June 08, 2006

Other than at thanksgiving, it is customary to serve dhansak on the fourth day after a funeral. So while it may be a regular feature for Sunday lunches, dhansak is never a menu option on birthdays and anniversaries, writes Saima S. Hussain


There is much to be thankful for when one is fortunate enough to have a generous friend who invites you to partake of dhansak at a thanksgiving feast.

Ghambars, as Parsi thanksgiving feasts are called, were originally agricultural in nature, but as Zoroastrianism spread far and wide they took on religious significance as well. The ghambars, today, are great occasions for feasting and community get-togethers. The Zoroastrian year has six seasons and there is one major celebration in each season, but the summer ghambar in the month of Dae is perhaps the most popular.

Each Parsi residential compound in Karachi organises its own festivities. Prayers or jashan were said earlier in the evening, led by priests who visited the compound for the occasion. Participants gathered in the common area amid a strong summer night breeze, with the sound system piping soft rock music in the background.

The tables and chairs were set up in long rows so that the maximum number of people were seated facing each other. While most were local residents, a sizable number of friends and family from other compounds also joined in.

Zoroastrian feasts are elaborate affairs. In a nod to modernity, hired caterers had cooked the meal instead of a group of women as was the norm. Also, in lieu of the banana leaves that were once used as eating platters, sheets of cardboard fortified with butter paper were laid out on the tables.

A well-trained team of waiters began to lay out servings of food in front of each guest. First there came a small bun. It was soon followed by some achar, that was heavy on the tamarind; and kachumbar, which is diced onion and flecks of green chillies marinated in lemon juice and lemon wedges. Each food item that was served, even down to lemon wedges, had some traditional significance attached to it.

The first course is always chapaatis and aloo gosht. The chapaatis were slightly crisp as they had been brushed with some oil. The potato pieces in the aloo gosht had also been lightly fried before being stewed, as they had a similar slightly crispy coating which made all the difference in taste.

As a first-time eater off butter paper-fortified sheets, one was constantly concerned that the thick gravy would seep through and stain the tablecloth. This was not the case, however, and one became further convinced of the benefit of easy clean-up afterwards.

Then, without any further ado, came the main course. Waiters ladled out portions of brown rice that accompanies dhansak. Hot and fragrant, the rice was garnished with caramelised onion and whole spices such as cloves, pepper corns and cardamoms. It looked tempting enough to eat on its own, but then came the evening’s star attraction.

Made with an assortment of lentils and vegetables that are blended together into a paste, dhansak can be made with chicken, lamb or even with vegetables, but for ghambars the mutton version is a must. Dhansak is similar to what most Pakistanis know as halim or the Arabs call harissa, but with its unique spicy, sweet and tangy flavours it is probably closest in taste and texture to the delectable daalcha from Hyderabad, Deccan.

While most were eating the tasty concoction with rice; others were seen eating it on its own and some were even enfolding it into bits of chapaati. There was none of the fried onions, ginger, coriander and green chillies that accompany halim but plenty of kachumbar and lemon wedges to add to the zest. Interestingly, as a rule dhansak is never served on happy occasions. Other than at ghambars, it is customary to serve it on the fourth day after a funeral. So while it may be a regular feature for Sunday lunches, dhansak is never a menu option on birthdays and anniversaries.

By the time dessert came along –– a decidedly non-traditional mango ice cream –– the brand new dhansak enthusiast was too full to move and almost had to be rolled off the chair and out of the compound. The next summer, ghambar is only a year away, as the Parsis would say, Chalo jumva avoji….Come, lets eat.