At the back of his restaurant in Kabul, Waheed, one of the last cooks to master the “chainaki” recipe, distributes the pieces of meat and mutton fat among some 200 mismatched teapots in which they will simmer for several hours.
From dawn, the cook concentrates, leaning over his earthen oven on which the chipped teapots are lined up. He checks that each of them has received the right proportion of meat and fat, which can vary according to taste.
“I did not add any vegetable oil. There is only meat and lamb fat”, specifies, the shining eyes, Waheed, 45 years old, who thanks to the multitude of containers can individualize recipe.
Reassured, the restaurateur can throw the salt in the teapots and add lentils before bathing everything in a tomato-colored juice. The fire can now crackle below. The containers with broken spouts and handles slowly boil, after being covered with a sheet.
“The recipe has been the same for more than 60 years, it was my father who passed it on to me. He himself got it from his father. I haven’t changed anything,” explains Waheed, who does not wish to give her last name.
Quickly, the heat invades the modest room with Spartan equipment and lets out the first aromas of mutton, which mix with the smell of embers.
After five hours of cooking, closely watched, and the addition of spices, the verdict finally rings out: customers, sitting cross-legged around the dish or on a chair in front of a table, can finally enjoy themselves, after paying 200 Afghanis (2.15 euros).
“It’s so delicious and tasty,” comments Ghulam Usman Tarin, who heard about the address through word of mouth.
In his 15 years of frequenting the place, Zabihullah raves about the lamb stew which takes its name from “chainak”, meaning teapot in several Afghan languages: “When I eat it, I feel energized until evening”. “The meat comes from our country (…) and it’s very light for us”, enthuses the man, who does not hesitate to come two to three times a week.
Waheed is the only one in his family to know the ingredients that made his dish famous, tasted by Afghan television stars, politicians, and a few foreign tourists passing through the Afghan capital.
From the age of 13, the restaurateur, who left school after primary school, hung out in the kitchens of his father’s restaurants, where he was told the secrets of this recipe which he jealously guards, and which he worried, he grumbles to AFP, that it will be revealed to its competitors because of its media coverage.
On the death of his father, he took over definitively when he was 25 years old. But he may well be the last of the family to carry on the tradition. Of his ten children, none is expected to continue.
“They study at school. They don’t have the patience to do this work,” comments the slender 40-year-old.
Barely time to eat a “chainaki” which he eats every day, Waheed has to get back to work and cut into pieces the kilos of meat that will cook the next day in the teapots.
“I will continue as long as I have the strength to do so, because it is a memory of my father (…) His chainaki was better than mine. No student can replace his teacher. Likewise, we cannot not replace our father”, pays tribute to him Waheed.
20/06/2023 05:21:14 – Kabul (AFP) © 2023 AFP
