In the winding alleys of Yahiya Ganj, Lucknow, amidst the chaos of chai stalls and cycle bells, you can still hear the music of a fading craft — the sharp clang of hammer meeting copper. It’s here that Munna Kalai, one of the city’s last remaining kalaiwalas, quietly tends to a centuries-old tradition: the art of kalai.
Kalai — the process of tinning copper and brass utensils — once played a vital role in Indian kitchens. It’s more than a preservation technique. It’s a ritual. A bridge between generations. A memory etched into the very metal of our homes. “Pressure cookers and non-stick wares have replaced copper. We hardly get work like the old days,” says Munna, his palms darkened by soot and time, each wrinkle holding a story.
At Bawarchi Khana, we believe food is not just sustenance — it’s heritage. And just as recipes are passed down like heirlooms, so too should the tools that honor them. Copper utensils, when lined with kalai, heat evenly and impart a unique flavor to food that no non-stick pan can replicate. It’s the warmth of daadi’s dal, the slow-cooked magic of a Sunday curry, the taste that lingers long after the meal is over.
But today, the shine of copper is dulled by modernity. Convenience wins over character. In many homes, these vessels now sit as decorative pieces — polished but unused, admired but forgotten.
Yet, in hotel kitchens and a few conscious homes, the revival has quietly begun. Chefs swear by the flavors, and wellness experts are rediscovering the health benefits. But for the kalaiwalas like Munna, survival hinges not on nostalgia but demand.
The art of kalai deserves more than to fade into memory. It deserves to be cooked with, cared for, and continued.
So next time you simmer your favorite curry, ask yourself: what stories are your utensils telling?
At Bawarchi Khana, we cook with soul, and we honor the hands that shaped it — copper, fire, and the will to preserve tradition.