildly sweet—is often used by bakers in Srinagar, giving the dessert a distinct feel of it being our own.
This list of foods to eat when in Srinagar is personal, and is of the date and political temperament of when it was written. So, if you are reading this after a long time of its publishing, chances are this might already be a few days too old. If things have changed for Kashmir, things have gone south again, and if blood has been spilled yet one more time, you must forgive me. In a place like this, one can only predict so much. Which is why a restaurant that can uphold and upkeep in Kashmir is an act of god—both dutiful and impossible against perpetual uncertainty.
And hence, it is important to date (remember) this list to when it was first conceived—November 2024—because a lot can and will happen to our favourite food places which might make the list impermanent, a reflection of the moment it was written and no longer. And when that happens, if that happens, remember to not begrudge it and our favourite eateries. After all, easy is not the burden of upkeep.
If you pay attention to the workings of an establishment, you will see that they are involved in the process of constantly, perhaps masochistically, infusing life, drop by drop, into a perpetually dying organism. In that spirit, let us try to understand the various causes that might lead to the swift, or worse, a gradual undignified death of an establishment.
- Changing of the staff
- Changing of governments
- Changing of the owner
- Death of the owner
- Death of the owner due to a romantic affair
- A romantic affair with the competition
- A military attack
- A militant attack
- Global warming
- Inflation
- Collective upending and destruction of society’s palate through the introduction of an invasive extravagant species such as KFC (Kentucky Fried Chicken), or DBC (Death by Chocolate, a dessert), and the likes.
Almost no cafe or restaurant here in Kashmir ever stands the test of time, and only those which provide easy, affordable, and decent quality food to people often do. These perennial affordable restaurants serve as anchors in otherwise infinitely unpredictable times. Against the odds, certain eateries, exuding a charm that people throng to, are able to self-sustain.
Such are these places on this list, which serve foods that the people of Srinagar turn to when they need to find consistency in unpredictability. This list exists in no particular order of quality, and the recommendations are here just as they came to my mind.
In the 90s and in the early 2000s, if you craved chocolate eclairs and cream rolls, Jee Enn Sons was the place to get them from. In the Kashmir of those days, there was perhaps nothing else as exquisite and democratic—a place where the middle and the upper class both would relish good chocolate and cream rolls—bakery items still alien to the then colloquial bakery of Kashmir which relied heavily on pasty dough and powdered sugar.
Bearing consistent quality and flavour that is not overwhelming or overbearing like its contemporaries, here you might try their exceptionally tasty and feather-light chocolate eclairs, crisp and crumbly cream rolls, chocolate fudge (round treats infused with in-house chocolate, dates, and nuts), and coconut biscuits. For me, the eclair has always had a gentle touch, both in the lightness of its ingredients and its nostalgic taste, which feel like the breezy caress of a grandfather’s palm placing a paisa for candy in yours.
- Address: MA Road, Regal Chowk, Munshi Bagh, Srinagar, Jammu and Kashmir 190001, Landmark: City Mall
Often, when I order only an item or two to go, the shop insists that the treat is free. In today’s world, where the focus is often on maximising profits at the peril of affordability, this place feels like a callback to empathy and values of erstwhile Kashmir—a distant past—generous and sustainable.
Many competitors—or, shall I say, contestants—stand in line here but the winner is clear. Nothing beats the taste of malai kulfi at the Moulvi Stop. To enjoy a kulfi late in the evenings in the stringent curfews of our difficult years, people would throng to Moulvi Stop, which would often offer respite from the chaos of the lower downtown, notorious for clashes between the police and the protestors, and now a place where the vehicular and foot traffic from many places converges.
When you get your kulfi, I implore that you wait two minutes (might vary depending on the weather) until the frosty surface of the Kulfi turns to a creamy, slightly-melty glimmer. It is then that you dig in with the wooden spoon they provide—a sign that if it cannot be sliced with a wooden spoon, you should not be eating it yet. This kulfi reminds me of the kulfis and phirnis of my childhood, from a time when milk, acquired in person from the milkman, was taken to be pure and had to be power-washed off the walls of your throat with a helping of water.
The man sitting behind the huge pot of kulfi is an octogenarian with a flowing beard, who has employed a young migrant from Bihar, who spent his adolescence dishing out kulfis by the thousands, as his apprentice. This duo offers, in addition to boastful kulfi, a promise of the communal harmony our ancestors would speak of.
- ADDRESS: MOULVI STOP, OPPOSITE J&K BANK, LAL BAZAR, SRINAGAR, JAMMU AND KASHMIR, 190023
Softies and mango shakes have become colloquial to Kashmir, in the same spirit as “mintry” (military) and “wan-tan” (one-tonne armoured military trucks), which embedded themselves in the Kashmiri language on account of their daily usage in our lexicon.
Softies and mango shakes have become colloquial to Kashmir, in the same spirit as “mintry” (military) and “wan-tan” (one-tonne armoured military trucks).
The best softie in Srinagar can be found at Erina in Lal Chowk, most often frequented by young romantics and their “cousins” (local euphemism for young love interests to be concealed from conservative families) from Tyndale Biscoe, Convent, and Burnhall—the schools in the vicinity. During late-night walks across Pratap Park, I am compelled to grab a mango shake or a softie, my favourite evening activities of indulgence when combined. Once you procure your treat, make sure to grab a seat across the road, with your back against the Pratap Park, and face towards the various offices of the Press Colony, many of which face unprecedented censorship now. Some years ago, it was in this very park that the Association of Parents of Disappeared People (APDP) headed by Parveena Ahanger, used to hold sit-in demonstrations for their kin disappeared by the Indian military. It is out of these news offices that reporters would know to come out and document this perennial phenomenon religiously. I imagine they would also sometimes stay back for softie.
- Address: Residency Road, Regal Chowk, Press Colony, Srinagar, Jammu and Kashmir, 190001
A Parisian adventure in Kashmir, Le Delice is the brainchild of a Kashmiri man, who learnt baking in France, and his wife, whom he met in France.
First opened at Ghat number 9 along the world-famous Dal Lake at Boulevard Road, Srinagar, in 2015, it is now stationed at several locations across the valley. This bakery deviates from the traditional or familiar, and experiments with Srinagar’s dessert palates.
Le Delice makes it to this list because it has managed to bring new flavours to and establish a foothold in a valley that, due to being mired in conflict, is fixated with routine and familiarity. It managed to break through the barriers of instability that often hit new establishments in this region. To some, Le Delice signifies the new Kashmir, not just in terms of the food it serves, but in its acceptance in Srinagar. It implies Kashmiris willing to flirt with adventure—a laudable thing to come out of a people wounded by war.
This place makes a Red Velvet Cake I hold among the top red velvets I have ever had. When served at birthday parties, guests pause, claw their thighs and the thighs of their immediate neighbours, and exclaim, “Excuse me, but where did you get this cake from?”
Their croissants are light and flaky, the closest to the French original you can find in Kashmir, which they also use for their mutton patties, an exceptionally bold move away from the traditional, infamously oily variety. In a place like Kashmir, Le Delice has proven that, if well done, palates can adapt, and learn to embrace the possibilities of a flavourful world, and that a people attached to their food through trauma, can embrace change.
- Address: Boulevard Road, opposite Ghat No. 9, Durgjan, Srinagar, Jammu and Kashmir, 190001
In our classroom in the early 2000s, there was one Hindu boy whose tiffin box was of great interest to me. I come from Habba Kadal, a downtown neighbourhood densely lined with empty houses of Kashmiri Pandits who had left their homes in a mass exodus just a decade earlier and, who, even a decade later, remained a part of daily conversation within the Kashmiri household. In our classroom of 46 Muslims and one Hindu, he held a special place. Even though he was not a Kashmiri Pandit himself, he served as a reminder of the kin we had lost.
For those of us who were born after the exodus, never having experienced a Pandit-Muslim community, the mystery of our lost neighbours was of great interest. To me, the tiffin of our Hindu classmate allowed me a glance into that world. I long wished to try those ghee-infused parathas, puris with sabzis, and chole in thick gravies designed to be scooped up with a handful of roti. In our household, just as in many Muslim households of the time, roti was meant only for chai. It was during this time that I resolved to myself that I would get my hands on such a meal eaten by the “other”. This was a fixation that I shared with several of my classmates.
In Srinagar, this itch was scratched, and scratched very well, by Shakti Sweets in Lal Chowk, whose chole bhature is my personal favourite and that of many others in Srinagar. Shakti Sweets is indubitably a pride of Lal Chowk in more ways than one, having never compromised on their quality through military and communal strife. They continue in Kashmir through various upheavals, despite threats and changes in times and regimes, and have persevered with a singular vision—consistency and steadfast quality.
- Address: Residency Road, Regal Chowk, Munshi Bagh, Srinagar, Jammu and Kashmir 190001
This one makes it to the list for how vastly it deviates from the others on the list. I was introduced to Modern Bakery by my seniors in school. Having a burger here, along with your seniors, is counted by some as a rite of passage into ‘hanging out’ as teenagers. The burgers of this place made its inroads when they were considered a vulgarity in Kashmir, an attack on tradition and culture, on account of them being an act of indulgence in an otherwise burning valley.
Today, the eatery’s offerings, of which the burgers are the magnum opus, are well-loved. As you enter the outlet in Karan Nagar, you first encounter an array of fast food—a counter which sells cookies, sandwiches, and lava cakes. They offer a veg burger, a veg cheese burger, a mutton burger, and a mutton cheese burger. Made with a combination of in-house patties and buns, the fast food here feels lighter on the gut than its mass-produced competition. It doesn’t boast of harsh sauces that paraglide and land on the walls of your heart, or sport prices that hurt the pocket.
Try out their choco lava cake, their tuolé biscuit (traditional kashmiri cookies), and their assorted cookie boxes which often come in varied flavours of almond. This place is yet another example of reliability and consistency, now cherished in a zone of conflict. Long before cafes were established in Kashmir—many of which failed because of shutdowns and curfews incurring huge losses—Modern Bakery provided burgers to the people of Kashmir, at an affordable cost, and exceptional taste.
I was introduced to Modern Bakery by my seniors in school. Having a burger here, along with your seniors, is counted by some as a rite of passage into ‘hanging out’ as teenagers.
While walking in or out, don’t forget to place a rupee or two in the donation boxes placed in the shop, the proceeds of which go to charitable NGOs based in Kashmir.
- Address: Near Land Mark Complex, Gole Market, Karan Nagar-190010
The relationship between Kashmir and its “Tibetan colony” in Hawal, Srinagar, is multifaceted. The inhabitants of this colony trace their roots to Kashmiris who emigrated to Tibet, married Tibetans, and then returned to Kashmir amid Muslim persecution, bringing back with them diverse Tibetan foods and culture. Long before Srinagar, landlocked by conflict when the world was merging into itself, tasted other cuisines, Kashmiris were familiar with the Tibetan momo, thukpa, and chow mein, among other things.
For those who grew up in the 2000s, Hamid’s momo in Hawal was their first rendezvous with the cuisine. As of today, Tibetan Momo House in Lal Chowk, and Fat Panda in Dalgate, also boast of delicious Tibetan food, albeit fine-tuned to the spice-craving palate of Srinagar.
At Tibetan Momo house, try the kothai momo, chilli garlic noodles, chicken manchurian, and the good old fried rice which comes in varieties of regular and ‘schezwan’. At Fat Panda on the Boulevard, you might try all of these in addition to their chicken wings and momo platters. At Hamid’s in Hawal, the first momo place we were familiar with, you may try their steamed momos.
- Address: Fat Panda–Opposite Ghat No. 5, Boulevard Road, Srinagar, Jammu and Kashmir 190001; Tibetan Momo House–Residency Road, Regal Chowk, SBI Colony, Munshi Bagh, Srinagar, Jammu and Kashmir 190001; Hamid Momo–Hawal, Sangeen Darwaza Road, Tibetan Colony, Badaamwari, Srinagar, Jammu and Kashmir 190003
While tourists relish beef and mutton barbeque along the Khayyam stretch in downtown Srinagar the most, locals know to frequent the Makai Point on the Boulevard, my favourite for barbeque. For as long as the barbeque at Makai Point is still affordable, may this list guide you there.
At Makai Point, my personal favourite is Dar Brothers Barbeque. While available in all seasons from late afternoon to late evening, I prefer to visit Dar Brothers only after sundown in the autumn and winter. The crackling fire roasting your choice of meat slowly, provides you warmth as you stand alongside the Dal in the evening is one of the most pleasurable experiences of the city. Their fish, chicken, and mutton barbecue, smoky and marinated well, are served with a variety of signature chutneys, and is one of the most commonly occurring dietary snack preferences of Kashmiris.
- Address: Dar Brothers Barbeque, Makai Point, Boulevard Road, Srinagar, Jammu and Kashmir, 190001.
In the freezing Kashmiri winters of the 1990s and early 2000s, Srinagar’s residents were plagued by the newly adopted bare concrete structures that provided no insulation unlike their mud-walled predecessors. This, coupled with endless power cuts and only the traditional Kashmiri firepot, Kaanger, to warm yourself up, it was impossible to get out of bed. There was however an incentive that motivated the most comfortable and the most reluctant to toss aside the mattress.
A mash of mutton, rice flour, onions, spices—a cousin of the famous Haleem of Hyderabad—a kilo of harissa brought home in a “ganj-baane” or a “hotbox” with the Kashmiri bread, girda, has been a historically beloved winter breakfast. People prefer their girdas in degrees of softness or crispiness. My family preferred the bread so thin and crispy, that it was only seconds away from being burnt. I have inherited this preference, and found it to be the perfect texture match for the soft, creamy harissa. This dish is only available in the winter.
In Kashmir, Aael Kadal, an eatery at the foot of a bridge that runs over river Jhelum, has become synonymous with harissa. Perched at a tiny window designed to keep out the winter draft, the chef himself starts taking orders long before the first light of the day, and dishes them out through this window. There is also the option of sitting inside, around the oven, and having hot harissa served to you in denominations of hundreds of grams, all the way up to the quantity that satiates your appetite.
- Address: Aael Kadal, Srinagar, Jammu and Kashmir, 190002.
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