A trip to Lahore, especially in spring, serves as a reminder that even in these violent times, there are many things to (quite literally) savour in Pakistan. Apart from meeting old friends, I was able to enjoy a few memorable meals, the culinary pleasures of which were enhanced by the surroundings.

My host and old friend, the well-known artist Mian Ijaz ul Hasan, had organised a day trip to his lovely farm near Sheikhupura. I have been a regular visitor for many years and each time there has been some improvement. What started as a modest farmhouse has now grown into a considerable villa. We sat outside to imbibe the mandatory pre-lunch concoctions, and then moved to the veranda for lunch which consisted of a creamy spinach dish, together with a veal karahi and a chicken curry. The roti was wonderfully chewy bread made with desi flour. All this great food was washed down with lassi.

The third member of our small party was Javed Masud, another old friend. When I mentioned a great chicken chohla, or chickpea, place in Anarkali, he offered to get some from a joint he knew. He invited us for lunch to his house a couple of days later, which turned out to be an elaborate affair with the spicy chohlas one of the several dishes on the table. The famous Ravi khagga used to be commonly available, but now pollution has made this river fish an endangered species. Javed had managed to procure some, and they were served in a delicately spiced curry.

I had gone to Lahore to attend Asma and Tahir Jehangir’s son’s wedding. They are very old friends and had an open house for several days before the wedding. It was wonderful catching up with people I hadn’t met in years and listening to old wedding songs being belted out with gusto. Guests have always eaten well at TJ and Asma’s, and their son Sheikhu’s wedding was certainly no exception. The wedding party itself was at something called the Royal Palm, located at the old Railway Golf Club where we used to quaff Murree’s finest, and eat wonderful seekh kebabs after a swim.

Having heard of a new restaurant at the Avari called the Luckhnavi that served food from Lucknow, I persuaded Ijaz and his wife Mussarat to let me take them there on my last evening in Lahore. Now I’m not a great fan of hotel cuisine as I find that most of their restaurants tend to serve fairly bland, nondescript food. However, the Avari has been an exception to this rule. The Fujiyama was for years the only restaurant to serve Japanese food in Pakistan, for example. So I ordered dinner with some confidence.

The elaborate menu offered a wide range of Awadh fare. The state was once famous for its refined cuisine, and aristocrats paid vast sums to entice the best chefs in India to their kitchens. The legendary ‘dumpukht’ style of cooking in which the dish is sealed with dough and simmered over low heat is supposed to have its origins in Lucknow. Sadly, the only meat dish cooked in this style at the Luckhnavi was a full leg of lamb, and I thought that would be a bit ambitious for just three of us. We ended up by ordering a dish called ‘Nihari Paya’, a meaty offering cooked in the classic trotters spices. This was an unctuous, mildly spiced dish with plenty of liquid to soak into the excellent khamiri nan.

Our second choice was kakori kebab. These are made with finely ground beef or lamb mixed with cinnamon, cardamom, green chilli, black pepper, cumin and onions. All the ingredients are placed in a blender to make a fine paste. Form this mixture around skewers and either cook on charcoal or under a grill. The version served to us was delicately flavoured and perfectly cooked. We had these with delicious parathas that were finely layered and not greasy at all.

Then we had Sultani Daal, a dish prepared with urud daal that was again outstanding. But this is the first time I have shelled out Rs900 for a daal in Pakistan. Having said this, let me add that it was worth every paisa.

My major reservation is about the furniture. We were seated in low armchairs placed before an equally low table. This forced us to the edge of our seats, leaning forward: not the most comfortable position to eat in. The other issue I have is with the crude beaten brass glasses and surahi, or water vessel. I suppose the intention was to imitate the utensils used in Lucknow, but these were shoddy copies. Actually, none of these clichés were needed as the food spoke for itself.