This home chef has turned heritage awadhi cuisine into a modern feminist mission
Her kitchen, her rules
A meal may be humble, but it must be complete. This was the lesson Sheeba Iqbal, 58, home chef and founder of awadhi home-dining restaurant, Naimat Khana, Lucknow, learnt from her mother at a young age. “I once served my father a quick lunch of rotis and seekh kebabs, and got an earful from my mother,” reminisces Iqbal. “‘A plate must have vegetables, carbs, a meat dish and dessert’, she scolded, and it’s a lesson I’ve never forgotten.”
Iqbal’s love for her heritage awadhi cuisine, was born out of responsibility—to share the load of a working mother—but became her raison d’etre after she got married.
“The family I married into were big foodies, so the spread on the dinner table was grand every day. They were true lovers of awadhi food—big meat eaters, and though there was always a vegetarian dish or two in the spread, it was often left untouched,” shares Iqbal. “It’s only after I started serving tasty vegetarian dishes, like tomato korma and arbi ka salan, that they finally started enjoying it.”
For a long time, Sheeba’s goal was simple: to feed her loved ones with simple yet flavourful dishes. However, after her husband passed away in 2017, her desire to be financially independent grew strong and thus was born Naimat Khana the following year—a space where she served patrons age-old family recipes, hosted in her ancestral haveli.
Women in women-dominated fields
Awadhi cuisine is native to Awadh in northern India, with influences from the Middle East and Central Asia. Iqbal is gearing up to bring it to Mumbai this weekend at a pop-up at Waarsa, Nariman Point. Like at her restaurant, the menu will feature delectable recipes originating from the homes of Lucknowi women like herself—think ghutwan kebab, dahi phulki, tali gobi ka salan and mutton yakhni pulao.
“Awadhi cooking is a female-dominated field,” says Iqbal. “The men have never helped in the kitchens—at best, they would compliment the women’s cooking. The cooks in my kitchen at Naimat Khana and the ones that travel with me for these pop-ups are all women.”
It wasn’t easy for Iqbal to convince home chefs like herself to sell their fare—the stigma and the lack of confidence ran deep. But over time and in partnership with Lucknow-based NGO, Sadbhavana Trust, which vocationally trains women from lesser privileged backgrounds, Iqbal convinced them to join her for pop-ups and festivals, often absorbing them into her kitchens as well. “We host an annual lunch at the Mahindra Sanatkada Lucknow Festival every February, and it is here that these women have regained their confidence,” says Iqbal. “Forty women, all home chefs, come together with one dish each for this lunch, which earns them love, appreciation and financial liberty.”
Even at her restaurant, her staff is all women. “We have men for accounts and to serve, since there have been some incidents of misbehaviour with women servers, but all other members of my kitchen and restaurant are women,” Iqbal says, with a hint of pride in her voice. “In fact, the dishes that are on our menu include their family recipes, which they cook in their own kitchens and bring to Naimat Khana for the patrons. Only my recipes and another cook’s are actually made at the Naimat Khana kitchen.”
And while there’s a fixed menu of home-cooked dishes during the week, Iqbal and her co-chefs also present weekend specials for seasonal fare or specific requests.
These are women from different backgrounds, cultures and religions who come together for the love of awadhi cuisine and to earn an honest living. But as the founder of a restaurant, why does Iqbal still refer to herself as a home chef? “Well, I’m not a certified chef from any institute, and remaining a home chef keeps my kitchen democratic, which I prefer. In this way, we’re all equals – I’m no more ‘senior’ than my co-chefs.”
Shattering misconceptions, one bite at a time
The common perception is that north Indian food, awadhi included, is too heavy and rich for every day fare. A perception Iqbal is determined to debunk. “Our food is fragrant and rich in flavours, not in masalas or oil. We focus heavily on layering the masalas, and how the dish feels when being eaten. Lucknowis have been eating these foods for generations—they’re not all unhealthy,” says Iqbal.
In fact, awadhi cuisine can often be light on the palate and the digestive system. Think galouti kebabs so velvety, you can barely lift them off the plate; so soft that they simply melt in your mouth. Was the galouti kebab really created for the nawab with no teeth, as the lore goes?
According to Iqbal, this is a myth—there was no such nawab. “The ancestors of our nawabs were from Persia, for whom etiquette was key,” she says. “They didn’t like people chewing loudly at the dinner table, so every item had to be melt-in-your-mouth soft.”
Another anecdote she shares is about how the humble Nihari was born in the labourers’ dastarkhwan (kitchen or dining space), when they would, at the end of a working day, pick up leftover meat from the butcher and let it stew all night. A nawab once had a taste of it and decided to bring it into the royal dastarkhwan, which explains its popularity today.
Meating point
While we’re grateful to the nawabs because of whom, today, we enjoy this luxe cuisine, times are a-changing. People are increasingly becoming more conscious of what they eat; many are often gluten or dairy intolerant, or are simply vegetarian but still want to sample the exquisite fare. So how does Iqbal cater to these changing palates and demands?
“We’re learning. This is a recent development for us too. Some vegetables hold their own on the menu, like kathal and mirchi, and for other dishes, we’re exploring ways to replace the meat with vegetarian options like paneer and potatoes—such as paneer korma or besan tikkis,” shares Iqbal. “ We also ask our guests for recommendations, and they’re mostly happy to oblige.”
When asked why she hasn’t expanded Naimat Khana to other cities, her answer is simple: “Because we can’t be there to monitor the quality of the food. These recipes have been passed down through generations, some of them orally. I can still hear my ancestors directing me while I cook. Replicating them would dilute the essence.” She enjoys travelling for pop-ups like the one at Waarsa, and meeting and feeding new people across the country, but for now Iqbal says she’s content with the way things are.
If your mouth, like ours, has also filled with saliva while reading about all this deliciousness, we suggest you head to Waarsa for some true-blue homemade awadhi delicacies (before August 24), and a taste of Iqbal’s innate warm hospitality.
