A slow-cooked stew travels from street breakfast to royal table in author Sadaf Hussain’s exploration of Nihari and the spice blends that have shaped it.
Nihari’s origin story is perhaps a perfect one to illustrate how food travels across class and time. In Masala Mandi: A Guide to the World of Indian Spice Blends, author Sadaf Hussain describes it as a dish that began as a simple, nourishing stew for labourers after their morning prayers, slowly moving into royal kitchens where the recipe was refined, yet its essence remained unchanged. For Sadaf, nihari is a symbol of aspiration, of journeys from obscurity to recognition, and of the way dishes carry the memory of the people who make them.
The book itself is a study in Indian spice blends and what makes them so unique. Sadaf shows how a single dish can be shaped by several masalas made from the same whole spices, resulting in entirely different flavours. He threads personal experience with history, mythology, and cultural context, turning the spice trail into a flavour-led narrative.
This excerpt follows Nihari across Delhi and Lucknow, unpacking the rival origin stories, the subtle differences in technique, and the way one broth can carry the imprint of a city, a season, and a community, all at once.
Read an excerpt from ‘Masala Mandi:
Is it nihari or nahari? And was it born in Delhi or Lucknow?
To the first, I would say, the distinction lies in its etymology and consumption habits. ‘Nihari’ originated from the Persian ‘nahar’, meaning ‘morning’, highlighting its traditional role as a hearty breakfast for labourers after morning prayers, particularly in the cold winters of Delhi. Abu Sufiyan from Old Delhi’s Shahjahanabad always offers a clever twist to this query, saying, ‘Jise nihar ke khayi jaaye wo nihari aur jise nahar mooh khayi jaye wo nahari’ (That which is eaten after admiring is nihari, and that which is eaten with a flowing mouth is nahari). For the sake of history here, let’s stick to ‘nihari’ as the main word, which can also be pronounced as ‘nahari’.
The debate intensifies when the origins of nihari are discussed, with proponents from both Delhi and Lucknow vying for the culinary crown. The dish, infused with black pepper and history, was, according to writer Anoothi Vishal, initially prepared in the streets of Shahjahanabad (Old Delhi) to protect against the diseases borne by the cold waters of the Yamuna. This story from Delhi adds to the rich narrative, embedding the dish deeply within the cultural and historical fabric of the city. The story in the lanes of Lucknow, however, is that they created the dish during the construction of the Imambara complex by Asaf-ud- Daula, Nawab of Awadh, in 1784. This essentially means that there was a 145-year difference between the origin stories—I am more inclined to believe the Delhi version.
When we compare the two versions of nihari—Delhi’s and Lucknow’s—I find that the former is a little thick compared to the latter, which, in turn, tells me many things. First, it was perhaps the prototype created to feed the people who were creating the city and working throughout the day (with whole wheat flour as a thickening agent, adding a hearty consistency to this beloved dish). The origins of this spiced bone-meat broth are believed to have descended from Afghani shorwa with Babar. Enhanced with a spice blend to balance its rich meatiness, this broth incorporated ingredients like curd and coriander, transforming it into a dish that boosted both flavour and the workers’ immunity. However, when nihari made its way to Lucknow, it underwent a delectable transformation. In the early 1800s, during a severe famine, the khansamas of Lucknow refined the recipe to create a version that was thinner, smoother, milder and more aromatic than its robust Shahjahanabad counterpart.
What set the Lucknow nihari apart was the incorporation of shanks (nalli) and trotters (paya), which gave the broth a unique, sticky texture and rich, savoury flavours. This variation also introduced paan ki jhad, khus ki jhad, and gilla masala—a blend of brown onions, ginger and other spices—that elevated its complexity. When this culinary gem travelled to Bhopal, the begums there adapted it to suit local tastes, making the thinned broth even thinner.
According to Abdul Halim Sharar in Guzishta Lucknow, nihari was one of the most iconic dishes of Lucknow. This rich, aromatic beef stew was prepared overnight, allowing the
flavours to deepen and blend into a sumptuous delicacy. Sharar notes that nihari was so exceptional that even the wealthiest aristocrats would frequent the stall of Mahumdu, the famous vendor who perfected it.
In Delhi, some of the best niharis have found a home in Matia Mahal. Matia Mahal, a street echoing the resonant past of a bygone era, was once synonymous with the grandeur and opulence that epitomised Mughal Delhi. Positioned adjacent to the Jama Masjid, this historical thoroughfare was a vibrant enclave, where nobles and royalty indulged in the luxuries of Mughal life. The street was named after a Mughal Begum and was famed for its refined culture, hosting an array of shops selling exotic perfumes and luxurious goods. The perfumers of Matia Mahal were not mere traders—they were artists who captivated the senses with their aromatic concoctions that lingered in the air, weaving tales of romance and splendour.
At the zenith of its splendour, Matia Mahal was also known for its hammams—luxurious public baths that nobles and courtiers would retreat to in order to escape Delhi’s harsh, sweltering heat. These hammams were not just about cleanliness; they represented opulence and served as places where hidden treasures and stories of wealth added to their mystique. Today, the opulence of the past has faded, and the street has transformed significantly. Matia Mahal is now renowned, not for perfumes or palatial baths, but for its vibrant culinary scene. It has become a gastronomic destination, famous for its array of street food, where the scents of kababs, curries and breads fill the air, drawing both locals and tourists alike. It’s a haven where the legacy of the Mughals flavours meets the dynamism of regular people.
Traditionally, the meat used in nihari has remained consistent. Street vendors often serve it with beef or buffalo meat, while upscale restaurants prefer mutton or lamb. The choice of cooking fat could be robust mustard oil or ghee. Traditional Lucknow nihari has whole spices packed in a small potli of muslin cloth to give only the flavour and not stay in the dish. The potli gets discarded once the dish is ready.
In Agra, nihari often features bone-in-meat, a tradition that extends to Bihar and Jharkhand. The essence of nihari is intertwined with beef or buffalo meat, while paya refers to its mutton or lamb counterpart. Each region adds its unique touch, yet all versions agree on the inclusion of red meat. Interestingly, in Lucknow’s treasured culinary heritage, you can also find chicken and quail nihari.
Unlike its crimson counterparts, Lucknow’s nihari boasts a yellowish hue, courtesy of the saffron and yellow food colour. This golden variation stands in stark contrast to the deep red gravies preferred in Delhi and other states, where such a colour might be considered unacceptable. What is acceptable, however, in Delhi is the ‘taar’, which means leftover nihari from the previous day/cauldron being mixed in the fresh batch to maintain the continuity and depth of flavour in the new batch. Regardless of these variations, a generous ghee tadka graces every bowl, adding a rich, buttery finish that is universally adored.
This excerpt is from ‘Masala Mandi: A Guide to the World of Indian Spice Blends ’ by Sadaf Hussain published in 2024 (Penguin Random House India). Excerpted with permission from the author and the publisher.
Sadaf Hussain is a chef, food writer, and two-time TEDx speaker who co-hosts the podcast ‘Naan Curry’. His work spans restaurant consulting, research projects, and essays that explore not just food but the histories, customs and stories surrounding it.
To cook along with the chapter, check out Sadaf Hussain’s nihari recipe on The Locavore, here.
In December 2025, Sadaf led a street food walk at Shaheen Bagh, Delhi for the The Local Food Club community
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