A colleague of my father migrated to Australia in the early seventies. His son who was in school with me wrote that he got to eat chicken there every day, causing a paroxysm of envy among us. The commercial poultry revolution had not happened in India. Chicken was still a meat of the affluent. Doctors would recommend chicken soup or stew for patients recovering from serious illnesses. There was even something called 'essence of chicken' sold in glass ampules for convalescents and geriatrics. Serving chicken at a wedding or banquet was a status symbol. Then came the broiler invasion ushering in what may be called the democratic era of CBM (Chicken Butter Masala).
As I have written in these columns, domestic breeding of chicken (or for that matter any animal for slaughter) was not common among Hindus, especially in North India. In tribal areas villagers often kept chicken. Chicken, though not a staple, was much more popular among Muslims. Hence, many Muslim farmers often practised poultry both for meat and eggs. In fact, “Musalman-er Murgi Posha” was an idiom in Bengal, when people were less touchy about political correctness. It roughly meant nurturing something for profit. It is not surprising therefore that some of the best chicken preparations come from Mughlai cuisine. I would go as far as to say that Hindu and Sikh Punjabis learnt to make Tandoori chicken from their Muslim brethren. So I still travel miles braving traffic and crowds to have the real Chicken Burra at the original Karim’s in Delhi’s Jumma Masjid. And, talking of curries, give me their Chicken Korma any day.
The world over people are reverting from farm to free-range, grain fed chicken from genetically engineered poultry bred with hormones and antibiotics. The concern is not just chemicals but it is also about good taste. In India, however, the trend is yet to catch on and it is difficult to find the pure local breed of chicken except in interiors of the North East or other deep rural areas. What is sold as 'country or desi' chicken is generally hybrid. However, the good story is people are once again beginning to ask for the home grown birds.
Ultimately it is a question of economics. If there is demand one can expect availability of native free-range chicken will increase.
Tamil Nadu is one state where country chicken, or 'Natu Kozhi' as it is called, is widely available. Though they are not exactly the free range variety, the breed is indigenous. That makes all the difference in the muscle texture and, consequently, its taste. My favourite is the dry pepper fry - that is made with whole black pepper pods and curry leaves all fried in a skillet. The absence of gravy and other masalas retain the succulent juices in the meat. The other state where one gets home grown chicken is Maharashtra but not as extensively as in the south. There they call it 'Gauti'. One finds it in the menu of some Malwani restaurants but not all across. After all, Maharashtra is the poultry capital of the country so it is difficult for the homely 'Gauti', which is more expensive, to compete with the mass produced varieties.
My biggest discovery of recent times was the Saoji Gavrani chicken in Nagpur. In fact, Saoji food itself is a hidden treasure and one of the most well-kept secrets of Indian cuisine. I have read different versions about the origin of the Saoji community. According to one school they were a weaver community that moved from Madhya Pradesh to work in the cotton mills in Nagpur. Apparently the Saoji women developed the Saoji Masala with a blend of 32 spices mixed with jute or linseed oil to make a paste. Another version says the Saojis were a small warrior race in the Maratha army who developed a high-energy, protein-rich diet to keep them strong and healthy during long battles. As per this theory, they hail from the intersection of Maharashtra, Andhra and Karnataka, which came under the Maratha empire. Whatever be its origin, Saoji food is characterised by its fiery spices which is far more complex than its Kolhapuri cousin, which although hot is more subtle, with a thin red curry (Tamda) that is off-set by the white (Pandhra) Rassa. But as Ramakrishna says, if your purpose is to eat mangoes, why bother about the number of trees in the orchard. So, for me what matters is how many Saoji restaurants there are in Nagpur.
Saoji food is slowly spreading to places outside Vidarbha to places like Pune and Hyderabad. I have had an alleged Saoji chicken at the Maharashtra Sadan restaurant in Delhi. While it is easy to source Saoji masala from stores in Nagpur, getting the Gavrani chicken is not easy. So even after adjusting the spice quotient it is difficult to recreate the same effect. So, I stick to the small Saoji restaurants in Nagpur. There are many and their tribe is increasing. Each Saoji place has its own distinct style of preparation and a special twist that comes from the proprietary recipe and mix of spices. Among my common haunts are Sujal Saoji and Shankar Saoji. While Shankar has a larger menu including seafood like crabs, Sujal allows a tipple in the backyard at night. Rum is always good for washing down spices particularly in winters. And Nagpur does get cold in the evenings. Locals believe the Gavrani chicken, apart from setting the taste buds on fire, warms the body and soul too.
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(Sandip Ghose is an author and current affairs commentator. He tweets @SandipGhose.)