I’ll start. When I say just Biryani, I mean Bombay Biryani. That’s a specific style — generous onions and tomatoes in the base, always potatoes, and the secret ingredient — dried apricots that disintegrate during the long, slow cook and are only discernible by the kernel that remains. I’ll eat other biryani, but this is the one I crave.
I think this style may be called Sindhi Biryani in other places.
Not a huge fan of Awadhi/Lucknowi or the derivative Calcutta/Kolkata Biryani because they taste more like what I grew up eating as Pulao — less spiced, more subtle (no tomatoes, subtle onions).
The first time I ate Hyderabadi Biryani was in Hyderabad, and I didn’t love it because it seemed like a mixed-up version of the Biryani I knew. That was the kid me — the adult me enjoys this style, and the many other southern styles of Biryani (that may be more identifiable as Biryani to some in North America, especially the Bay Area).
I almost never order Biryani in New York or elsewhere North America because what’s usually served some travesty resembling the video linked — curry mixed with rice, and if they’re trying to be really “authentic”, throw on a dough lid and let it brown so there’s some table drama when it’s lifted off (see: Adda in NYC). Nothing has actually been cooked as it should. The divey cab driver places are an exception — it’s not the Biryani I want, but at least it’s Biryani of some real sort.
