At Sheraton Hyderabad’s Koushur Saal: A Kashmiri Cuisine Saga, chef Rahul Wali didn’t just serve a meal — he opened a voyage into a culinary culture that is often overshadowed, misunderstood, or simply unheard of in mainstream Indian dining. Born in Kashmir and raised across cities, chef Rahul says he was ‘born in a restaurant’, joking that he was crawling around his family’s establishment even as a nine or ten-month-old baby. Hospitality wasn’t a career choice for him — it was almost genetic. “My immediate family was always in the hospitality business. By default it set inside me,” he says.
And that sense of rootedness reflects deeply in his Kashmiri Pandit pop-up, which he describes as a way to counter ‘the lack of knowledge of our own regional foods’ today. According to him, Mughlai influences and the overpowering presence of onion-garlic based cooking have ‘suppressed the actual Indian regional foods of India’. His mission, therefore, is to get people to unlearn. “You can’t say, ‘Oh, I know this is how it is supposed to be’. Indian food is very different. People are losing their own roots as far as food is concerned,” he shares.
The preview table began with Chaman Qaliya — paneer cooked without the ubiquitous onion-garlic base. The result was a dish where the paneer itself shone. As the chef explained, “When you are eating my paneer here, you are actually eating paneer. There is no additional flavour except the spices hitting your nose.” Paired with delicate saffron rice, it felt surprisingly light and comforting, subtle yet precise.
Next came Dum Olav, soft potatoes absorbing the warmth of spices and the gentleness of slow cooking — something chef Rahul says has nearly disappeared. “People have forgotten the concept of slow food. Eating now is about filling your stomach, not going for an experience,” he says.
There were also saffron naans and lavash, each baked with restraint — never overshadowing the star dishes, but accompanying them with quiet elegance.
Perhaps the most engaging part of the afternoon was watching chef Rahul prepare Rajma live, especially because Kashmiri Rajma is commonly assumed to be onion-heavy and spicy. What we tasted was entirely different — creamy, soft, flavourful without force.
The chef explains this with simplicity: “Rajma is a very quick affair if you have a boiled rajma. It is the quality of the rajma which makes the difference.” He uses grains from regions like Bhaderwah and Kishtwar, known for their small size and natural creaminess. “The glycaemic index is very different. The creaminess comes naturally,” he says. Again, it returns to the same principle — ingredients grown locally, cooked traditionally, without shortcuts and without unnecessary embellishments.
The Rajma tasted creamy and light, though diners who expect the typical onion-garlic-spice-heavy version might find this one milder and less fiery. But that’s exactly the chef’s intent — to let you taste Rajma itself, not what surrounds it.
He calls Kashmiri food ‘therapeutic’. Regional cuisines, he insists, are inherently therapeutic. “Every regional food of India is therapeutic because we use locally grown ingredients and traditional techniques. These are not lost recipes. They are lost people,” he says, referring to the knowledge that didn’t pass down because the next generation ‘took it for granted’.
As someone who doesn’t enjoy overly sweet desserts, the phirni felt like a revelation — just sweet enough, creamy yet light, and soothing after a spice-warmed meal.
Chef Rahul calls phirni a symbolic part of their culture. “We don’t have a sweet tooth. We make only two things — phirni and kheer. Phirni is very subtle,” he says. It is meant to calm the palate after a meal filled with dry ginger powder, turmeric and spices. “You need to settle those spices on your palate. Phirni helps you do that.” And it did, beautifully.