Champaran mutton may have become the country’s newest culinary obsession, but in truth there is no such dish in Bihar. “You see, we in Bihar have always been so caught up in politics and bureaucracy that we never paid enough attention to our cuisine, which is actually so diverse and rich. So only a few years ago when regional Indian cuisine became the most talked about, we realised that we needed a dish to champion our cuisine as well, and thus Champaran Mutton became a thing which was suddenly being sold everywhere. What we have in the menu is a Clay Pot Motihari Mutton from the town of Motihari, which is in the Champaran district. A fuss-free homestyle robust mutton curry, the way it is actually made,” explained Chef Manish Mehrotra when I visited his new venture, Nisaba, in Delhi’s Sunder Nursery on its very first day.
The Motihari mutton has already become the talk of the town. Served in a clay pot, glossy with its own fat, and accompanied by warm hing kachoris that crack open at the slightest touch, it arrived at the table carrying the unmistakable scent of a home kitchen. My Bengali husband took one bite and paused. It reminded him of the Sunday mutton his father cooked during his childhood in Kolkata, that slow simmering ritual that perfumed the whole house by mid afternoon. “This is the second time I have tasted something so similar to what my father used to cook,” he said quietly, eyes glassy with memory. That is the thing about good food: it can disarm you. It can put you right back in the middle of a room you thought you had left behind.
Nisaba by chef Manish Mehrotra takes its name from the ancient goddess of grain and writing, presiding over nourishment and narrative in equal measure. Fitting, because the menu draws from everyday Indian dishes shaped over time in homes, neighbourhood kitchens and small towns, by people who cook with instinct rather than acclaim. It is food that holds the patina of repetition, of hands that know when something is ready without ever checking the clock. Food that carries stories not meant for the spotlight, yet worthy of it all the same.
It was the very first day of the very first service. The sun shone shyly and filtered through the tall glass windows, casting long streaks of light across the room and offering a generous view of Sunder Nursery outside. Beyond the panes, the old trees of Delhi stood like firm witnesses, having watched the city reshape itself over centuries.
Inside, in the gleaming new Nisaba, chef Manish Mehrotra moved from table to table, speaking with diners and listening intently. It felt almost old fashioned in the best possible way. No matter how much marketing muscle a new restaurant can summon, there is no substitute for a chef who seeks genuine feedback from the people who matter most: the regulars who return, who pay attention, who remember.
By early afternoon, the dining room had begun to fill with familiar faces. There was excitement in the air, a sense of homecoming. Many had turned up to welcome back the maestro who had given Delhi its moment in the sun with Indian Accent sixteen years ago and had pushed the city firmly onto the world’s culinary map. You could feel the affection in the room, not noisy but deeply felt, like a reunion with someone who had once changed the way the city ate and thought about its own food.
I lingered over the tiny samosas on Moradabadi dal and the white matar tikki with its khasta mathri. Playful, clever and quietly delicious. I have already noted down more to try on my next visit. Yes, visit. It has been a while since I have stepped out of a restaurant already planning my return.
Delhi’s gift is that it gathers India within itself, through its communities and their food. A chef like Manish Mehrotra simply brings that truth into sharper focus. As he told me, they bring dishes from across India, some known only in their own bylanes and towns and others more familiar. Much of his inspiration comes from the people who cook quietly and skillfully across India, from the street vendors to the dhabas and thelas.
It is a reminder that Indian cuisine was built by many hands before it ever reached the spotlight.