One fabled corner of the world—known so poetically to Anglos as the Vale of Kashmir—has sat for decades at the top of our bucket list, yet we see little prospect of ever crossing it off. At the clumsy partitioning of the British Raj into India and Pakistan, this literal paradise-on-earth became the focus of one of the longest and nastiest conflicts, declared and undeclared, in modern history.
In any other location and circumstance, Kashmir would be fighting off tourist hordes from all over the planet, with its sensational snow-capped mountains, alpine meadows, enviable climate, and the gorgeous waters of the Jhelum River. All manner of flora and fauna prosper here, from rhododendron, tulips, and fir trees, to 240 species of birds and the legendary snow leopard.
We just watched a Vidhu Vinod Chopra movie, entitled Shikara, that captures both the beauty of the Vale and its people—and the loss of home arising from the forced Pandit Exodus of 1990. Yet, it's a measure of how fraught the situation remains today, that virtually every critic panned the movie for not being political enough. We have familial experience of exodus and genocide in Europe, and can attest that, from the inside, the politics are the least of it.
Even if we wanted to travel to Kashmir, the Indian Government prohibits foreigners from entering the Union Territory of Kashmir and Jammu. So, trivial as it might strike a more political mind, we can only get there through reading, movies, and food.
Kashmiri cuisine emerged from deep in the mists of history with the Mughal Empire and its Persian roots, followed by Afghan, Sikh, and Punjabi influences, both Hindu and Muslim. Rice is the staple, but the Kashmiris are dedicated meat-eaters, prizing goat, kid, mutton, and lamb. The Kashmiri red chili is as famous as the Cashmere wool that originated here, along with all of the usual suspects in the Indian spice rack—not to mention a major export of the region, the aromatic red stigma of the Saffron crocus.
The Kashmiri dish that first springs to mind is Rogan Josh, a stew of Lamb or Mutton. The Muslim version uses onions and garlic—the Hindu version, for reasons of religion, substitutes the odd and very pungent, powdered gum asafoetida. Either way, you marinate the meat overnight with ginger and powdered Kashmiri chilis. In the morning, you temper the asafoetida with some combination of cloves, bay leaves, cardamom, and cinnamon to suit your taste, then add the meat and brown over relatively high heat. Add just enough liquid to prevent burning, and cook until tender. Punjabis sometimes stir in a little yogurt, and Anglos love their tomatoes, but neither makes the official muster.
In the movie Shikara, the lovely wife Shanti recreates their lost home for her husband Shiv by serving her version of Rogan Josh. Eventually, the cooking becomes almost too painful for her to bear. We, the audience, are allowed to empathize with her tragedy, and no wonder. Nothing honors and eulogizes the places we'll never see again quite like the aromas, tastes, and textures of superbly prepared food from home.
Find a good general list of Kashmiri dishes here.
Find a (westernized) recipe for Lamb Rogan Josh here.
Watch the YouTube trailer for the movie Shikara here.