Ascending God's Rooftop Pt 3: Giani da Dhaba
No road trip through Northern India would be complete without a pit stop at a local dhaba, the fulcrum of every day life.
Ascending God's Rooftop is a multi-part series about my recent travels to India, particularly Himachal Pradesh. Here, I talk about dhabas, their origin and role in Indian cuisine. We stopped into the popular local haunt, Giani da Dhaba, on the outskirts of Kasauli.
It was a short trip to Kasauli, truncated by one airline cancellation after another. We spent as much time getting here as we did wandering its hills. On the drive to Kasauli—a mere 48 hours earlier—I spotted a dhaba buttressed into the hillside. I hoped to find one during this trip and spied a few littered around this area during light research.
Dhabas are roadside restaurants typically found along highways on the outskirts of towns and cities in India and Pakistan. Dhabas stem from pre-independence India, particularly along the famed Grand Trunk Road (GT Road), one of South Asia's longest highways. These trade routes spanned Afghanistan and Pakistan, weaving through northern India—a lifeline for moving goods, armies, and people for over 2500 years.
They are worlds away from fine dining and Instagram’s contrived veneer. Dhabas are rustic, dishing out hearty portions of casual, home-style cooking. Sign me up.
Where there are people, there is food.
Dhabas emerged catering to truck drivers, travelers, and local workers—people looking for inexpensive, filling meals to satiate the weary looking to rest. North India and Punjab are famed for their dhabas, but now you will find them throughout India. They occupy a fondness in modern culture—often family-owned, approachable culinary landmarks.
I first learned about dhabas in Christine Manfield’s Tasting India:
“Another time, I explored the most rural areas, driving north-west from Chandigarh through the Punjab to Amritsar along the famous GT (Grand Trunk) Road… food stops along the way became an event…and the dhabas and vendors along the way are frequented by truck drivers—which I’ve learned equates to good food. I always ask my drivers to take me to where they eat and I have never been let down once.”
Giana da Dhaba would fulfil my desires—a modern dhaba by traditional standards, but light years away from what many will know in Dubai.
The open dining room is a utilitarian canteen freed from precious mod cons save for furiously spinning ceiling fans. It’s bare grey with steel chairs and a small sink in the corner for washing your hands. I smile, remembering similar places in Trinidad.
Long before you enter, the semi-outdoor kitchen wafts smoke and aromas that tell of the delicious things seared in woks over fire and breads scorched in tandoors. At first blush, you might believe this kitchen is held together by spit and duct tape, but this is a military operation run by generals armed with aprons and sandals.
Steel surfaces, stacked handis (copper pots), and other kitchen detritus are primed to punch out stacks of silky dal makhani (INR 160) and hot garlic naan (INR 70) chased down with lime soda—order a salty one (INR 60). Anyone who can pass up the deep satisfaction that only butter naan can bring possesses an inner strength I shall never know.
I am told that Giani da Dhaba is a well-known pit-stop for travellers en route to Kasauli and Shimla. Also, the famous Bollywood actor Amitabh Bachchan stops at Giani da Dhaba—an implicit endorsement.
Our menu reflects the heartier fare of Northern India, but a local dhaba will tell you what the people of the region eat. In Rajasthan, expect ker sangria (vegetarian dried berries and beans) and gatte ki sabzi (chickpea dumplings in yoghurt), together with more challenging chilli-laced curries. Maharashtrian dhabas may offer up poha (a flattened rice) and misal pav—an usal curry (sprouts) jewelled with onions and farsan (snack mix), and served with rotund, buttery pavs (Indian bread rolls).
My travel partner, Varsha, is of the vegetarian persuasion, which, I have learned over the years, is a wise choice for a foreign traveller on a sojourn through India. We overlook the princely keema mutton Amritsari (INR 480), egg bhurji (INR 70) for two eggs, and butter chicken (INR 350 for half, 600 for the full monty).
Today, we nibble on Giana da Dhaba’s vegetarian dishes at the foothills of India’s Himalayas. Simple, tasty plates of mixed vegetable pakoras fried to irregular, unrecognisable shapes, amusing us as we guessed the contents entombed within a crunchy, golden brown gram flour batter (INR 90). Some gobi (cauliflower), some pyaaz (onion). Each pelted with a liberal dusting of chaat masala. All good.
Next come crisp sheets of Amritsari Kulcha stuffed with mashed and boiled potatoes. Fresh from the tandoor, it’s soft, warm to the touch and deliciously singed with black patches around the crust (INR 70). The rising heat of green chillies is offset with heaped spoons of sprightly achaar (Indian pickle) and rounds of that green water stained by coriander and mint that I would wear as a day cologne if given half the chance.
We pay up before the owner—a man wearing a turban and a confident moustache. Cash only. He looks like he’s seen it all. We set off back to Chandigarh and onwards to Dubai.
It’s all good, honest grub here. Is it the best I’ll ever have? Does that matter? As much as I loved our stay at the Daleside Manor and the audacity of NAAR—and I really loved NAAR—there will always be a place in my heart for these corners of the Earth. You learn more here. And there’s chutney.
Giani Da Dhaba, Dharampur, Himachal Pradesh 173209, India. +919816022066.
Liam is a restaurant critic, food and travel writer based in the Middle East. He owns EatGoSee and contributes to other publications. You can follow Liam on Substack, Instagram, Threads and Bluesky.
I really cracked up imagining you wearing mint & coriander chutney as your cologne, ha ha ha!!
Oh, that I could download this food at this exact moment. Looks delicious!