As the Muslim call to prayer echoes through the air, I find myself standing outside a small bakery in the old town of Srinagar, capital of the territory of Jammu and Kashmir in northern India. Locals are eagerly picking up freshly made girdas (bread made with the baker's finger impressions in their crusts) and thin, rounded lavasas. All are wrapped in old newspapers to be taken home for family breakfasts.
The bakery is a family venture, like most kandurwans (Kashmir bakeries) with the husband kneading the dough and the wife slapping it onto the walls of a glowing tandoor oven built into the ground, from which she retrieves the baked bread with a long iron rod.
These artisanal bakers, called kandurs, have nourished Kashmir communities for hundreds of years, stoking their fires early in the morning and working through the day. Abdul Majid, a local guide, says it is a cherished Kashmiri tradition to visit the neighborhood baker and pick up a fresh breakfast. Breads like lavasa and girda (also known as tzot) are enjoyed with noon chai, a savory pink tea made with milk, baking soda and salt. It is a unique and heartwarming custom that brings the community together.
The wider region of Kashmir, part of which is now in neighboring Pakistan, has faced war and civil strife, and remains disputed between India and its neighbor. But it has a rich bread-making heritage that dates to the Silk Road, an ancient trade route connecting Europe, the Middle East and Asia. Traders from Central Asia used to visit the valley, bringing their baking and cooking traditions with them. In Kashmir, breads are cooked in an oven in the ground; in other parts of India, roti, a soft unleavened bread, is cooked on a pan or baked in a standing or wall oven.
Legend has it that the Kashmiri Sufi poet Lal Ded jumped into a baker's clay tandoor oven to hide from an evil pursuer and emerged decked in ornaments and new clothes. Bakers think of the poet as a divine spirit that keeps their tandoors burning. A local kandurwan is also a cozy place to socialize in the region's bitter winters, when bread is sometimes the only sustenance available in villages cut off by snowstorms.
There are as many as 15 kinds of bread in Kashmir, ranging from the festive and subtly sweet sheermal to the flaky, layered bakarkhani, baked with dollops of ghee, and the sweet, spongy roth, studded with dried fruit.
The tandoor is on from 2 a.m., when the baker stokes the fire, and as the temperature falls, different kinds of breads are baked -- lavasa without butter or ghee when it is hottest; bagel-like breads called telvor and tsochwor, encrusted with poppy seeds, when it cools a little; and finally roth, sweet and laced with black cardamom, dry fruits and nuts, at about 3 p.m.
"As a kid, every morning, I'd be woken up at the crack of dawn to fetch the day's bread -- tzot -- from the local baker," says Yaser Shaw, who runs Nadis, a Srinagar hotel. "Kashmiri breakfasts aren't elaborate. Tzot with a dollop of jam or butter, chai and the occasional egg, and off one goes to school or work. No teatime is complete without bread freshly baked by a local baker, based on the various times of the day."
Food writer and author Marryam H. Reshi, who is married to a Kashmiri, marvels at how Kashmiri bakers create the finest breads with the most primitive tools. She describes the scene: piles of evenly cut wood, a tandoor fixed to the floor, a platform where the bakery owner sits by the cash box, and his team of boys, each with their specific task.
"The kandurwans have historically served as a social hub, buzzing with the latest gossip and political discussions from male customers who visit every morning to buy bread for their families. When asked why their bread is superior, the kandur simply points to heaven, attributing their success to the blessings of the Almighty," she says with a smile.
"Kandurwan: Baking History," a 2019 documentary by the young Kashmiri filmmaker Mehvish Rather, has won many international awards. "My inspiration behind the film was to capture the lived culture in Kashmir -- how life is lived and what sustains our culture," says Rather.
"Kandurwans [are] an invaluable part of the Kashmiri society. It is the place of gathering after morning prayers, the bread is served during different functions and even funerals ... and both the kandurwan and the breads have deep historical significance that goes back to our ties with Central Asia," she says. "Even if there is a lockdown or strike or civil strife, kandurwans are always open, and they have become a lifeline of society in difficult times."
Journalist Safina Nabi, based in Kashmir, reminisces about the fresh bread of the region, which she missed while living abroad. "Different breads are enjoyed at various times of the day," she says. "Daily breads have a short shelf life but certain dry breads like sheermal made with ghee have a long shelf life and can be carried on trips and pilgrimages."
Many parts of the region are famous for specific breads. Pampore is famous for its sheermal, which pairs wonderfully with kawha, a saffron tea, and Anantnag for katlam, a local version of the croissant, which is generally eaten with evening tea. Traditionally, breads were made with refined flour, but many kandurs now use whole wheat and corn flour for health considerations.
Pooja Razdan, a Kashmiri pandit living in Mumbai, fondly recalls memories of her grandmother feeding her fresh bread during visits to Kashmir. Her favorites were katlam and roth, which is a special treat for festivals, the Kashmiri new year and weddings. "Roth is also called roth khabar (news) [because it is] a celebratory bread sent to friends and relatives when there is good news like a birth or a wedding, and it tastes divine," says Razdan.
Many top Indian chefs are popularizing Kashmiri breads through their restaurants, introducing delicious creations with a modern twist to a wider audience. Prateek Sadhu serves flaky bakarkhani at his restaurant Naar in Himachal Pradesh state, while Varun Totlani at Mumbai's Masque offers a variety of Kashmiri breads.
"We serve sheermal ... with a lamb floss kebab and green chutney," says Totlani. "I also love working with a Kashmiri katlam bread that's crunchy on the outside with a soft core, typically eaten with evening tea, and use it to make my version of a duck hot dog."
Recently, French-style cafes and Western breads and cakes have become popular in Srinagar, but a trip to the kandurwan is something that almost everyone still enjoys. "It cuts across communities and religions [and] rich or poor," says Nabi. "Having fresh bread with a cup of tea on a cold winter morning is a luxury that's available to anyone in Kashmir."
In Kashmir, bread is not just food -- it represents a long tradition and is a symbol of the amalgamation of numerous civilizations and religions that have had an impact on the culture of the region, providing a thread of continuity through tumultuous times.
It also remains artisanal and local, reflecting the intricate cultural diversity of the region and its harsh terrain and climate, and offering at least one area of daily life in which all the divided region's communities can take an equal part.
Kalpana Sunder is a contributing writer.
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