The Delhi Food Trail

A slow-cooked meat stew, traditionally simmered overnight and eaten at breakfast, with a bone-marrow richness and a thick, spiced gravy mopped up with khameeri roti.

The name comes from the Arabic for daybreak, and it is meant literally: this is a dish for people who have been awake since before the fajr prayer. Both shops sit within a hundred metres of each other and Delhi has argued about which is better for decades. Order it with khameeri roti, not naan.

Where the sources disagree — Al Jawahar is widely given as a 1947 foundation. We could not verify that date against a primary source, so we do not print it as one.

Burra is mutton chops marinated and cooked over charcoal; seekh is spiced minced meat pressed onto a skewer and grilled.

Karim's founder claimed descent from cooks of the Mughal court, and the shop opened with a menu of exactly two things: aloo gosht and dal, with rumali roti. The empire it now runs on came from that. Go for the burra rather than the biryani, which is not what the place is for.

Wheat flatbreads stuffed — potato, cauliflower, paneer, and more improbable fillings including cashew and banana — then fried whole in ghee, served with pumpkin sabzi and two chutneys.

The shop was founded in 1872 by a migrant from Agra, and the lane took its name from the trade. Fried whole in ghee is the point: these are not the dry tawa paranthas of a home kitchen. They arrive with pumpkin sabzi, a mint chutney and a banana-tamarind chutney, and the chutneys are half the reason to come. Two people cannot finish three.

Lentil dumplings soaked soft, drowned in whisked curd and sweet tamarind chutney, scattered with pomegranate seeds.

Two items on the menu and a queue on the pavement. The pomegranate is not garnish — the sourness cuts the curd, and a plate without it tastes flat. Eat it standing up, which is the only option.

Sweetened milk froth, whisked before dawn and left to set in the night cold, served in a bowl under saffron, khoya and pistachio — it collapses within hours of being made.

This is the single most seasonal thing in Indian street food, and the reason is physics: the froth needs cold night air to set and it will not hold once the sun is up. Nobody makes it in summer. Ask for it at the top of Kinari Bazaar in winter and someone will point at a man with a tray; ask in April and you will be sold something else.

Tandoori chicken finished in a gravy of tomato, cream and butter — the dish that has done more for Indian restaurants abroad than any other.

The standard story is that it was invented at Moti Mahal after Partition, to use tandoori chicken that had dried out. It is a good story and it may be true.

Where the sources disagree — In 2024 Moti Mahal, run by the Gujral family, sued the rival chain Daryaganj, run by the Jaggi family, in the Delhi High Court over which of them invented butter chicken and dal makhani at the 1947 restaurant. Moti Mahal also claims an earlier Peshawar origin in the 1930s. The case is the honest answer to who invented it: two families, one kitchen, and a court.

Spiced chickpeas with a deep-fried leavened bread the size of a face — the Punjabi breakfast that Partition brought to Delhi.

Sita Ram Kohli arrived from Lahore in 1947, aged fifteen, and sold from a cart. The shop still sells one thing. If you eat one plate of chole bhature in Delhi, the argument for making it this one is that nothing else here competes for the kitchen's attention.

Where the sources disagree — The founding year is given as 1950 on the business's own website, and as 1947 or 1955 by various press accounts. We print the shop's own figure and flag the others.

A whole mango, orange, apple or pomegranate hollowed out, filled with kulfi made of the same fruit, and re-frozen — sliced open in front of you.

Around seventy varieties are listed. The stuffed fruit is the thing to order — a whole mango, frozen solid, cut into wheels — and it is one of the few Indian sweets that is not primarily sugar.

Where the sources disagree — The family gives 1906; one published account says 1908.

Fermented batter piped in coils into hot ghee, then soaked in syrup — here made thick rather than thin, and fried in ghee rather than oil.

Delhi Tourism lists this shop on its own food-tour page, which is rare institutional agreement about a street sweet. The jalebis are fat and heavy rather than the crisp spirals sold elsewhere, and the syrup is khandsari — unrefined. A hundred grams is a portion for two.

The gurudwara's free community kitchen — dal, roti, kheer — cooked and served by volunteers to anyone who sits down, without charge or condition.

A feature in Saveur put it at around ten thousand meals a day. It is not a tourist experience and should not be treated as one: cover your head, remove your shoes, wash your hands, sit in the row, eat what you are given, and if you have time, help wash up — which is the actual invitation. Donations are accepted and not solicited.