Kashmir's Ancient Wazwan Feast Evolves as Younger Chefs Trade Wedding Kitchens for Restaurants

Across the courtyards and narrow lanes of Kashmir, the unmistakable sound of wooden mallets striking meat signals the start of a culinary ritual that has endured for six centuries. As autumn sets in, traditional chefs known as wazas begin the painstaking work of preparing Wazwan, a lavish multi-course mutton feast that remains the centrepiece of Kashmiri wedding celebrations.

The dish traces its origins to the 14th century, when it arrived in the valley from Central Asia. Rulers of that era brought skilled cooks with them, alongside the carpet and shawl weavers whose craftsmanship would go on to define the region's cultural heritage. What began as a foreign import gradually took root in local life, becoming inseparable from Kashmiri identity.

Today, Wazwan serves a dual purpose. For families hosting weddings, the scale and richness of the feast is a public statement of social standing. For the wider Kashmiri community, it functions as a living symbol of cultural continuity, preserved through generations despite decades of political upheaval and social change in the region.

Among those safeguarding the tradition is Ghulam Nabi Baba, a 74-year-old chef who traces his ancestry directly to those early Central Asian migrants. His forebears settled in Srinagar's old city, forming part of a community of cooks historically known as Wazpora. Baba has spent a lifetime mastering the techniques passed down through his family line.

Speaking about the evolution of the menu, Baba recalled that the feast was once far simpler. "There were only seven mutton dishes at that time," he said. "Over the centuries we added more, and now there are around 20." This expansion, he explained, reflects centuries of refinement, experimentation and changing expectations among Kashmiri hosts.

The volume of food prepared at weddings has also become a marker of wealth and generosity. Baba described one exceptionally large event he catered four decades ago in Delina, a village in north Kashmir, where approximately 4,500 kilograms of meat were cooked. By contrast, he noted, an average marriage today typically uses around 200 kilograms of meat — a figure that remains substantial for an ordinary family.

Despite the growing number of dishes and the fluctuating quantities involved, the fundamental methods of Wazwan cookery have barely shifted over the centuries. Lightly spiced meat is still tenderised by hand, pounded with wooden mallets on stone slabs, before being simmered slowly over wood fires. This labour-intensive process is what gives the cuisine its distinctive texture and smoky depth.

The signature dishes of the feast remain well known to Kashmiris and increasingly to outsiders. They include rista, delicate meatballs served in a vibrant red gravy, and gushtaba, a yoghurt-based meat preparation that traditionally concludes the meal. Rogan josh, a slow-cooked lamb curry, stands as perhaps the most globally recognised dish, while tabak maaz, or fried ribs, and various kababs fill out the extensive menu.

Baba's own introduction to the profession came at the age of 15, when he joined his father as a cook. Since then, he has followed the same demanding routine his ancestors observed, working long hours through the night to feed hundreds of wedding guests. The physical toll of the job is considerable, requiring strength, stamina and years of practised skill.

That burden is now shaping the future of the tradition. Baba's son has chosen a different path, opting to open a restaurant instead of continuing as a wedding caterer. The younger man reportedly considers the round-the-clock demands of wedding work too exhausting, particularly the gruelling schedule and the physical strain of preparing vast quantities of food under time pressure.

Yet Baba's son does not see his decision as an abandonment of his heritage. He maintains that he is carrying the family's centuries-old culinary legacy forward, simply in a different setting. The restaurant format allows Wazwan to reach new audiences while adapting to contemporary tastes and the realities of modern working life.

His choice reflects a broader shift within Kashmir's culinary community. In recent years, a growing number of younger chefs have moved away from the wedding catering circuit and into restaurant kitchens. This migration is transforming how Wazwan is consumed, moving it from an occasional ceremonial indulgence into a more accessible everyday dining option.

Restaurants in Srinagar and beyond now serve Wazwan to diners who may not have a wedding to attend. Customers arrive in search of the same dishes that once appeared only at major family celebrations. For many younger Kashmiris and visitors, this represents their first encounter with a cuisine that their grandparents experienced exclusively at communal festivities.

The transition carries both opportunity and risk. On one hand, restaurant work offers chefs steadier hours, more predictable income and a chance to refine their craft without the relentless pressure of the wedding season. On the other, some traditionalists worry that the ceremonial context — the shared trami platter, the ritual order of dishes, the communal nature of the meal — may lose its significance.

At weddings, Wazwan is served on a trami, a traditional copper platter shared among a small group of guests who eat together. The final dish, gushtaba, signals the end of the meal, a custom with near-ritual importance. Preserving these practices in restaurant settings requires deliberate effort, as the format inherently prioritises individual portions over communal dining.

Even the tools of the trade carry historical weight. Cooks prepare the feast in degchis, heavy-bottomed copper pots that sit over open wood fires. These vessels, along with the stone slabs used for pounding meat, represent a material culture passed down alongside the recipes themselves, binding today's chefs to their predecessors.

For now, the rhythmic thud of mallets continues to echo through Kashmiri neighbourhoods as autumn arrives and wedding season approaches. Whether in a crowded courtyard or an air-conditioned restaurant, the essence of Wazwan endures — a 600-year-old culinary inheritance, continually reshaped by the hands that prepare it and the lives of those who carry it forward.