For the beef-eater, Delhi is a hardship posting. Once in a while, I scamper off to a five-star hotel to sample a bit of buffalo meat. But even that consolation is notto be in my Nizamuddin barsati. "Satye Singh is a great cook," my predecessor told me as he bequeathed his flat and household staff. "But never ask him to make steak. We used to once in a while," he confided. "Until the day he came up to me and said, sahib, cooking beef is like cooking my own mother!" Satye Singh has since been solemnly assured not only that he will never be required to prepare steak, but also that his kitchen will never be sullied by the meat of cow or buffalo.
Which all goes to explain why, when in Islamabad, I make a determined assault on the Kabul Restaurant in Jinnah Super. It's not that the cuisine is particularly delectable, more the opportunity to relish the delights of red meat without even a twinge of guilt. The first time I ate there was with my wife, Anuradha—who for religious, aesthetic and all sorts of other good reasons prefers to abstain from beef. So restricted is the menu, she spent the evening nibbling on Afghani naan. I now go there alone! For 60 Pakistani rupees, the Afghani kebab is sufficient to satisfy even the most craven of addicts. The only cloud in the culinary sky is the accompanying beverage. The most exciting the Kabul Restaurant can offer is Fanta or Teem—when what I really long for is a glass of Adnam's best bitter!
