Biriyani maintains an enduring place as a global culinary staple. Mariam Aziz explores the Kenyan and Pakistani variations.

Google suggests that there are anywhere from 26 to 365 varieties of biriyani throughout the world. A layered rice and meat delicacy, biriyani is a quintessential dish in any South Asian household. It’s a labour of love, taking hours to prepare. Like many dishes from that region, the masala base of onions, tomatoes, ginger and garlic is relatively the same. But variations in the unique aromatic spice blend and range of garnishes used make up the key differences. 

It would take aeons to compare every type, but I grew up eating two approaches, Pakistani and Kenyan, which have subtle differences. 

My maternal grandmother, Furkhanda Ahmad, was born in Kenya to Indian parents during the Second World War, where her father worked as an architect. Since the beginning of the 20th century, there has been a large Indian and South Asian diaspora in East Africa, but it wasn’t until the late ‘50s, when her aunt moved from India to Kenya, that her family started making the dish. 

My paternal grandmother, Amatul Qayuum Ahmed, was born in Sialkot, Pakistan, however, she spent a significant amount of time in Kuwait where her husband worked as an engineer. Influences from these different regions, along with the ingredients that were available to them at the time, are reflected in my grandmothers’ varying biriyani approaches.

The base of both biriyanis start the same, by making a chicken curry. This differs from a traditional chicken curry with the addition of whole spices like black cardamom, cumin seeds, cloves and peppercorns – these give the dish a more fragrant flavour. They’re then sautéed with onions, ginger, garlic and tomatoes. 

In Pakistan, it’s common to marinate the chicken with yoghurt beforehand. In Kenya, it is customary to add a generous dollop into the curry itself – equally, tamarind pulp can also be added. The purpose of the yoghurt and tamarind is to make the curry develop a sour flavour. Biriyani is equal parts rice and curry, meaning the rice reduces the intensity of flavour, it’s essential that the curry is borderline overwhelming with flavour so as to not become bland when the rice is added. 

Once the rice is boiled with a sprinkle of cumin seeds, the different garnishes can be prepared. In Kenya, my grandmother was taught to fry slices of onions and small cubes of potatoes. “There are so many variations of biriyani,” she tells me in Punjabi, “When my aunt came over [to Kenya], she taught us the version she knew, and it’s the same one I’ve been making for over 60 years,” she says proudly. Biriyani is a melting pot of different flavours, aromas and textures, especially as the curry, rice and garnishes are layered. Adding plain, fried potatoes to the mix plays a similar role to rice in balancing out those strong flavours from the curry. 

Kenyan biriyani

However, in Pakistan, whilst fried onions are also sprinkled in between layers, sliced lemons, green cardamom and boiled eggs are preferred. My paternal aunt, Fouzia Umer, lives in Lahore. She describes the ways the dish differs not only between regions but also among families. “Biriyani is a delicacy – the addings depend on where you live and what you have access to. In Pakistan, it’s common for eggs to be added as decoration, however, my mother would always add some kewra water [Indian floral water] for fragrance.” She tells me that lemon slices and cardamom are sometimes sprinkled over the rice to make it more aromatic. 

Although these differing touches aren’t drastic, small adaptations and additions can completely transform the flavour of biriyani. Whether adding yoghurt or a tamarind block beforehand or opting to garnish with potatoes instead of eggs, these variations are what make biriyani a comfort dish – it can be developed to fit the needs of everyone.

Biriyani is a family meal, and within each layer, the diversity and rich history of the dish can be enjoyed. It’s been a staple on my family’s dinner table whether it’s someone’s birthday, wedding or as simple as my aunts coming round on a Friday night – it brings people together. “The morning of my wedding, I made biriyani. My dad helped and in the afternoon I got ready and went to the mosque to get married.” My grandmother, Furkhanda, tells me, “It’s always been a special dish. It’s the heart and soul of the family.”