WHEN it comes to hunting for good quality karahi gosht, there are a few hotspots scattered across Karachi foodies will swear by. The numerous eateries on the Super Highway, the place located at the end of the Lasbella bridge, along with the restaurants facing the Arabian Sea near Bilawal House immediately spring to mind.

But though these places might earn glowing mentions on any karahi honour roll (I personally think some are quite overrated), there is a place hidden away from the maddening rigmarole of city life that has earned cult status in the eyes of karahi connoisseurs.

To be quite honest, the Gul Malik Hasan Zai restaurant isn’t what it used to be. Or perhaps one was just hungrier and not quite as discerning during one’s younger days. And of course, things always seem better and indeed tastier in the past.But I digress. Nestled on a slight slope in a section of what are commonly known as the North Nazimabad-Manghopir Hills in the katchi abadi of Pahar Gunj, with Hussain D’Silva Town and North Nazimabad’s Block A lying below, perhaps the atmosphere of this joint sets it apart from the karahi competition. The hills – alive with the sounds of hungry karahi lovers – are a natural barrier between the middle class enclave of North Nazimabad and the sprawling working class shanty-towns of Orangi Town, Baldia, Qasba and others that lie beyond.

Here, a motley mixture of men gather for steaming karahis full of spiced meat, plates of daal or even a cuppa filled with saccharine-sweet doodh patti. They include working class Pakthun men, office workers on a men’s night out, quiet madressah students as well as the neighbourhood toughs.

A large high-tension electricity pylon stands smack in the middle of the restaurant’s entrance. It’s hard to decide which came first, considering the unplanned urban sprawl that constitutes the neighbourhood of Pahar Gunj. As your bike pulls up (the recommended mode of transport, as the spot’s a little tight for cars), you’re guided by adolescent valets directing traffic, armed with bamboo sticks, with whistles strung around their necks. A small band of well-fed puppies also greets you, scurrying about, waiting for half-chewed morsels of meat.

The restaurant is abuzz with activity at all hours of the day, but to truly soak in the atmosphere while digging into bowl-fulls of karahi gosht, one is advised to go at night, preferably on an empty stomach.

A friend told me he remembered visiting the joint as far back as 1988, when he and his hungry comrades would dig into karahi after a game of cricket at the nearby Bakhthiary Youth Centre. Perhaps it is older. Some of the fans from the North Nazimabad area swear that karahi aficionados come from as far afield as Defence to savour the fare.

This writer – along with an assorted band of culinary companions – decided to order half kilos each of chicken and mutton karahi (that’s right … that’s the way it goes in the Gunj: karahi by the kilo). The waiter yelled out our order to the maitre d’hotel in Pashto. I personally had reservations about ordering mutton, as the chicken version of karahi is the actual piece de resistance, but the overpowering majority of dining companions insisted on it.

The food takes a fair bit of time to arrive, and in the meantime we munch on a plateful of salad, albeit not part of the house menu. Like at certain other establishments, a freelance salad salesman carries around plastic bagfuls of salad at Rs10 (pay in advance) a pop. With a wedge of lemon and tangy masala attached, the cucumbers, carrots and radishes offer sustenance till the main course arrives, and even during the meal. For those big on salads this is a must, as the only accompaniment one gets with the karahi is sliced raw onions. And plenty of them.

At long last the karahi gosht arrives, steaming in large, deep steel pans, along with nans hot off the tandoor and bowls of yoghurt flavoured with black pepper and cumin. Considering the heavy duty meal, the yoghurt is ideal as it has a cooling as well as digestive effect.

The karahi gosht is awash in a sea of cooking oil, with pieces of meat glistening in gooey glory and bits of green pepper and tomato floating in the concoction. Mind you, this meal is not for the faint of heart or those watching their calorie intake. Though the mutton karahi is rubbery and undercooked (I stood vindicated), the chicken version is delicious, with just the right amount of spices. The green pepper is an ideal supplement for those with a spicier palate, and if the excess oil is drained away, one actually gets to taste a bit of the curry.

But be forewarned: order fizzy soft drinks (you don’t have much choice here … black or white) to make sure the meal goes down easy and don’t eat too late at night, unless you’re looking forward to a nasty bout of indigestion.