Dawn, a dusty railway siding outside Varanasi, where for 3,000 years Indian Hindus have performed rites for their dead. Sari'd women loom out of the gloom, shadowy shawled figures huddle patiently, waiting to cross the track, our train shudders and we move off again. Outside, endless fields of yellow mustard, vivid green wheat, toor dhal and chana (chickpea). Early morning mist clings to the crops.

A few hours later, we are in the sacred city. Only feet from the Ganges and the ghat where last year he cremated his father, chef Vivek Singh is taking over Manoj Yadav's Sankatha Cafe for his own Cinnamon Club-style sabji – a winter vegetable curry with puffed fried bread (the cafe's usual offering comes with a brimming leaf bowl, puri and a sweet for 10 rupees: 12p). We shop from one of many market stalls a few feet away – bright white gobi (cauliflower), aloo (potatoes), mattar (peas), tomatoes, green chillies, carrots, coriander. The mustard oil we will be cooking with comes in a tiny clear plastic bag; small packets of spice wrapped in newspaper are bought by the day. No point in storing anything when space and money are in short supply.

A few quizzical words and notes are exchanged and we are in business. Vegetables are quickly washed and chopped. The cafe's own knife, a deadly sharpened-down hacksaw, is discarded in place of the chef's one "luxury item": an exquisitely beaten Samurai steel blade. Peas are podded, ginger and onions finely sliced, vermilion carrots and cauliflower diced. Peelings and other waste are fed to a wandering cow waiting patiently outside.

The kadai (an Indian wok) sits on a blackened oil can of coals kept blazing with a frantic electric fan at its open base. Vivek checks for temperature the traditional tandoor way – holding his forearm over the heat like a concerned parent checking a child's bath. Whole spices are added, then the powders: scarlet chilli, cumin, coriander and turmeric of an astonishing orange, more like poster paint than the ochre yellow we are used to. Water is added, rock salt; he stirs, tastes, adds more salt and spice, stirs again, tastes. Finally, chef satisfied, the pot is covered with a lid.

Next, he rolls and rounds out the fermented dough, flat and fast. Vivek used to make 5,000 puris a day for Oberoi's international flight operation. He expertly spins the discs into the boiling, smoking oil – no gas regulator here, the only option burning hot. The breads are turned quickly a couple of times, puffed and browned, then laid into leaf bowls to be served with the sabji. The cafe's young cook (perhaps 12), happily chewing tobacco, looks on, unconvinced by Vivek's London-style lunch, and bullies a smaller boy into trying it. A lady beggar with an infant child, though, is pleased to be offered. She squats, eats quickly, urgently, smiles and comes back for seconds. Vivek's cousin, who lives in Varanasi, pronounces it "very tasty". The photographer, Howard, and I join the baby's mother in asking for more. This is simple, clever cooking: fresh, fragrant and subtly spiced.

More smiles and notes are exchanged and an hour after we arrived, we leave. The Ganges flows. The boys return to their 10 rupee puris and this busy corner of the ancient city returns to normal (well, as normal as a town where people pray to die and a stream of wrapped corpses is carried through the streets to be burnt on open pyres ever can).

Next, we are back on board our super-luxe Maharajas' Express train to Lucknow, home of Avadhi cuisine, a complex marriage of Mughlai and Hindu cooking favoured by the Nawabs of the city. We are on a pilgrimage to the best kebab cafe in India. Tunday's shop, in the sprawling Aminabad bazaar, is run by the grandson of one-armed Tunday, creator of the Galawat Ke kebab. Here, they serve various kormas and biryanis, but it is the smoothness of the ground lamb kebab that everyone fights for – witness the anxious queues here compared to the mostly empty neighbouring stalls. Meat sizzles in its bubbling fat on a huge flat pan in the burning sun.

In the corner, a heavily sweating cook is spinning a constant stream of fine, fluffy "handkerchief" naans over an upturned kadai. Hungry, we head inside for food, cool and shade. Grandson Tunday's kebabs are not subtly spiced but are brilliantly balanced: creamy, fiery meat, heavily spiked with pepper. We gorge on lamb and beef kebabs, intense, fatty, bony, mutton kormas and more breads than anyone can eat washed down with Pepsi (about £7 for five people, and most of that is the cola). Cooking of this class confirms the traveller's rule: that the darkest, dingiest, even dirtiest places almost always serve the best food.

That evening we dine at the fabulous house of a famous Indian film director and his uber-glamorous wife. Here the people, kebabs and pulaos are more refined but somehow lacking the vitality we find on the streets.

Our final train destination is Delhi, in search of the food lover's holy grail: "number one" Kashmiri saffron, the finest in the world. Vivek meets with his spice supplier and old friend Punit Kothari. But first, more food. As Punit says: "If chef cannot come to lunch, then lunch must come to him."

Punit commandeers the boot of a car and lays out a feast: his wife's finest stuffed spinach and cauliflower parathas with tangy buffalo curd, and homemade sugary sweets. We stand and savour them in the midst of the turmoil of Old Delhi's spice market. Teeming pavements five people thick, packed pedal rickshaws (there is no room for cars in the bustling lanes of Khari Baoli), porters shrugging off metre-high piles of boxes carried on their heads, others straining with ancient barrows stacked to the sky with sacks of spice. The air is thick with throat-closing cumin.

Vivek arranges for a supply of dried wild Afghan fungus, the mushrooms he can get in London "too weak and watery" for his needs. In the dark, choking passageways, we pass specialist stalls selling sulphurous Himalayan salt, water chestnut flour to bypass Brahmin rules on fasting, tree moss for boosting the flavour of a biryani, and a raisin said to boost the effects of bang (marijuana). My eyes and nose stream by the Rajasthan chilli stalls, the most brilliantly coloured you'll ever see, but too hot for western taste, warns chef. I stock up on fresh fenugreek leaf, which Vivek says is vital for butter chicken. We scoff exquisite mango kulfi that comes in polka- dot-painted terracotta pots. Finally, pockets stuffed with saffron courtesy of Punit, we head to our hotel and the long, late flight home. Vivek is off to visit his mother in Madhya Pradesh. 2011 signals 10 years of success with his award- winning Cinnamon Club. Mr Singh Sr would have been proud.

OFM travelled on the Maharajas' Express with India specialist Cox & Kings (020 7873 5000; coxandkings.co.uk). The 11-day Classical India itinerary, including four nights at the Leela New Delhi, is priced from £5,725 per person.

Vivek Singh is executive chef at the Cinnamon Club, The Old Westminster Library, 30-32 Great Smith Street, London SW1P 3BU; 020 7222 2555, cinnamonclub.com

VEGETABLE CURRY

This humble vegetable curry is cooked in almost every household in northern India and comes in many guises – made with turnips instead of the vegetables listed below, or served with lots of sauce to accompany rice.

SERVES 4

vegetable or corn oil 3 tbsp
bay leaf 1
green cardamom pods 4
cumin seeds 1 tsp
onions 3, finely chopped
large potato 1, washed, peeled and cut into 1cm dice
carrots 2, peeled and cut into 1cm dice
ripe tomatoes 3, blended to a purée or very finely chopped
fresh ginger 2.5cm piece, finely chopped
green chillies 2, cut lengthwise in ½
ground turmeric ½ tsp
red chilli powder ½ tsp
ground cumin 1 tsp
ground coriander 1 tsp
salt 2 tsp
cauliflower 200g, cut into 2cm florets
peas 200g
water 250ml
lemon juice of 1
fresh coriander and/or dill 2 tbsp, chopped

Heat the oil in a heavy-based pan, add the bay leaf, cardamom pods and cumin seeds and let them crackle. Add the chopped onions and cook over a fairly high heat until light golden brown. Now add the potato and carrots and stir for a couple of minutes. Stir in the puréed tomatoes, ginger, green chillies, spices and salt and cook for 8-10 minutes, until the oil begins to separate from the mixture at the sides of the pan. Add the cauliflower and cook, stirring, for 2 minutes, then add the peas and cook for 3 minutes. Pour in the water and cook till the vegetables are tender but still retain a little bite. Check the seasoning, then stir in the lemon juice and sprinkle with the chopped herbs. Serve hot with chapatis or puris.

SHANAJ MADHAVAN'S PANCHMAEL YELLOW DHAL

Inspired by chef Madhavan's delicious dhal served on the Maharajas' Express. Panchmael means mix of five. A mixed lentil dish can be made up of as many as five different types, but the three easily available in supermarkets and health food stores are red (masoor), moong and chana. A visit to an Asian store is worth the excursion for the others but not entirely necessary.

SERVES 4

split yellow moong lentils 2 tbsp
toor dhal (yellow gram) 4 tbsp
split chana dhal 1 tbsp
split white urad lentils 1 tbsp
red split lentils 2 tbsp
water to boil 700ml
ground turmeric ½ tsp
salt 1½ tsp
ghee 2 tbsp
onion 1 large, chopped fine
red chilli powder ½ tsp
garam masala powder 1 tsp
tomato 1, chopped
fresh coriander 1 tbsp, chopped
lemon a squeeze of juice

For the tadka (finish):
ghee 1 tbsp
whole red chilli 1
whole cumin seeds ½ tsp
cloves 4
garlic cloves 2, finely chopped

First boil the lentils. To boil the lentils, mix them all together, wash under running water and soak for 20 minutes and boil with ¼ tsp turmeric (half the quantity) and 1 tsp salt. Take out the white froth (scum) as and when it rises or whenever necessary, then cover and simmer on a low heat. Cook the lentils till all are well mashed except for the chana dhal. This should take 20-25 minutes.

Heat 2 tbsp of ghee in a frying pan and when hot add the onions, and when they turn golden brown add the dry spices and ½ tsp salt and sauté for a minute, then add the tomato and cook till soft. Pour the onion and spices on the lentils, and bring the broth to the boil. If the lentils begin to thicken, add some boiling water and keep stirring to ensure they don't stick to the bottom of the pan. Finish the lentils with the fresh coriander and some lemon juice.

To temper: heat the 1 tbsp ghee in a ladle till smoking point. Now add the whole red chilli, cumin seeds, cloves and garlic in that order and in quick succession, and as the garlic begins to turn golden, pour the contents of the ladle over the dhal and cover the pan with a lid. Leave covered for 2 minutes and let the smoke and flavours get absorbed in the lentils. Remove the lid, stir and serve immediately.

LUCKNOW TUNDAY KEBAB

Tunday's tender kebab is famed for its melt-in-the mouth texture, due to the use of large quantities of raw papaya or pineapple to tenderise the meat, essentially to mask the poor quality of lamb or mutton. If you are using good-quality lamb, you want to enjoy the textures, and this recipe lets you do that. Mince it three more times and you have a really tender version, and blended another 10 times makes it a pâté you can simply serve over brioche!

For the ginger-garlic paste:
ginger 5-6cm knob, skin scraped
garlic cloves 4-5, peeled

For the cashew nut paste:
dried onions, fried (available in supermarkets, although may use 4 tbsp of crisp, fried onions) 4 tbsp
cashew nut paste, fried 2 tbsp

For the spice mix:
cloves 8
cumin ½ tsp, roasted and cooled
green cardamom 4
blade of mace 1
black cardamom seeds of 1
black peppercorns ½ tsp
nutmeg ⅛
cloves 8

lean lamb from leg 500g, minced
ginger-garlic paste (see above) 3 tbsp
red chilli powder 1½ tbsp
ghee 3 tbsp, melted
saffron 1 pinch, soaked in 2 tbsp water
fresh pineapple juice 1 tsp
salt 1½ tsp 
dried onions, fried 4 tbsp
fried cashew nut paste, fried (see below) 2 tbsp
rose blossom or kewra water (or screw pine essence – available in most good Asian stores) 4 drops
ghee to shallow-fry 

To make the ginger-garlic paste, blitz garlic and ginger with water or vegetable oil to make a smooth paste, either in a blender or mortar-pestle. This will keep a week in the fridge – longer if made with oil.

To make the cashew nut paste, mix together the fried onions and cashew nuts and blend, using a little water, to make a smooth paste in a food processor.

To make the spice mix, use 2 cloves (keep aside 6 cloves) and mix together all the other spices and grind them to a fine powder in a pestle and mortar.

Heat 2 tbsp of ghee in a small pan or ladle and add the 6 cloves. Let them pop for around 30 seconds to release their flavours, then remove from heat/fire and let cool.

Take the minced lamb in a mixing bowl, add the spice mix and all the other ingredients into it – except the remaining tbsp of ghee, and the rose or kewra water – and mix well. Add the clove-infused ghee into the mince and chill the mix for 10 minutes.

Take the chilled mince and add the remaining tbsp of ghee, and the rose or kewra water, mix thoroughly and refrigerate again to chill.

Shape the meat into patties of about 40-50g each and 4cm in diameter. Heat the ghee for shallow frying in a heavy-based frying pan and shallow-fry the patties over a low heat for about 1-2 minutes on each side until they are well cooked. Remove from the pan and place on kitchen paper to get rid of the excess fat.

Serve hot with sheermal.

SHEERMAL

This rich and flavoursome bread is a speciality in Lucknow and most Mughal courts all over India. Originally made in iron tandoors, this version comes out just as well from an oven.

The trick is in incorporating the ghee into the dough slowly by adding a little at a time, so that the fat is dispersed evenly through the dough.

MAKES 16 BREADS

milk 400ml  
sugar 3 tbsp
rose blossom or kewra water (or screw pine essence – available in most good Asian stores) 1 drop
salt 1½ tsp
plain flour 450g
melon seeds 1 tbsp
green cardamom ½ tsp ground
baking powder (optional) 1 pinch
ghee 120g, melted
poppy seeds 1 tsp
saffron 2 pinches, dissolved in 1 tbsp of water
ghee 2 tbsp melted for brushing 

Heat the milk, add the sugar and stir till it dissolves completely. Add the rose or kewra water and remove from the heat/fire. When it is cooled, add the salt.

Put the flour in a mixing bowl, add the melon seeds, green cardamom, baking powder and milk mixture and mix well. Knead into a very soft dough. Cover with a moist cloth and keep aside for at least 15 minutes.

Remove the cloth and knead the dough again. Add the ghee into the dough, little by little, and incorporate it using your fingers. Store it in cool place again for 15 minutes, allowing it to firm up. 

Divide the dough equally into balls of about 50g in weight. Cover and chill for another 10 minutes in the refrigerator. Roll out the ball into 10cm round discs approximately ¼cm thick and dock all over with a fork. Arrange them on a greased baking tray, sprinkle with poppy seeds on top and bake in an oven preheated to 180C/gas mark 4 for 10 minutes. Remove, brush with saffron solution and bake again for 5 minutes. Serve immediately brushed with melted ghee. 

SEARED HALIBUT FILLET WITH BENGALI-STYLE MUSTARD SAUCE

A deconstruction of a dopiaza that we use at the Cinnamon Club.

SERVES 4

For the mustard sauce:
mustard oil 2 tbsp
bay leaf 1
black onion seeds ½ tsp
fennel seeds ½ tsp
onion 1, finely sliced
ginger-garlic paste 1 tsp using 2.5cm piece of ginger and 1 clove garlic, grated on a microplane, or use chopped ginger and chopped garlic
red chilli powder ½ tsp
ground turmeric ½ tsp
tomato 1, finely chopped
wholegrain mustard 2 tbsp
fish stock or water 500ml
green chillies 3 slit lengthwise in ½
salt 1 tsp
sugar ½ tsp
garam masala ¼ tsp
fresh coriander 1 tbsp, chopped
coconut milk 240ml

For the marinade:
black onion seeds ½ tsp
fennel seeds ½ tsp
dried red chilli 1, coarsely crushed
vegetable or corn oil 1 tbsp
salt 1 tsp
thick halibut fillet (or pollock or other firm white fish) 4 x 180g pieces
vegetable or corn oil 1 tbsp
pressed rice flakes (pawa) 2 tbsp

To garnish:
ghee or butter 2 tsp
red onion 1, cut into rings
black onion seeds a pinch
salt a pinch
lemon juice of ½

First make the mustard sauce. Heat the oil in a heavy-based pan, add the bay leaf, onion seeds and fennel seeds, then quickly add the onion. Sauté until the onion is golden brown, then add the ginger and garlic paste, chilli powder and turmeric. Stir-fry over a medium heat for 3-4 minutes, then add the tomato and cook for 4-5 minutes, stirring frequently so the mixture doesn't stick to the bottom of the pan. Add the mustard and cook over a medium heat for 3 minutes. Now pour in the stock or water and bring to a simmer.

Add the green chillies, salt, sugar, garam masala and coriander, then add coconut milk, cover the pan and simmer for 2-3 minutes. Check the seasoning, remove from heat and set aside.

Mix together all the ingredients for the marinade, rub them over the fish and set aside for 10-15 minutes. To cook the fish, heat the oil in a large ovenproof frying pan, add the halibut, skin-side down, and sear for 3-4 minutes. Turn and sear the other side for 2 minutes, then transfer the pan to an oven preheated to 200C/gas mark 6 for 6-8 minutes, until the fish is just cooked. Sprinkle with pressed rice flakes (pawa) and serve immediately.

Meanwhile, for the garnish, heat the ghee or butter in a frying pan, add the onion rings and cook, stirring constantly, until tender and well browned. Sprinkle with the black onion seeds and salt and drizzle with the lemon juice.

To serve, pour the sauce on to 4 deep plates, place the fish on top and garnish with the onion rings.

AGRA YAKHNI PULAO

The Mughal influence on northern India can be easily seen in this recipe, which is quite similar to some cooked in Kashmir and Lucknow.

SERVES 4

For the yakhni (stock):
lamb chops 12
corn oil 2 tbsp
onion 1, medium, sliced
water or lamb stock 1 litre
salt 1 tsp
natural yoghurt 100ml, whisked
milk 100ml

For the bouquet garni:
green cardamom 3
black cardamom 2
bay leaves 2
cinnamon stick 2.5cm long
cloves 5
whole peppercorns 1 tsp
ginger 1cm long, crushed
whole garlic 3, crushed

For the pulao:
basmati rice 200g
ghee 3 tbsp
bay leaf 2
green cardamom 3
mace 2
onion 1 medium, sliced
aromatic garam masala powder ½ tsp
rose blossom water, optional a few drops
kewra water or screw pine essence, optional (available in most good Asian stores) a few drops
fresh pomegranate ½, seeded to garnish

To make the yakhni, wash the lamb chops well in cold water, making sure there is no blood.

In a piece of muslin, tie all the whole spices, ginger and garlic to make a bouquet garni.

Take a stock pot, heat the ghee and cook the onion till translucent, then add the lamb chops and sear them. Now cover with water/stock and the bouquet garni, salt and simmer for 15 minutes on low flame. Whisk in the yoghurt and milk and simmer further for 10 minutes and set aside.

Take the lamb chops from the stock and keep aside. Strain the yakhni, squeezing the bouquet garni to extract maximum flavour. (Make sure you have at least 500ml of stock; if you have less, make it up by adding more stock.)

To make the pulao, wash the rice in running water 3 to 4 times and soak in warm water for 15 minutes. Drain the water and reserve the soaked rice.

In a thick-bottomed pan, heat 2 tbsp ghee, add the whole spices, and when crackling add the onion and fry till golden. Reserve some for garnish.

Add the drained rice and sweat slowly without breaking the grains. Mix in the onions and spices thoroughly for a couple of minutes, then add the cooked lamb chops.

Add the stock and bring to the boil. When the stock is almost absorbed (approximately 8 minutes), sprinkle the garam masala and spoon 1 tbsp of ghee over the rice, and sprinkle with rose water or screw pine essence, if using. Reduce the flame and cover the pan with a tight lid and cook for another 5 minutes – or alternatively finish it in an oven at 180C/gas mark 4 for 8-10 minutes.

Rest the pulao for another 5 minutes, and garnish with fried onions and fresh pomegranate seeds strewn like jewels.