Remember that scene in Kaithi where Karthi finally gets his hands on biryani before a night of chaos? Yeah, that’s pretty much every Chennaiite when the cravings hit — especially during Ramzan.
For some, their usual biryani joint isn’t enough. “The most dramatic thing I’ve done for a plate of biryani? I started Daawat-e-Iftaar - a food festival that brings together all the best biryanis in one place. Because I wasn’t happy with just eating from one spot. I wanted them all,” laughs digital creator, Shamshad Begum, popularly known as @begumschoice on Instagram.
But what’s her ultimate biryani hill to die on? “Of course, it will always be mutton basmati rice Chennai-style biryani, with the mutton-to-fat ratio perfectly aligned with the rice so it’s juicy — and also made at home,” she notes.
While Shamshad took her love for biryani to a whole new level, for the rest of Chennai, the biryani obsession is usually split between two legendary rivals — Buhari and Bilal. There are two kinds of people in this city: those who’ll fight to the death for Buhari biryani and those who swear Bilal is the real deal. And then there are the ones who don’t care as long as there’s a plate of steaming, fragrant biryani in front of them, preferably with a perfectly cooked piece of meat and a side of raita they may or may not touch. But let’s be real — whether you’re team Buhari, team Bilal, or just team ‘Please let me eat in peace,’ one thing is certain: good biryani in this city is non-negotiable.
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Step into Buhari on a weekend night, and you’ll find a crowd that looks like they’re waiting for concert tickets — only the headliner is a plate of chicken 65 followed by a mound of biryani. At Bilal, the scene is just as intense, with people willing to stand, wait, and maybe even start a minor argument if someone tries to cut in line. “I have skipped weddings but never skipped Sunday biryani at Buhari,” Anagha, a self-proclaimed biryani purist, says between bites. “Priorities.”
Both Buhari and Bilal sit on Mount Road like two rival kingdoms? But if there’s one time of year when biryani obsession reaches its peak, it’s Ramzan. Because beyond Chennai’s year-round love for biryani, Ramzan is a time when every craving feels justified — when the only thing stronger than the fast itself is the knowledge that the day will end with a plate of biryani, steaming and perfect.
Every evening, as the city slows down for Iftar, biryani spots light up with families, friends, and fasting devotees ready to break their fast with the ultimate comfort meal. “After an entire day of fasting, that first bite of biryani? Nothing else comes close,” says Amir, who has a tradition of getting Buhari mutton biryani every year on the last Friday of Ramzan. “It’s the one meal you actually dream about while fasting.”
At Bilal, the post-Iftar crowd is just as intense, with massive takeaway orders going out as people stock up for suhoor, the pre-dawn meal. “Honestly, it’s not even about hunger,” laughs Tehseen T, balancing two giant bags of biryani for her family. “It’s about the vibe. Something about Ramzan biryani just tastes better.”
Saravanan, the dining manager at Bilal, confirms that Ramzan is their busiest time of year. “During Ramzan, we keep the restaurant open until 5 am, and even then, it’s completely full,” he says. “Outside, we have tea, bun, and of course, inside,biryani. The crowd is always packed during serving hours. We start at 11 am. And we only sell normal dum biryani — but that’s all people need.”
If you think this is an exaggeration, he has a challenge for you. “If you come on a Saturday night, you can see for yourself how the crowd is,” he says, amused.
Favourite spots
Of course, Chennai’s biryani culture isn’t just about these two icons. If you’re from the city, you probably have your place — the one spot you claim is the best biryani, the one you get personally offended over when someone dares to say otherwise.
Some people are loyal to Seashore Chicken Biryani, where you get a plate so generously loaded with chicken, it almost makes up for the trauma of digging into a leg piece only to find it mostly bone. “Boneless biryani just hits different, man,” says Kamal P, a regular. “No stress, no bones, just straight-up happiness.”
Then there’s the Copper Chimney Dum Biryani crowd — the ones who appreciate the slow-cooked depth of flavour, the fragrant layering of rice, and, most importantly, the guilty pleasure of eating that raw maida seal off the top. “I know it’s just dough, but it’s addictive,” confesses Amisha Linga, an otherwise very respectable human being who fully acknowledges this is her villain origin story.
And, of course, there’s the Dindigul Thalappakatti Biryani loyalists — those who believe nothing beats the distinct seeraga samba rice, small chunks of mutton, and the sharp hit of black pepper. “My grandfather ate here, my father ate here, and if I ever have kids, they’ll eat here too,” says Sandy S.
But here’s the truth — whether you’re a Buhari loyalist, a Bilal devotee, or someone who swears by that one low-key mess no one else knows about, nothing beats getting invited for Eid biryani.
The golden ticket. The VIP experience. The one event where you say yes before even checking your schedule. “Listen, I don’t care how busy I am, if my Muslim friends are calling me for Eid biryani, I’m there,” says Vrishan K, a man who admits that he has waited an entire month for this moment. “It’s different and it’s so personal.”
Madhu Sahu, who proudly claims she has “strategically befriended” enough people to get invited to multiple Eid feasts, puts it simply: “Some people wait for New Year’s Eve. I wait for Eid lunch.”
But at the end of the day, Ramzan biryani hits different.
It’s the one month where even the most casual biryani lover turns into a full-fledged devotee, where that evening plate of biryani feels more like a reward than just a meal. And in a city that already treats biryani like a religion, Ramzan is the festival that takes it to another level.
Because no matter which side you’re on — Buhari or Bilal, boneless or bone-in — we’re all united by the same thing: the willingness to fight for what we love. Whether it’s standing in line for an hour, planning our weekend around it, or shamelessly waiting for that Eid invite, biryani isn’t just food. It’s identity. It’s nostalgia. It’s a full-blown personality trait.
And in Chennai, it’s a way of life.