KARACHI:
For us desis, Eidul Azha doesn’t end at qurbani; it’s about what happens after: the sizzle of meat hitting the grill, the scent of spices wafting through the house, and the joyful chaos of feeding everyone from your meat-loving chacha to your vegetarian best friend.
It’s a festival of flavour, and your table deserves more than just a pot of gravy. Whether you’re team kebab, craving chicken comfort, dodging red meat altogether, or just saving stomach space for dessert, we’ve got your Eid spread sorted.
Kebabs take centre stage
While gravies are a staple in many homes, there’s something deeply celebratory about the charred charm of kebabs. The most appealing thing about kebabs during Eid season is that they neutralise the sometimes-overwhelming scent of fresh meat.
Start off strong with the pride of Karachi’s Biharis, Bihari kebabs: thin strips of beef marinated overnight in raw papaya paste, mustard oil, fried onions, and a rich blend of garam masala. The secret is in the velvety tenderness and that hit of mustard that cuts through the richness. Grilled on skewers until the edges crisp, these kebabs are a smoky, silky indulgence that disappears faster than you can say “second helping.”
Then bring out the chapli kebabs, the rough-and-tumble cousin with a cult following. Originating from Peshawar, these flattened patties of minced beef or mutton come loaded with chopped tomatoes, chilies, and ground spices. Cooked on a griddle in a shallow pool of fat, the best chaplis are crisp at the edges, juicy in the middle, and unapologetically spicy. They’re the street snack that graduates to your Eid table with swagger.
For something that screams primal delight, try smoky mutton chops. These aren’t the dainty ribs of fine-dining menus; these are the meaty, marrow-rich hunks that hurrying Eid butchers mess up, marinated in yogurt, ginger-garlic paste, and vinegar, then grilled until the fat caramelises and you get that irresistible outer char. Served hot with a squeeze of lemon and sliced onions, they’re pure, unfiltered joy.
But don’t forget the spicy goat liver, best served the day after sacrifice. Cut into bite-sized pieces, liver is best prepared by soaking it overnight in a solution of water and vinegar to drain it off residual blood and scent until it is pale pink in colour.
Then the liver is flash-fried with green chilies, cumin, garlic, and a dash of vinegar or lemon. This is definitely an acquired taste, a favourite for those who like bold, minerally flavours. When done right, it’s not rubbery, it’s rich, buttery, and full of heat. Eat it hot with paratha, or wrap it up in roti for on-the-go grazing between guests.
And if you’re feeding a crowd, you need a showstopper, and a mutton leg roast takes the cake for this. This one takes hours, and that’s the point. A full leg is marinated with ginger, garlic, yogurt, crushed black pepper, and lemon juice, then slow-roasted in the oven or tandoor until it’s fall-off-the-bone tender. The crust is everything, spicy, salty, faintly sweet from caramelised fat. Bring it out with flourish, carve it tableside, and soak up the applause.
Something familiar, something comforting
Let’s face it: not everyone is in the mood for freshly slaughtered red meat. Some prefer the gentler appeal of chicken, and that’s okay.
Enter the simple chicken gravy, a no-fuss, crowd-pleasing dish that doubles as comfort food and celebration staple. Think golden-brown onions, tomatoes cooked down to a paste, bone-in chicken simmered until tender, and just enough spice to give it soul without burning tongues. It’s the dish that grandparents and picky kids both reach for.
Pair it with khushka, aromatic rice that’s cooked in stock, but without the intrusion of whole spices or vegetables. It’s light, fluffy, and absorbs the gravy like a dream.
Meatless, not joyless
Eidul Azha might revolve around meat, but hospitality is about inclusion, and that means making space for vegetarian and vegan guests, too. With the right dishes, no one feels like an afterthought.
Start with vegetable cutlets, golden-fried pockets of mashed potatoes, peas, carrots, and beets, spiced with chaat masala and dipped in breadcrumbs.
These are nostalgia bombs for many, reminiscent of train journeys and school lunchboxes, but on Eid, they become crispy conversation-starters that even die-hard carnivores will sneak seconds of.
For something richer, bring out the palak paneer. Wilted spinach pureed into a velvet-green sauce, folded around soft cubes of paneer, seasoned with ginger, green chilies, and a whisper of cream. It’s indulgent yet earthy, and its bright green contrast cuts through the parade of browns and reds. Serve it with naan or basmati rice, and you’ve got a vegetarian main that holds its own next to mutton roast.
You can also throw in a fresh salad: tomato, cucumber, onion, coriander, lemon juice, and a sprinkle of chaat masala. It’s raw, crisp, and refreshing, perfect for breaking up the richness of the meal.
Finish with a fresh note
The thing about Eid desserts is that they can often be heavy. And after a day of kebabs, gravies, and celebratory overindulgence, you want something sweet, but not cloying. This is where sheer khorma shines: the original Eid dessert, made with roasted vermicelli, dates, milk, and dry fruits, sheer khorma is light in texture but rich in flavor. Serve it chilled for a refreshing endnote, or warm for nostalgia. Add slivered almonds and pistachios, and don’t skimp on the cardamom.
For something colder and bouncier, try a fruit trifle. This isn’t your bakery’s neon jelly nightmare. The best trifles layer homemade sponge cake (or even store-bought pound cake), fresh seasonal fruit: mango, banana, strawberries if you can find them, vanilla custard, and whipped cream. It’s soft, airy, and perfect for that third round of dessert at midnight when everyone’s lounging on cushions, swearing they can’t eat another bite.
Bonus points if you serve both in small glass bowls; they look beautiful, and they prevent over-portioning, until the second serving, of course.
