History of Tandoor food takes us back to the Indus valley and Harappan civilizations. Traces of tandoor cooking has also been found in ancient Egyptian and Mesopotamian civilizations. And then you had the Mughals who were fond of cooking in tandoor. The word tandoor itself comes from the Akkadian word tinuru (tin - mud, uru - fire). But my introduction to tandoor happened sometime in the early 1990s courtesy my Nanaji (maternal grandfather). 

Chhat par aiye, kuch naya banvaye hain

During one of our visits to Patna, in great excitement he told us, “Chhat par aiye, kuch naya banvaye hain (Come to the terrace, there’s something newly made)”. By then I had been used to seeing something or the other constructed newly on every trip in his two storey house which he had fondly named Ashiana. But even then, tandoor wasn’t something that I was expecting. 

Mind you, those were not the days of grill on your table. Although, I do remember having Tandoori chicken or Naan at restaurants. My mother would sometimes cook Litti or Kebabs on charcoal or dried cow dung cakes. But I had not seen an actual Tandoor. 

Gunni, Tandoor jalwane ka intezaam karvao

So, what Nanaji showed was a source of extreme amusement for me. He asked, “Kya khaoge baua? (What will you have son?)” Normally, this question would have resulted in a series of demands from me. But this time around, the only thing that I could manage was a smile in response. Of course, I didn't know what all could be cooked in it. Then Nanaji asked one of my Mamas (maternal uncle), “Gunni, Tandoor jalwane ka intezaam karvao (Gunni, make arrangements for the tandoor).”

I jumped in excitement hearing that things like Tandoori Chicken or Naan could actually be made at home. Nanaji went to his clinic and as the day progressed, other elders were involved in the arrangements and a chef was also called from outside to cook in the Tandoor. My cousins and me spent the entire day running around the house and seeing what was happening around the Tandoor.

Honestly, I couldn’t wait to see the tandoor lit up and cooking being done in it. So, when the evening finally came, I was quick to take a position at the centre of action. Nanaji arrived along with my parents and other relatives. He took a stock of the preparations and nodded in acknowledgement. While the Tandoor was being lit up, Nanaji had few rounds of drinks with my dad and uncles. 

Seeing me very close to the Tandoor my mother asked me to be a bit away for safety reasons. I might have taken a couple of steps back and then again moved forward as soon as my mother got busy in chitchat. And then for the next few hours, I was engrossed seeing marinated pieces of chicken and paneer enter the hot tandoor in a skewer. Slowly, the atmosphere was filled with the tandoori aroma and my enthusiasm. In between I would run and give updates to Nanaji on the status of cooking. 

The process is more important than the product

Of course, I did enjoy the chicken, paneer and Naan (all of which tasted delicious), but the entire process was more enjoyable than the actual food. The precision with which the chef was undergoing his tasks seemed an art to me. That evening, I was a firm believer in the saying, “The process is more important than the product.”

Thereafter, an evening at Nanaji’s Tandoor would become a norm during our winter visits. On few occasions, I remember him telling my father, “Ek aur din rukiye, aaj Tandoor jalwaate hain (Stay for a day more, will have food cooked in the tandoor today).”  

As the years passed, the awe that I had for Tandoor didn’t fade away. Today, I cook in a portable small barbecue at home quite often, sometimes to the dismay of my mother and wife. Both try to convince me to grill in an electric OTG. 

Sometimes I agree and on other occasions fight it out with them, but I guess nothing has been able to take away my liking for barbecue. In hindsight, I think the seeds of that love was sown on that winter evening at Nanaji’s house. 

Today on his birth anniversary, I am sure that he must be enjoying his Tandoori chicken with few pegs of scotch up there in the heavens and probably smiling at my fascination for Tandoor. 

Cheers Nanaji! For the love of Tandoor!