A Navroz Feast From A Delhi Parsi Kitchen With Shelley Subawalla

In her kitchen in Delhi NCR, Shelley Subawalla is waging a delicious war against time. Armed with nothing but her grandmother's recipes and a fierce determination, she's fighting to save the culinary soul of one of India's most endangered communities: the Parsis.

"Navroz is our new year as per our Parsi calendar. It is basically a day of fun and celebrations," she says, stirring a pot of fragrant pulao daar. "We, the Delhi Parsis, meet at our temple and have a feast." But behind her cheerful demeanour lies an urgent mission. With barely 70,000 Parsis left worldwide and only a handful in the capital city, every recipe preserved is a small victory against cultural extinction.

The Spice Keeper's Burden

"Youngsters just don't have the time or inclination to learn about our traditions, our history," Shelley sighs. "There are so many pickles and delicacies that today hardly anyone makes them. Everyone wants to eat it but doesn't have the patience or knowledge to make and prepare."

Zarin's Secrets is part business and part cultural rescue mission of Delhi Parsi kitchens. Through her bespoke spice blends and condiments, Shelley has become the keeper of flavours that would otherwise vanish. When Navroz approaches, her phone buzzes with requests for forgotten masalas and ancestral recipes. Each order connects her deeper to traditions that feel increasingly fragile.

"There are particular foods that are called 'sagan nu bhonu', or auspicious day foods," she explains, rattling off names like a culinary archaeologist: "kohra nu murrabo (white pumpkin sweet chutney), gajar meva nu achaar (carrot and dry fruit pickle), daar ni pori (lentil sweet pie)." These aren't just dishes, they're edible heirlooms, passed down through generations for reasons now lost to time. "Why? I presume this is what has been coming down for generations, hence we do it, hence the traditions."

One Perfect Menu For Navroz 

Ask Shelley to plan the ideal Navroz feast for eight, and she doesn't hesitate: "Gos nu pulao daar, salli ma marghi, gajar meva nu achaar, sariya (Parsi papad), rotli ne ravo." It's a menu that tells the story of Parsi cuisine, Persian influences mingled with Indian flavours, creating something entirely unique.

The centrepiece is always pulao daar, and Shelley's version is a masterclass in patience. The meat marinates overnight in curd and her signature masala blend. Onions are browned to perfection, tomatoes cooked until they surrender their sweetness. The rice; half white, half saffron-kissed; is layered like golden silk sheets, each layer blessed with ghee and fresh lime juice.

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"Take your rice and divide it into two portions," she instructs with the precision of someone who's done this hundreds of times. "Pour meat in first, then layer with yellow rice, top with white rice. Add ghee between each layer." The dish is then sealed with atta dough and cooked dum-style, or as Shelley pragmatically notes, "cover and put in the microwave for 20 minutes."

Her Patio, a tangy fish curry that's deceptively simple, showcases another side of Parsi cooking. "Brown onions nicely, add tomatoes, then jeera garlic paste and all the spices," she says. The secret ingredient? "Malt vinegar, I use Kolah's vinegar for that authentic Parsi taste." It's this tang that sets Parsi curries apart from their Indian cousins, a Persian whisper in every spoonful.

Breaking the Exotic Myth

"It is not exotic. It is easy to prepare at home with the right ingredients and is totally accessible," Shelley insists, her voice carrying a hint of frustration. She's tired of Parsi food being relegated to the "exotic" category, as if it's some unreachable culinary Everest.

Her masala fish recipe proves her point beautifully. With just turmeric, her Kashmiri marchu blend, jeera-garlic paste, and Parsi sambhar masala, ordinary fish fillets transform into something magical. "Prepare a marinade, add the fish to the marinade and keep aside for an hour," she says. The technique is elementary, the results sublime.

Operating from Delhi presents its own challenges, but Shelley has cracked the code. "I buy all my stuff from one store in INA," she reveals. "Not really a problem as most ingredients are our usual, readily available stuff." It's a reminder that great cooking often comes down to technique and knowledge rather than rare ingredients.

Through Zarin's Secrets, Shelley has democratised authentic Parsi cooking. Her spice blends carry the DNA of generations, but they're designed for modern kitchens and busy lives.

The Sweet Ending

"Ravo," she says without hesitation when asked about her go-to Navroz dessert. It's telling, this semolina-based sweet embodies everything Shelley stands for. Simple ingredients, complex flavours, and traditions that refuse to be forgotten.

In her Delhi kitchen, with spices sourced from the INA market and techniques passed down through countless generations, Shelley Subawalla is proving that preservation doesn't require a museum; it requires passion, patience, and the courage to keep cooking when the world seems to be forgetting how to eat with its soul.

Every jar of her masala, every shared recipe, every perfectly spiced dish is an act of rebellion against cultural amnesia. In a world obsessed with fusion and trends, Shelley chooses tradition and makes it taste like home.