The naan bread came out of the tandoor in Old Delhi while I was still mid sentence with my food walk guide. His name was Salman and he had stopped us in Matia Mahal lane, the narrow alley running east from Jama Masjid, at a stall I would have walked past a hundred times on my own. The whole street smelled like smoke and butter and yeast. I shut up. I ate.
The Stall in Matia Mahal Lane
The baker had his arm halfway down the throat of the tandoor when we arrived, slapping rounds of dough onto the inside wall like he was annoyed at them. They puffed in about forty seconds.
He hooked them out with a long iron rod and threw them on a metal tray, where another man brushed them with melted butter so fast the brush blurred. I paid the equivalent of twenty cents for one. I ate the whole thing standing up before Salman could finish telling me about the next stall on the walk.
What Naan Bread Actually Is, and Isn’t
Here is the part I did not know before that trip. The word naan comes from the Persian nân, which just means bread, and the leavened tandoor baked version we now associate with India travelled east into the subcontinent through Persian and Central Asian routes.
The earliest South Asian mention shows up in the writings of the 14th century Indo Persian poet Amir Khusrau, who wrote about naan e tunuk (thin) and naan e tanuri (tandoor baked). During the Mughal era it was court food. Nobility ate it. Most people did not.
This is also why naan is not the everyday bread in most South Asian homes. That role belongs to roti or chapati, which are unleavened, made on a flat tawa, and not the same thing at all. Naan is enriched with yogurt and milk and ghee, soft and pillowy and chewy and historically a restaurant or special occasion bread. I love both. I am just careful not to call them the same.
It also is not pita, in case anyone asks. Pita is flour, water, yeast, salt, and it forms a hollow pocket. Naan has no pocket. It has pull.
The Napkin My Homestay Host Wrote on
I was staying with a family in a side lane off Daryaganj, about a twenty minute walk from the Matia Mahal stall. The host, Mrs Anwar, made roti at home most nights but kept naan as a Sunday thing because it asked for the pan extra hot and the dough properly rested and her full attention.
When I mentioned the stall over chai, she lit up and grabbed a napkin off the kitchen counter, the one she had been wiping ghee off her fingers with, and wrote her version down for me in Urdu and broken English. Yeast, sugar, warm milk, yogurt, ghee, flour, salt, baking powder. The proportions were in fistfuls and pinches and I had to translate them later at the homestay table. I still have the napkin in a folder somewhere, the grease spots more legible now than the writing.
What I Used
- 3 cups all purpose flour, plus more for dusting
- One packet active dry yeast, about 2 and a quarter teaspoons
- 1 teaspoon sugar
- 3/4 cup warm milk, about 110F
- 1/2 cup plain whole milk yogurt at room temperature
- 1 teaspoon fine sea salt
- 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
- 3 tablespoons melted ghee, plus more for brushing
- 2 tablespoons melted unsalted butter for finishing
I get the ghee and the yogurt at Bharat Bazaar on Pioneer Boulevard in Artesia. The yogurt over there is thicker than what the regular grocery sells and behaves more like Mrs Anwar’s. Everything else comes from the corner shop two blocks from my apartment.
Making Naan Bread on My Cast Iron
Mrs Anwar’s whole point was that you have to wait. The yeast needs ten minutes to wake up in the warm milk and you need to actually look at it and confirm the foam, not just trust the clock. The dough needs a full ninety minutes to double. Each ball needs another ten minutes after shaping or the gluten will fight you when you stretch it and you will end up with tough naan, which is the saddest naan there is.
The dish punishes anyone who tries to rush it. I learned that on attempt two, when I rolled the dough too soon and got back stubborn little ovals that wanted nothing to do with my rolling pin.
My pan is the cast iron skillet that lives on my back burner because it is too heavy to keep moving. I get it screaming hot, no oil, for a full five minutes before the first naan goes in. The trick I picked up at the stall and Mrs Anwar confirmed at home is to brush water on the underside of the dough right before it hits the pan. The water flashes off as steam and lifts the bread the way the moisture inside a clay tandoor does. I cover the pan with a lid for the first thirty seconds. Big bubbles puff up across the top and that is the signal to flip.
Then comes the part that feels a little reckless the first time. Long tongs, no fear. Lift the half cooked naan off the skillet and onto the open flame of the gas burner. Fifteen seconds a side, rotating to chase the char. Deep brown blisters. A few black spots that taste smoky and good, not burnt. If you have an electric stove just leave it in the dry pan and let both sides spot brown, about forty five seconds a side.
The first one always looks worst. I eat it anyway, standing at the counter, brushed with too much butter.
Twists, and What I Skip
For garlic naan I press minced garlic and chopped cilantro into the dough right before it hits the pan. It is the most popular version with people who come over and I get it. The garlic crisps in the dry heat and goes nutty.
I do not bother with bread flour here. All purpose has more give, and Mrs Anwar’s napkin said maida, which is what every Indian baker reaches for anyway. I also keep saying I will buy a tandoor. I never will. The cast iron does enough and the gas burner does the rest.
Naan keeps for about two days wrapped in a clean towel on the counter. If I have leftovers I reheat them directly over the gas flame for ten seconds a side and they almost come back. Almost is the right word. Nothing is ever quite as good as the first one off the pan on a Sunday afternoon, with the napkin from Daryaganj on the counter for company.
Naan Bread
Ingredients
Equipment
Method
- Combine the warm milk and sugar in a small bowl. Sprinkle the yeast over the top and let it sit undisturbed for 8 to 10 minutes, until the surface looks foamy and smells yeasty.
- In a large mixing bowl, whisk together the flour, salt, and baking powder. Make a well in the center and pour in the yeast mixture, yogurt, and 2 tablespoons of the melted ghee.
- Stir with a wooden spoon until a shaggy dough forms, then turn it out onto a lightly floured surface. Knead for 8 to 10 minutes until the dough is smooth, soft, and slightly tacky but not sticky.
- Grease a clean bowl with the remaining tablespoon of ghee, place the dough inside, and turn to coat. Cover with a damp towel and let it rise in a warm spot for 90 minutes, until doubled in size.
- Punch the dough down gently and divide it into 8 equal pieces, about 3 ounces each. Roll each piece into a smooth ball, cover with the towel, and rest for 10 minutes.
- Place a cast iron skillet over high heat for at least 5 minutes, until a drop of water evaporates on contact. Do not add oil.
- Working one at a time, stretch and roll a dough ball into a teardrop shape about 8 inches long and a quarter inch thick. Dust with flour only as needed.
- Lightly brush one side of the naan with water using your fingertips. Lay the wet side down on the hot skillet and cover with a lid for 30 seconds, until large bubbles form across the surface.
- Uncover, then use tongs to flip the naan directly onto the open flame of a gas burner set to medium-high. Char for 15 to 20 seconds per side, rotating until you see deep brown blisters and golden spots. If using an electric stove, leave the naan in the dry skillet and flip until both sides are spotted brown, about 45 seconds per side.
- Transfer the finished naan to a plate and immediately brush with melted butter. Stack the pieces and cover with a clean towel to keep them warm and pliable while you cook the rest. Serve hot.