In a room full of Pakistanis, “I love nihari” is as obvious a statement as “I like pizza” is to some people.
So last March, when “Deli Boys” actor Saagar Shaikh announced during dinner at Ali’s Nihari & BBQ that it was his “absolute favorite dish,” he wasn’t trying to sell creator and Executive Producer Abdullah Saeed, co-star Asif Ali or myself on nihari. We knew. And the rest of the cast of “Deli Boys” knew, because Shaikh kept bringing them to eat it at table 13 at Ali’s Nihari, up front by the glass overlooking the hustle and bustle of Devon Avenue.
Nihari is nihari and it is worthy of obsession. Shaikh was explaining to us the lunacy that kept him coming back to this particular restaurant, to eat this particular nihari, sometimes traveling an hour from a long day of work on set.
At Ali’s Nihari & BBQ, sometimes called Ali Nihari, the dish is made traditionally; a hearty cut of beef braised for hours results in a bowl of fall-apart meat with a punch of umami and spice. The red-orange braising liquid at nihari’s base is finished in the cooking pot with a partial emulsification with flour, ending up perfectly tandoori naan-scoopable. Fresh green chilis, ginger and lemon toppings freshen up each person’s bowl to their taste; modifications with additional bone marrow, brain or ghee infused with a tarka of spices are available as well.
Over the course of several months in early 2024, Shaikh and the rest of the “Deli Boys” cast planted their flag in the ground here at Ali’s Nihari. And this table of three in particular will be planting their flag in scripted TV when the show, what the crew calls a “crimedy,” about two Pakistani American brothers finding the criminal secret underlying their father’s deli empire, debuts March 6 on Hulu.
For Saeed, “Deli Boys” will be his first show as a creator of a scripted series. For Shaikh and Ali, it’s their first starring role on television. It’s perfectly timed for their careers, during a new height of Pakistani storytelling on mainstream TV. The energy at the dinner was one of excitement, ambition and growth. And hunger, of course.
They were wrapping up the season, and that day was perhaps the last chance the two stars and the creator would have to eat at Shaikh’s favorite local restaurant before they all returned home. I joined them. They had done this kind of dinner a half dozen times or more. The banter flowed easily as they talked about the food, the show and the depictions of their communities in American comedy.
“I don’t eat it nearly as often as I like to,” Shaikh said of nihari as he tucked into some using naan and his hands.
Actor Asif Ali, who is of Indian descent and has roots in standup comedy, interjected. “Because it’s heavy as hell!” he said.
During that dinner, Ali favored lighter fare: chicken biryani and bhindi masala. He lightly mixed the okra and rice and meat with his fork.
“(Nihari) takes 8 hours to make!” said Shaikh.
“It sits on you!” replied Ali.
Nihari is the national dish of Pakistan and a celebrated street food in Muslim urban quarters in India and Bangladesh. What started as a Mughal-era breakfast dish for long days of labor transformed into an indulgent celebratory dish for any occasion. After the partition of the Indian subcontinent, eating beef became more associated with the Muslim sides of post-colonialism, so in America, you’re more likely to find nihari at Pakistani or Bangladeshi restaurants, even though the dish is widely popular.
Ali’s Nihari, with its understated red awning and white tablecloths, is building a community reputation as a competitor to the more famous Sabri Nihari down the street. As Shaikh heard it, the rumor was that “Ali” had been the chef at Sabri Nihari since the ’90s but eventually left and started his own restaurant.
“I worked for them for 26 years,” said Ali’s Nihari chef and owner Mohammad Iftikhar, who is originally from Faisalabad, Pakistan. When it came time to open his own restaurant, he named it after himself — many people address him as “Ali Bhai,” using the word for elder brother as a form of respect.
Iftikhar opened Ali’s Nihari in 2021. Its nihari recipe originates from his mother. One specific change is a swap from the typical shank to a chuck tender to reduce the fattiness.
“Nobody beats my nihari,” Iftikhar said.
For the group sitting at table 13 at Ali’s Nihari, each diner fondly remembered particular chefs in their family as their favorite — fathers, mothers and grandmothers. Some of that nostalgia for food came into the writing of the show and the ordering at the table. Saeed took a minced meat seekh kebab and rolled it in a hot paratha with veggies — typically, he keeps it dry and uses achaar to spice it up, but today he experimented with green yogurt chutney. This “roti roll” was like the ones his mother made for him and his brother growing up. In the show, Shaikh and Ali’s characters are fed a roti roll in a tender and complicated moment.
Another traditional South Asian food wormed its way into the plot, too. During the pilot, a container of mango pickle becomes a running visual gag for Saeed and other writers; eventually, it became something fairly central.
“At some point, it dawns on us that the achaar is the smuggling vessel (for cocaine),” Saeed said. “It’s so pungent that if you were a custom agent and a whole pallet of it was going through, you’d probably avoid searching it.”
Like Shaikh, Saeed is of Pakistani descent but split his youth between the U.S. and Thailand. In a former life, Saeed was a drummer in taqwacore punk band The Kominas, a TV show host and a journalist. Before “Deli Boys,” he was most well-known for hosting Vice’s “Bong Appetit,” collaborating with chefs to create weed-infused meals.
As they piled biryani rice and meat onto their plates, a discussion arose about how to grapple with stereotypes of Indian corner store owners. The show, of course, skewers the stereotype in several ways.
Saeed said he worked at a family-owned 7-Eleven during college to earn money to study abroad. “That’s our stereotype to take back.”
“I grew up in a convenience store family,” Shaikh said. He described his father and uncles’ ups and downs with the store. Ali too said he has family members in the industry.
In “Deli Boys,” Shaikh and Ali’s characters, stoner-slacker Raj and buttoned-up Mir, grow up spoiled and raised on the riches of their father’s empire; all of it is taken away from them after the unexpected death of their father, Arshad “Baba” Dar, and the revelation of the fictional deli chain’s role as a drug front.
“These characters are bad guys,” Saeed said. “They’re not innocent or naive.” The three all relish the opportunity to be in a project where South Asian characters can be fully human, not defined by stereotypes and deeply flawed.
The cast also includes Poorna Jagannathan (“Never Have I Ever,” “Ramy”) and Brian George (Babu Bhatt from “Seinfeld”), as well as a guest appearance by Tan France (“Queer Eye”).
“I loved getting to dine with the cast and (executive producers),” France said over email. He favored the vegetables. “I loved the aloo gobi and the paratha’s the most. Just so damn good and hit all the right spots.”
As dinner wrapped up, the boys started making plans for chai or sweets; Saeed said goodbye early as the co-stars walked up Devon Avenue for mithai at Ajwaah Sweets.
They would definitely be back; at least, for the nihari, but Saeed said he also hopes to return for a season 2. Even if the show is set in Philadelphia, he fell in love with Chicago while filming.
“I can’t wait to go back.”
“Deli Boys” releases March 6 on Hulu. Ali’s Nihari & BBQ, 2548 W. Devon Ave., 773-856-0203, alinihari.com
