Super Powers: From Viceroy’s lavish feasts to BRICS vegetarian menus, how India’s diplomatic dining changed

Nothing at the recent BRICS summit in New Delhi seems to have drawn as much attention as the all-vegetarian menu. Writers bemoaned the lack of meat options and wished their own favourite foods had been served — instead of the khandvi, mushroom kebab appetisers, paneer lababdar, millet pulao and jalebi that were on the menu.

International media also weighed in. An American newspaper noted the absence of alcohol. Even a Pakistani paper pontificated on how the menu “projects an India more closely resembling the ideological preferences of its current rulers than the social reality of the country they govern”.

But none of this is surprising; the Indian government has never hidden its views on the subject. The diktat is clear: Strict vegetarian, not even eggs allowed. Nor is this a breach of diplomatic dining standards, because these standards have always been dubious.

The Need for a Dinner

Diplomatic dining is a performance; it is meant to show that enough amity exists between the participants that they will eat together. Logically, however, it makes little sense. Any real progress in such a summit will be made during private meetings, not at the dinner table.

Moreover, interactions might be stilted at a long table, where hardly anyone can talk, except with the people that protocol has put on either side.

The state dinner has its roots in European royal history. When rulers had absolute power, the dining table was the ability to display this.

The hierarchy of people allowed close to the king, at the very personal moment of eating food, signalled trust and status.

Roy Strong in Feast, his detailed study of European formal dining, notes that performative dining emerged on the continent when regional powers, such as Burgundy, strived to gain status against a larger power like France: “Food and taste had no relevance in this show of super abundance and luxury… the duty of the guest was to be actor-spectator in a particular kind of ritual, one governed by specific rules and a single purpose: To glorify the host.

The India Story

The British firmly believed in performative dining as part of the rituals of ruling India. Regular families would change into formal clothes for dinner, which would be a series of courses of Western food (Indian curries were acceptable at lunch).

This got increasingly formal as one ascended up the strict hierarchy that governed the Raj, culminating in the great display of the Viceroy’s dinner.

The Viceroy’s House (Rashtrapati Bhavan today) provided a grand stage for such events. In Around India’s First Table, Lizzie Collingham and Salma Husain detail the elaborate rituals: Guests parading down a grand staircase, in strict order of precedence, with a band playing. After they took their places, the Viceroy and his wife entered, with everyone bowing or curtsying as they passed, and then the meal began. The actual food was irrelevant: “All focus was on the pageantry.”

As nationalist participation in government rose, the need to include Indian politicians at these banquets increased, but many had dietary restrictions that conflicted with meat. Peter Coats, an aide to Viceroy Lord Wavell, introduced buffets, with separate vegetarian and non vegetarian sections. Another solution was to invite people for tea, which was a more neutral meal.

Feast and Famine

After independence, when C Rajagopalachari took over as the first (and last) Indian Governor General, he didn’t want to move into the Palace at all! But Mountbatten and Nehru persuaded him, aware that it was important to have a venue where state guests, especially foreign ones, could be suitably entertained.

Rajagopalachari agreed, but instead of moving into the Viceroy’s very grand private apartments, he converted four rooms, which had been occupied by Lady Mountbatten’s lady-in-waiting, into a relatively modest presidential suite. He also installed a private kitchen where his daughter (he was a widower) made simple meals.

The banquets continued, though with less pageantry — there was no band or requirement for bowing and curtsying. While there was a desire to Indianise, one counter argument was to not change things too much while entertaining foreign guests in a new nation. French had long been the language of diplomacy, and so, French dining was followed for banquets. It was also what Rashtrapati Bhavan’s staff were trained in, so it was felt best to leave it this way. The bigger consideration was hunger. Eastern India was still reeling from the famine, while other parts of the country had been forced to export food to support the Allied war effort. The separations of Pakistan and Burma removed the main food growing parts of India — wheat in Punjab and rice in Burma. Pakistan had a food surplus, but was not inclined to supply it to India.

With much difficulty, grain was sourced from places like Iran, but in a world still recovering from war, food in general was hard to procure, especially for a cash poor country like India. The government had to resort to desperate measures — imploring people to skip a meal or plant crops at home. Even open spaces, like Rajpath in Delhi, were examined for their potential for growing food. In this context, it was hard to have banquets.

Thali Solution

Rajendra Prasad, the first President of India, tried introducing food on a thali. This was both traditional to India and could be done in style, with a gleaming plate and many small bowls, all carried directly to guests.

But the problem was it required a lot more food. “Every thali was supplied with a generous helping of each dish, whereas butler service ensured that guests only served themselves with the dishes they liked,” write Collingham and Husain.

Excess food from banquets soon found their way to dhabas in Delhi’s Gole Market with the blackboard slogan: “Rashtrapati Bhavan ka khana”!

Thalis continued for small, Indian-only dinners, but were dropped for diplomatic banquets.

Safety First

The most important factor at diplomatic dinners, by far, is safety. Eating is a moment of vulnerability, especially in an unfamiliar place. Russian President Vladimir Putin is said to live in constant fear of poisoning, not least because his grandfather was a chef for Joseph Stalin and would have known the systems used to guard against it.

In 1992, George HW Bush fell sick during a banquet in Tokyo. In front of all the cameras, the US president suddenly vomited on the Japanese prime

minister Kiichi Miyazawa and then fainted. It was later determined that Bush was already sick and the food was not to blame. But the visuals are a potent reminder of the importance of food safety.

It’s also these safety concerns that dictate what’s served. The big reason that the French style of cooking has remained dominant at diplomatic dinners is that its safety parameters are well known. What’s usually on offer is a boneless piece of meat or fish that’s baked or poached, and served with a sauce that adds the taste and differentiation.

“It’s always poached salmon,” a young Prince Edward complains in the TV series The Crown, and the reason, quite simply, is that his mother, the Queen, couldn’t risk falling sick. Even salads aren’t encouraged, with most vegetables served with the meal being cooked to kill lurking bugs.

Moreover, nothing should be too difficult or unfamiliar for foreign guests — so no chance of encountering some moringa (drumsticks) at a state banquet, no matter how delectable it is!

Liquid Diets

Many guests will hardly eat anything, while some may choose to stick to drinks at the banquet. In What’s Cooking in the Kremlin, Witold Szablowski quotes a chef on how Cold War-era banquets under Leonid Brezhnev were notoriously long and lavish to preserve the illusion of Russian prosperity. Brezhnev himself would drink, but eat little (probably adding to his reputation for being mostly drunk in his later years): “The reception would end, Brezhnev would be driven home, and the first thing he’d do would be to call the chef to ask for fried potatoes with soured milk.”

At Rashtrapati Bhavan, the solution to the alcohol issue has long been not to serve it at formal meals, but to ensure that the guests’ suites are stocked with it, so any drinking can happen in private. It would be interesting to find out if this system continues — and if it extends to meat.

Is the real diplomatic solution to millet pulao at the vegetarian banquet the quiet provision of biryani behind the scenes?

On the Menu

ZILL-E-DARVESH

This is Haider Ali’s personal recipe for the dish, which he invented when he was appointed as a halwai in the Rashtrapati Bhavan kitchen.

Ingredients:

100 gms powdered almonds, 200 gms grated reduced milk (khoya), 200 gms sugar, ¼ tsp nutmeg powder, ¼ tsp mace powder, 200 gms ghee, ½ gm saffron.

For the garnish: Two gold leaves, 20 gms almond slivers, 20 gms pistachio slivers.

Method: In a pan, roast the grated khoya with the almond powder, sugar, mace, nutmeg powder and the saffron. Once the mixture has blended together, add the ghee and fry on low heat for some time, stirring all the while.

When the ghee has been fully absorbed, remove and cool. The mixture should have the consistency of fudge.

Spread the mixture in a tray and let it cool. Cover it with gold leaves, garnish with almonds and pistachio slivers.

POMME CROQUETTES

A typically Anglo-Indian recipe, which the Rashtrapati Bhavan kitchens still make.

Ingredients: 400 gms potatoes, Salt, pepper and pinch of nutmeg, One egg yolk, A knob of butter, 1 tsp plain flour, 1 whole egg, A little milk, 150 gms breadcrumbs, Oil.

Method: Wash, peel and boil the potatoes. Mash them with salt, pepper, nutmeg, egg yolk and a knob of butter until they have a smooth and creamy consistency.

Mix plain flour, salt, pepper, a whole egg and a little milk until the mixture becomes slightly sticky to make a batter.

Divide the potato mixture into golf-ball sized balls and roll into cylinders. Dip in the batter and roll it in bread crumbs.

Heat oil in a kadhai and deep fry the croquettes individually until golden brown.

GALOUTI KEBABS

These melt-in-the-mouth kebabs are a specialty of the Rashtrapati Bhavan kitchens.

Ingredients: 500 gms minced mutton, 100 gms raw papaya paste, 1 tsp ginger paste, 2 tsp garlic paste, 1 stick of cinnamon, 2 green cardamom pods, 4 cloves, 6 peppercorns, ¼ tsp nutmeg powder, ¼ tsp mace powder, 50 gms brown onion paste, 2 green chillies, Chopped coriander, 3 tsp roasted gram flour, 1 egg white, salt to taste, 1 tbsp lemon juice and a lemon wedge.

Method: Gently cook the minced mutton. Add raw papaya paste, ginger paste, garlic paste and salt. Leave aside for one hour.

Freshly grind cinnamon, cardamom pods, cloves and peppercorns.

Add nutmeg and mace powder to the spice masala. Add this to the marinated mince mixture with brown onion paste, green chillies and coriander leaves, gram flour and egg white.

Mix well to make a smooth paste. Divide into 19 equal parts and shape into patties. Shallow fry on a hot griddle.

Squeeze over lemon juice and serve with lemon wedges and onion rings.