It was 10:30 pm. I sat on the steps of the Darbangha Ghat in Varanasi, knees to my chest, eyes on the waves, thoughts colliding. The moonlit Ganges flowed before me; behind, the Brijrama Palace stood in all its might.
I had just returned from a ghat-to-ghat walk to the Manikarnika Ghat, a place that encapsulates Banaras’s ironies. It was as much about experiencing the burning ghats under the blanket of darkness as it was about easing the tummy.
The shift from the warmth of the meal to the emotional appeal of the ghat gave my journey a contemplative rhythm.
Brijrama Palace is one of Varanasi’s most stunning and sought-after properties. Built by Sridhar Narayan Munshi in 1812, it was gifted to King Rameshwar Singh Bahadur of Darbangha in 1915. Later, Babu Brijpal Das acquired and transformed it over the course of 18 years into its present form.
Every corner, including the walls, frescoes, ceilings, and even the restaurant’s menu, is a celebration of the events and people who shaped the palace and its history.
Aangan’s menu is a culinary ode to Brijrama’s three celestial guardians: Narayan Munshi, the Darbangha royals, and Babu Brijpal Das. With each course offering a lyrical journey through time.
Step Into Aangan: A Place Where Music, Food, And History Blend On Your Plate
True to its name, Aangan is laid out around one of the courtyards at the Brijrama Palace. Once the king’s stage for cultural performances, it now serves Varanasi’s finest vegetarian fare in a fine-dining setting, courtesy of Chef Devansh and his team.
A large, cylindrical, metal chandelier engraved with a Sanskrit shlok seized my attention as soon as I entered. My eyes followed the shlok. To be struck by the walls and ceilings, twinkling and gleaming with thikri work.
Elevating the experience was Amrendra ji, who sat in another corner, stirring notes on his sitar. It reminded me that Banaras is the city of music, where every sight is a symbol and every sound a song. My mind went back to Bismillah Khan, who first played his shehnai in the corridors of the Kashi Vishwanath Temple, and to sitar maestro Pandit Ravi Shankar, a true son of the land.
I was already impressed (mind you, the food hadn’t arrived yet). And with those thoughts, I took my spot, all set for the culinary rendition that was to take place before me. My server, Soniya, arrived with the first course. It was tucked and sealed inside an intricately carved wooden box.
A Menu That Gives You A Peek Of The Past: One Course At A Time
I opened it to find a large kalachakra-shaped achappam, a crisp, savoury cracker, which was used here as an amuse-bouche. The dish combined the achappam’s light crunch with a subtly sweet filling, celebrating Sridhar Narayan Munshi’s fascination with celestial patterns. The balanced sweetness and delicate texture made me want to call for another portion. Instead, I closed the box and turned to Soniya, who was ready to move to the next course.
Another favourite was their version of ceviche, which arrived as the third course. The dish featured soft coconut chunks, infused with jasmine oil and lemon, laid in a betel leaf broth. I was hesitant at first, unsure how the jasmine fragrance, coconut chunks, and paan flavour would combine. Surprisingly, it turned out to be one of my favourite courses. Simple yet flavourful. Chef Devansh incorporated Banaras’s love for paan in this dish.
The next three courses were dedicated to King Rameshwar Singh Bahadur of Darbangha. A preparation that stood true to Bahadur’s origins was the hearty main course that arrived at number six. It featured potatoes, carrots, and cauliflower plated in a pool of spice-infused, rich buttermilk curry. The dish was paired with a basket of breads— a laccha parantha, phulka, and a sheermal roti (a sweet flatbread made with flour, milk, ghee, and flavoured with saffron and cardamom).
It was the smokiness of the vegetables and the spice mix in the curry that tied it all together. At first, the preparation confused me. Upon Chef Devansh’s instruction, I plucked a bite of my lachcha parantha and dipped it into the curry, instantly becoming a fan. He told me that he uses panch phoron (literally meaning five spices), a whole spice mix that is quite prevalent in Bihari kitchens.
I was left undisturbed for the next ten minutes. Result: An empty bread basket. I lifted my head and instantly turned to Chef Devansh, asking him for the sheermal roti recipe. “Every time you crave it, you must come to Aangan, rather than making it at home,” he laughed. However, he was kind enough to share his recipe as well.
By this time, I knew we were nearing the dessert courses. And I am a child in a candy shop when it comes to desserts. I must ask you, the readers, something— do you believe that first impressions are the last impressions?
Well, if you ask me, my belief in this statement is conditional. If you are talking about food, then the last impression— the dessert— is my final impression. And nothing came close to the sweet interlude at Aangan.
The eighth course featured a luscious siphon malaiyo—a modern take on the traditional winter sweet dish, prepared and served in various parts of Uttar Pradesh, including Varanasi. I scooped from the earthen sikora. Each bite felt like I was gulping down saffron-infused clouds. The dessert is a tribute to Babu Brijpal Das, who enjoyed it under the quietude of winter nights.
A crisp pista tuile topped the airy malaiyo. While it mainly added a crunchy texture to the dessert, it didn’t impart much flavour, though it was enjoyable to nibble on its own.
As if that wasn’t enough, Soniya arrived with yet another culinary masterpiece. For me, the genius was in my nostrils; it smelled as lovely as it looked and tasted. The rasmalai tres leches at Aangan featured soft, khoya-enriched cake soaked in saffron-infused, sweet ras, adorned with dried rose petals, and topped with a sweet jaggery-based jelly. Each element combined to create a delicious performance.
Beyond the flavours and Chef Devansh’s creativity, the beauty of Aangan’s menu is how it stands true to the history of the magnificient palace and city it is housed in. As one course gave way to the next, my co-diners changed did too. I lapped up the mallaiyo with Shridhar Narayan Munshi and enjoyed the sheermal roti with Rameshwar Singh Bahadur. And it was enjoyable. If you are in Banaras, a dinner at Aangan is a must. If I had to plan it for you, I would recommend you attend the evening Ganga aarti at the Dashashamev Ghat and straight head to Brijrama Palace, that is only two ghats away. Enjoy and thank me later!
