I knew the commodity was different the first time I ate biryani in Dubai.
It was n’t just the rice, or the tender meat. It was the aroma of cardamom, saffron, and dried limes — flavours that felt familiar yet carried a distinctly Emirati echo.
That moment, sitting in a crowded cafeteria in Deira girdled by chatter in Arabic, Hindi, and Urdu, I realised commodity food then does n’t belong to just one culture. It’s a discussion. And in the UAE, that discussion between Emirati and Indian cookery has been going on for centuries.
The Problem: We Treat Cultures as Separate Plates
Too frequently, we talk about Emirati food and Indian food as if they’re neatly divided — like two plates on a table, each staying in its lane. But history nowadays works that way.
mariners, dealers, and settlers moving across the Arabian Sea carried further than just goods they carried spices, fashions, and habits. Over time, Emirati and Indian cookeries began adopting from each other.
- Emiratis picked up masalas, chutneys, and rice dishes from India.
- Indians espoused Emirati constituents like saffron, dates, and dried limes.
Yet at the moment, most people forget this participating trip. They suppose biryani is purely Indian, or that harees is purely Emirati, without realising both were shaped by centuries of exchange.
And that’s a shame, because when we forget, we lose the uproariousness of understanding why food tastes the way it does.
Agitation: Why Ignoring These Crossroads Cheapens the Experience
Let me give you a real-life example. I once took an Indian friend visiting Dubai to a traditional Emirati restaurant. She ordered machboos, expecting something completely “foreign.” When it arrived, she stared at me and said, “This smells like biryani’s cousin!”
She was right. Machboos, with its spiced rice and meat, feels like a Gulf twist on Indian biryani. But here’s the kicker: if you don’t know the history, you miss the joy of noticing those overlaps.
The same goes the other way. Walk into an Indian restaurant in Bur Dubai, and you’ll find halwa with saffron that owes its sweetness to Emirati kitchens. Even chai in the UAE has traces of Emirati generosity—strong, spiced, always served in abundance.
When we ignore these influences, we flatten the story. Food becomes just food, instead of a living archive of culture, migration, and shared memory.
The Solution: Celebrating Imtiaz—The Blended Culture of Food
“ Imtiaz ” literally means distinction or oneness. In the UAE environment, I like to suppose it as the unique mix that emerges when Emirati and Indian traditions meet. It’s not about one overpowering the other, it’s about creating new commodities together.
So let’s dive into how Emirati influences show up in Indian cookery, and vice versa.
1. The Spice Route Never Really Ended
Cardamom, cloves, saffron, cinnamon — these are the backbone of both Emirati and Indian kitchens. Dealers moved them across swells long before supermarkets.
- Emirati rice dishes like machboos echo Indian pulao.
- Emirati goodies like luqaimat occasionally adopt the scent of rosewater and cardamom, masses in Indian sweets.
Indeed, if you taste a Gulf- style biryani, it has Emirati autographs — like dried limes( loomi) for tang, or date saccharinity for depth.
2. Dates and Desserts with a Twist
Dates are practically a symbol of Emirati hospitality. But walk into Indian communities in the UAE, and you’ll see them reimagined:
- Dates stuffed with nuts, coated in spices.
- Indian sweets like laddoos are made with date syrup instead of sugar.
I once had a kheer (Indian rice pudding) at a friend’s home in Sharjah sweetened entirely with dates. It was so rich and earthy that I couldn’t imagine going back to regular sugar. That’s Imtiaz culture in a spoonful.
3. Tea Time Fusion: Karak Chai
Ask anyone in the UAE what energies their day, and nine out of ten will say karak chai.
Yes, chai is Indian at its heart. But karak — stronger, milkier, spiced else is the Emirati adaptation. It’s vended in bitsy roadside cafeterias, served in paper mugs, and cherished across communities.
That daily ritual is a memorial society doesn’t just blend in history books, they blend in business logjams, at tea booths, and in the middle of ordinary afterlife.
4. Rice Dishes: Machboos, Biryani, and Everything in Between
Machboos is frequently called the Emirati public dish. Biryani is iconic in Indian kitchens. But put them side by side, and you’ll see the family resemblance.
- Both calculate on long- grain rice, seasoned meat, and slow cuisine.
- Emirati machboos spare on loomi and lower oil painting.
- Indian biryani layers masala, fried onions, and more violent heat.
When I first cooked machboos at home, my Indian neighbour knocked on my door, curious. She tasted it and said, “ This is biryani that went to the Gulf and came back richer. ” I could not have said it more myself.
5. Festivals and Food: Shared Tables, Shared Stories
During Ramadan, Emirati homes prepare harees, a wheat- and- meat porridge. Indian Muslims make haleem, nearly identical but with redundant spices. These are n’t concurrence they’re culinary relatives born of artistic exchange.
Eid gatherings frequently feature Emirati sweets like balaleet( sweet vermicelli with eggs) alongside Indian sweets like gulab jamun. People do n’t suppose doubly about mixing them on the same table, because then, food boundaries blur naturally.
A Cup of Tea Moment: My Own Experience
I’ll confess—my relationship with Emirati food started with confusion. When I first tasted luqaimat, those golden fried dumplings drizzled with date syrup, I thought, “These are like Indian gulab jamun’s crunchy sisters!”
But then I realised something deeper. The comfort I felt eating them wasn’t just about taste—it was about recognition. Familiar flavours in a new language. Like meeting someone from a different country who shares your childhood memories.
That’s what Imtiaz culture is all about. Not mixing for the sake of novelty, but discovering the overlaps that have always been there.
Where to Explore This Fusion Today
If you’re in the UAE, you don’t have to look far:
- Roadside cafeterias: Grab a karak chai and samosa—they’re as Emirati as they are Indian now.
- Family restaurants in Deira or Sharjah: Biryani with Emirati spices sits next to Indian curries.
- Emirati households: During Ramadan or Eid, you’ll see Indian and Emirati dishes happily participating at the same table.
And if you want fashions, deeper dives, or artistic food stories, Koshary Zizo is a great starting point. It’s packed with perceptivity on how food peregrination adapts, and continues to surprise us.
Conclusion: Food is the Story of Us
Emirati and Indian cookeries do n’t just “ influence ” each other — they complete each other. From the saffron in biryani to the dates in Indian sweets, from karak chai to machboos, each dish carries the fingerprints of both props.
So the coming time you belt karak or scoop biryani in Dubai, do n’t just think of it as Indian or Emirati. suppose it as a love letter across the Arabian Sea, inked by centuries of dealers, families, and everyday culinarians.
Food, after all, is n’t about drawing borders, it’s about participating tables. And Imtiaz culture? That’s the evidence on every plate.
