The great chef’s life in Delhi. [Text and pictures by Mayank Austen Soofi] A dish as beloved as only comfort food can be, kadhi’s primary ingredient is dahi (yoghurt) and besan (chickpea flour). But that’s not true for Dharmender and Vinod. In their mid-30s, the two labourers are making kadhi without dahi. “Each of us earns 400 rupees everyday,” explains Dharmender. “Half of that is spent on the daily expenses… so we are skipping dahi.” Both, however, concede the central role of dahi. That’s how kadhi is made in their family homes in Raebareli, UP. “Kadhi tastes good when dahi is khatti (soury)... we use lemon instead.” This evening, the two men are preparing kadhi in their home. Having no fixed address, their living

The great chef’s life in Delhi. [Text and pictures by Mayank Austen Soofi] This lawyer-cum-writer has challenged tradition. A resident of Delhi’s Bengali Market, Siddharth Kapila has appended a “modern healthy-ish take” to dal makhanni, the dish whose joy lies in its rich makhan, or butter. Tweaking the soul of a beloved dish is a risky undertaking. Good for him he did it in faraway England, where he is currently stranded. The 30-something Mr Kapila had gone to visit friends there in March, and couldn’t return as planned due to the second surge of coronavirus in Delhi. Speaking on a WhatsApp video call from Leeds town, he confesses “I like combining elements of different cuisines, without taking away what the original is

The great chef’s life in Delhi. [Text and pictures by Mayank Austen Soofi] She has married thrice—to the same man. Susanna Di Cosimo, 42, came to visit our motherland from her Italy in 2011, and two years later settled in Lajpat Nagar. In 2016 she got hitched to her Indian sweetheart (at a court, Hindu, and Christian wedding), and now enjoys a happy existence in a 13th floor apartment in Gurugram’s Sector 49, with husband, Gaurav, mother-in-law, Indira, daughter, Anaaya, and housekeeper, Masudha. With a cheeriness that’s infectious over this Whatsapp video chat, Ms Di Cosimo says she started baking Italian breads during the coronavirus-triggered lockdown last year when she found herself idle as a tour operator. “I would exchange my breads for

The great chef’s life in Delhi. [Text and pictures by Mayank Austen Soofi] One way to salvage this cursed year (boo boo 2020!) from becoming a complete annus horribilis is to make Jolly Sabherwal’s super-yummy Christmas cake for Christmas Eve today. “I have already made it four-five times since last week for friends,” she says, beaming, on the WhatsApp video from her first-floor flat in south Delhi’s Vasant Kunj. At 70, the Kerala native is a familiar figure in the city for having been a longtime manager of a much-loved bookstore. She would be always sighted in one of her gorgeous saris (she has 100 saris!). This year, too, Ms Sabherwal is determined to dress in one of her “christmassy saris” for the midnight

The great chef’s life in Delhi. [Text and pictures by Mayank Austen Soofi] Her Instagram handle (@spicestori), that she launched in the beginning of the coronavirus-triggered lockdown, is nothing but emotional atyachar (torture). It is filled with pictures of yummy dishes that seem particularly unattainable in these times of the pandemic, when eating out is a dream. If only it were possible to feed our poor stomach on Nafisa Adiraju’s Insta feed! It is a dizzying exhibit of regional delicacies from across the country—Kothimbir Vadi, Koki, Amritsari Chhole, Kutchi Biryani, Vada Sambhar... Bharta with Ghee Roti. “I’m completely cosmo,” declares Ms Adiraju, 36. The lady’s a practicing Muslim married to a practicing Hindu. She’s from Gujarat, he’s from Andhra Pradesh. They both live

The great chef’s life in Delhi. [Text and pictures by Mayank Austen Soofi] She’s a garlic-loving Italian woman, living in Delhi, and she makes Indian dishes better than many Indians. Her dal makhani is as buttery as in any respectable Punjabi household. And her (dry) aloo palak is so tasty that you might as well pester her to start her home catering service. A designer in her 50s, she is however painfully modest and has urged her identity to remain secret for this dispatch. “Kyunki mein Bharat mein bahut salon se hoon,” she says in fluent Hindi, explaining that her familiarity with desi cuisine comes from the fact that she has been living in the country for long. “I first came to India as

The great chef’s life in Delhi. [Text and pictures by Mayank Austen Soofi] Buckling up the seat belt, she normally drives out into the world far from home… she’s en route to the office. But not anymore. Payal Singh didn’t think much about the routines in her working life—until the coronavirus lockdown forced her to stay confined in the family flat with husband and daughter. Actually she lives in two flats. Ms Singh’s elderly parents reside in a similar apartment two floors down in the housing complex in Ghaziabad in the Greater Delhi Region. “Sometimes I make lunch for us all and sometimes Mummy cooks dinner for all... so it’s now going on as smoothly as possible.” She’s talking on WhatsApp from

The great chef’s life in Delhi. [Text and pictures by Mayank Austen Soofi] Forced into self-isolation, she closes her eyes and sees herself turning into “a tiny speck of dust.” And now, she, this dust particle, floats into the air, flies across the spaces and oceans, to her friend Charu’s home. Charu has been forced into self-isolation too. Coronavirus is everywhere. This dust particle is Farah Naaz, as she imagined herself. She is an advocate and lives in Gurgaon in the Greater Delhi Region. Charu is a friend of her youth, who lives in distant California. “We spent six years of our college life together, in AMU (Aligarh Muslim University),” recalls Ms Naaz, sitting in the drawing room of her ground floor flat in Sector