In the early 2010s, a Bengaluru-based restaurateur curated a rotating menu of biryanis from across Karnataka, backed by extensive research. Much to the disappointment of OG foodies then, the venture shut down in no time, perhaps because there was no social media to amplify such a niche concept.In Karnataka, biryani is not merely a celebratory dish — it is a record of movement, necessity and everyday appetite. Hence, there are a handful of distinct varieties of Karnataka biryanis. Tracing its journey from royal kitchens and military camps to roadside eateries and wedding feasts reveals a food that has quietly adapted across regions and communities, absorbing local tastes without losing its core identity. Unlike the widely documented biryanis of Hyderabad or Awadh, Karnataka’s versions remain understated, loosely defined and deeply regional, shaped more by geography and economy than by courtly spectacle.Social media, increased migration into Bengaluru and a new generation of chefs and writers documenting regional micro-cuisines have brought the once-overlooked styles of Karnataka biryani into public conversation. What is emerging now is not a single definition of Karnataka biryani, but a recognition of its diversity — a culinary map that mirrors the state’s layered cultural geography.Food hospitality professional and writer Aslam Gafoor describes Karnataka biryani not as a single tradition but as a cluster of regional rice-and-meat preparations that evolved independently across the state. Coastal influences, interior farming cultures and working-class food habits, all played a role. What unites many of these styles, he notes, is practicality. These are not ornamental, layered biryanis built around luxury ingredients, but robust, everyday dishes designed to feed many — quickly and affordably.Cooking it differentlyAcross the state, biryani takes markedly different forms. Bengaluru and its surrounding districts are best known for donne biryani, a spice-forward preparation traditionally served in palm-leaf cups. Along the coast, especially in Bhatkal, biryani reflects centuries of maritime exchange, shaped by Arab and Persian-influenced Nawayath cuisine. Here biryani is known for its lighter, non-greasy texture — meat is cooked separately in an onion and green-chilli-based gravy and then layered with fragrant rice, rather than being drowned in ghee or rich oils. In north Karnataka, slow-cooked meat-centric styles influenced by the Hyderabadi masala mix dominate, while regions such as Hassan and Kodagu are known for milder, dum-style preparations that sit somewhere between a biryani and a pulao.One dish, many local kitchensBengaluru has emerged as the most visible stage where these traditions intersect. With its layered history and migrant population, the city functions less as the birthplace of Karnataka’s biryanis and more as their testing ground. Styles once confined to specific towns or neighbourhoods are now encountered side by side — debated, compared and occasionally reinvented — through military hotels, modest messes and newer restaurants attempting revival. Aslam points out that this convergence has made Bengaluru central to how Karnataka biryani is discussed today, even if its roots lie elsewhere.Built for everyday, shaped by movementSome of these traditions remained hidden in plain sight for decades. The Hubballi variety, long sold through small booths and military hotels, stayed local for years before gaining wider visibility. Its recent rise in Bengaluru, especially over the last 15 to 20 years, mirrors the city’s changing demographics and the role of migration in reshaping food culture.That difference is something Sangamesh, an IT professional from Hubballi now living in Bengaluru, notices clearly. “What I eat here and what I eat back home are called the same thing, but they’re not the same,” he says. “In Hubballi, the flavours are sharper and more familiar — it feels like food meant for locals. In Bengaluru, it’s adapted. The spice levels change, the presentation changes, sometimes even the meat cuts. It’s good, but it’s different.”The Hubballi and Belgaum versions are the two popular varieties of biryanis from north Karnataka. “Both biryanis are heavily influenced by Hyderabadi masalas. The key difference is that we don’t use whole spices like how they do in Hyderabad,” says Muhammad Ziya Ul Haq, who runs the restaurant Al-Madina in Hubballi town. Spices are ground to powder and used in Hubballi and Belgaum biryanis. Sona masoori and jeera rice varieties are traditionally used to make biryanis in Hubballi households, but a basmati takeover is going on. While red and green chillies are used to prepare mildly spiced Hubballi biryanis, only green chillies are used, extensively, to make Belgaum biryani, a spicy signature one-pot dish of Belavagi district. “Belgaum biryani is flavourful when the locally grown Belgaum basmati is used. But the rice tends to cook too fast, so many restaurants prefer jeera rice or regular basmati. A lot more fried onions are also used,” says Ziya.Hassan biryani, by contrast, remains gentle and restrained, closer to everyday home cooking than restaurant spectacle. Avoiding heavy masalas, it relies on subtle seasoning and slow cooking, giving it a distinctly “homely” character that resists easy categorisation.Let the donne do the talkingAt the heart of this landscape sits donne biryani, closely tied to the state’s working-class and naati (local) food culture. Popularised through military hotels — most famously places like Shivaji Military Hotel — and roadside eateries, it prioritised speed, consistency and volume over ceremony. Prepared using jeera rice instead of basmati, driven by green chillies rather than aromatic whole spices, and cooked with bone-in meat to maximise flavour and economy, donne biryani reflects a utilitarian philosophy. Its very name comes from the leaf cup in which it was served, reinforcing its identity as food meant to be eaten quickly and affordably.Aslam emphasises that Karnataka’s biryanis evolved through adaptation rather than replication. Persian influences entered via Hyderabad, while neighbouring Andhra, Tamil Nadu and Kerala traditions left their mark along trade routes and migration corridors. Local cooks reshaped these influences to suit available ingredients and everyday needs — replacing expensive imports with local produce, country-bred meat and robust spice pastes. The result was food that was deeply satisfying but rarely documented. Unlike Hyderabadi or Awadhi biryanis, which benefited from royal patronage and institutional backing, Karnataka’s styles thrived in neighbourhood booths and homes.A coastal legacy influenced by tradeBhatkal biryani is a reflection of history, hospitality and heritage. Ajaib Shabbir Bhatkali, owner of the Biryani House in Abu Dhabi, says that the iconic biryani traces its roots to Bhatkal and is deeply embedded in the culinary traditions of the Nawayath Muslim community.Nawayaths — a unique and influential Muslim group primarily settled in the coastal town of Bhatkal in Uttara Kannada district — are a trading community believed to have Arab–Persian ancestry, with strong cultural and commercial links to the Middle East. For centuries, Bhatkal functioned as an important port town, welcoming traders and sailors from across the seas. This constant movement of people and cultures influenced local food habits, giving rise to a cuisine that is aromatic and rich.“Bhatkalis are known for their warmth and hospitality, and our biryani reflects that spirit. Traditionally prepared for family gatherings, weddings and festive occasions, Bhatkal biryani is meant to be shared, generously served and eaten together,” he says.The traditional Bhatkali dum biryani focuses on quality ingredients and precise technique rather than overpowering spice. “We use high-quality long basmati rice, steamed to perfection; meat or chicken, cut into 2–3 inch portions, preferably with bone; generous use of onions, both sliced and fried into crispy birista; Bhatkali-style ginger-garlic paste; green chillies; tomatoes; whole spices such as cinnamon, cardamom, cloves and bay leaves; saffron infused in milk or rose water; and fresh mint and coriander,” he says. The rice is washed gently and soaked, then boiled in spiced water until just right, never overcooked. The meat is cooked separately with onions, spices and herbs until the moisture evaporates and flavours deepen. Layering is where the magic happens: half the rice is spread over the meat, topped with fried onions, saffron milk, herbs and oil. The remaining rice follows, finished with more aromatics. The pot is sealed airtight and placed on a slow flame for dum.“True to Bhatkal tradition, the biryani is accompanied by raity and kachumber. Raity is a unique chilled accompaniment, a mildly spiced soup made from sweet potato, half-ripe jackfruit and half-ripe papaya, usually prepared one day in advance, and kachumber is a chilli-based pickle with finely chopped onion, tender mango and tomato, finished with a hint of jaggery,” says Ajaib.Sending love from the hillsFor many from Kodagu, what is often loosely called biryani is closer to a pulao — and defiantly so. “We miss the authentic mutton pulao our grandmother used to make,” says Pramitha Achaiah, a consultant who now lives in Bengaluru, recalling a dish that doesn’t follow the Mughal grammar of layered rice and excess ghee. Coorg pulao, she explains, is built differently. The process begins with frying spices along with coconut, grinding them into an aromatic base that defines the dish. The meat — usually mutton — is cooked directly in this masala, allowing the spices and peppercorns to do the heavy lifting. The rice traditionally used is jeerege sanna, short-grain jeera rice variety native to the region, which absorbs flavour rather than sitting as a separate layer.Older versions, she notes, were deeper and darker in colour — “almost black” — a style known locally as erachi pulao, where spice blends and pepper made all the difference. Over time, however, convenience has crept in. “People have stopped grinding coconut, poppy seeds and using jeera rice. Everyone wants simpler, quicker meals now,” she says. Yet, in its original form, Coorg biryani mirrors the landscape it comes from: wild, straightforward, and unapologetically bold, letting spice, meat and memory speak louder than ghee or garnish.“The pulao itself reflects the hills it comes from — rugged, bold and uncomplicated, much like Coorg,” she says. Asked if it wasn’t indeed a biryani, Pramitha quips: “Biryani is the new name. Biryani replaced the pulao just as basmati replaced jeerege sanna!”A Layered Legacy of Flavour and TraditionBiryani, in its simplest form, is often described as a combination of rice and masala, cooked with meat, seafood, or vegetables. However, according to home cook and social worker Khairunnisa Sayed, such a definition barely scratches the surface, especially when it comes to Mangalore biryani, which stands apart with its own identity, technique, and soul. “Mangalore biryani is completely different from Hyderabadi, Kerala, or even Bengaluru biryani. Its uniqueness lies not just in the ingredients, but in the method, the balance of flavours, and the respect for layering,” she says.Unlike the short-grain or medium-grain rice commonly used elsewhere, Mangalore biryani traditionally uses long-grain basmati rice that is soaked well in advance. Once soaked, the rice expands, lending the dish its signature lightness and aroma. In contrast, biryanis prepared in the ghat sections often use sona masoori or gandhasale rice, resulting in a very different texture and flavour profile.Mangalore biryani is also a true dum biryani, where rice and masala are prepared separately and brought together only during the final stage. The dish is assembled layer by layer, interspersed with fried onions (birista), fresh coriander and pudina leaves, and cashew nuts. The vessel is then sealed tightly and slow-cooked on dum, allowing the flavours to marry without being mixed.The masala itself reflects the bold yet balanced nature of coastal cooking. Green chillies play a starring role, sometimes as many as 25 to 30 green chillies for one kilogram of mutton, along with fresh pudina and coriander, ground directly. “The masalas are basic but powerful,” Khairunnisa says. “What matters is patience and knowing when the raw aromas disappear and the oil begins to separate, that’s when the masala is truly ready,” she adds.The rice is parboiled separately with bay leaves, mild garam masala, and pepper, drained when it is about 70 per cent cooked, and then layered over the meat. Saffron may be added for aroma along with turmeric. Food colour is often used in home kitchens. The final layers are finished with herbs, carrots for garnish, and cashews fried in ghee. The proportions, too, are distinctive. For one kilogram of mutton, nearly two kilograms of rice are used, along with carefully measured water, emphasising that Mangalore biryani is all about layers, not mixing.Served with simple raitha made of tomato, onion, and pomegranate seeds, Mangalore biryani is a celebration of technique, and tradition.
