Stephanie In my childhood home, basmati was more than just something served during a meal. Everything, it seemed to me, that had to do with rice was full of ritual. The long grains perfumed the kitchen during pujas, weddings, and even ordinary weeknight dinners.
Of course, when it came to cooking the rice, the key ingredient, my mother always said was patience. Her process was simple, but it had to be done just right: rinse the rice until the water runs clear, soak it for thirty minutes, then add it to a pot with enough water to cover it by two inches, and let it steam gently until each grain is fluffy and separate. Now this was her way to cook Basmati rice. (I learned as I grew up that there were many different types of rice with as many different cooking methods. Nature never ceases to delight wither it is Bamboo Green Rice or the Himalayan Red rice!)
Basmati was also our celebratory rice. For birthdays, my father would crown it with saffron, fried cashews, and golden raisins. For festivals, biryani would arrive at the table and when the lid was lifted….the spice-laden aroma mixed with the nutty rice was nothing short of magical. My personal favorite was always my grandmother’s goat biryani—slow-cooked meat melting into the grains, with just the right amount of heat from green chilies. My mother’s vegetable pulao, though, could give it stiff competition, with peas, carrots, and tomatoes dotting the rice like jewels.
What I later learned is that every region of India has its own interpretation of biryani. In Hyderabad, it is dum-style, where the rice and marinated meat are layered and sealed in a heavy pot, slow-cooked so the steam marries the flavors together. In Kolkata, potatoes share the stage with meat, and a subtle sweetness from saffron and rose water perfumes the dish. Lucknow’s Awadhi biryani is regal and refined, often cooked with delicate spices and tender cuts of lamb. Even within families, there are variations: some insist on frying the rice in ghee before steaming, while others half cook the rice separately and fold it gently into the curry base. Each method produces a slightly different character: some biryanis are rich and heavy, while others are light and aromatic.
Beyond biryani, rice itself takes on countless forms. Basmati can be transformed into a simple jeera rice, with cumin seeds sizzling in ghee before the grains are added. It can become khichdi, a comforting porridge of rice and lentils tempered with turmeric and ginger. Or it can be turned into sweet payasam or kheer, simmered slowly with milk, cardamom, and sugar until every grain is soft and infused with sweetness. Even the cooking methods vary. While steaming preserves the long, separate grains, pressure cooking creates a creamier, softer texture. Each approach reflects the intention of the dish: festive, everyday, or nourishing.
Basmati itself is a gift of the Himalayan foothills. Known as the “queen of fragrance,” its name literally means “fragrant” in Sanskrit. Each grain elongates when cooked and remains separate, a mark of quality that makes this rice prized worldwide. Beyond its aroma, basmati is lower on the glycemic index than many other rices, making it gentler on blood sugar. In Ayurveda, it is considered cooling and easy to digest, a food that nourishes body and spirit. It is no wonder that in so many Indian homes, including mine, basmati rice is never just food. It is celebration in every grain.
Cook your next pulao or biryani with Laxmi Basmati Rice. It’s aged to perfection and brings out that nutty aroma we all crave.
And if you are looking for a Fusion Recipe and from your Left over Biryani Pulav?
Check this out: