Zarina Jafferji is a member of the Dawoodi Bohra community in London, originally from Zanzibar, Tanzania. With a lifelong passion for food, she blends her Zanzibari roots with global influences, creating a unique culinary style. She celebrated this fusion in her first cookbook, A Taste of Zanzibar, and more recently, in A Taste of Tradition, which focuses on the rich and diverse cuisine of the Bohra community. In this blog, she talks about her culinary journey and how she fuses distinct gastronomical traditions onto one plate.
Growing up in Stone Town, Zanzibar was like living in a sensory haven. The bustling market scene, the aromas of spices, and the street-side sounds of sizzling delicacies deeply shaped my love for cooking. Zanzibar’s mix of Arab, African, Indian, and Persian cultures infused its cuisine — making it rich, multi-layered, and unique. That diversity gave me a foundation for my cooking.
As a young girl, I was always fascinated by the way meals brought people together. At family gatherings, food was always the centrepiece of every celebration.
I often helped my mother in the kitchen, observing how she transformed simple ingredients into extraordinary dishes. She was my first and finest teacher, a true culinary artist, effortlessly combining traditional Bohra dishes with Zanzibari flair. I learned from her that good taste is a byproduct but the goal for any cook should be to foster love, generosity, and creativity. Her meticulous approach and passion for presentation left a lasting impression on me.
Stepping into a living recipe book
When I moved to the UK in the early 1960s, I met fellow Bohras from India, Pakistan, East Africa, the Middle East, and beyond. Each family brought their own unique culinary traditions to the table. It felt like stepping into a living recipe book. I learned how dishes could differ slightly by region, and how food could be adapted without losing authenticity.
A great example is biryani, a dish that exists across so many cultures. Growing up in Zanzibar, biryani was a dish reserved for celebration. Ours carried the flavours of the coast — rice and meat cooked separately, then layered over a rich coconut-based sauce infused with cloves, cinnamon, and cardamom. The slow-cooked meat gave it depth, and it was always served with pickled mango or kachumbari, the bright tomato-onion salad that cut through the richness.
Bohra biryani is a little different, but no less authentic. The meat is typically marinated in spiced yogurt and cooked together with the rice using the traditional dum method — a slow-cooking technique in which the pot is tightly sealed, allowing the steam to circulate and infuse every grain with flavour. Fried onions and warm spices like garam masala — usually a mix of cloves, cinnamon, cardamom, cumin, and black pepper — give it a richer flavor, and some versions add a touch of sweetness from dried fruits. The layering is more defined, and the aroma is mouth-watering.
These differences point to a wider feature of East African coastal cooking, where the cuisine often makes generous use of coconut cream. In Zanzibar, even everyday vegetable dishes like bhaji (spinach), are cooked with coconut cream and sometimes even peanut butter.
These variations are not not a matter of right or wrong; they are expressions of place and culture. Each biryani is authentic to the community who makes it, just as coastal dishes evolve with local tastes while still holding on to their original spirit.
Over time, I’ve found myself naturally combining elements of both Zanzibari and Bohra cooking as a result of growing up around both. On one side, there’s the coastal kitchen filled with the aroma of cloves, coconut milk, and grilled meats; the other, the chutneys, kebabs, and rich spices of Bohra meals. It makes sense that these influences eventually start to come together.
It’s evident in how I make kuku paka, the iconic coastal chicken dish. Traditionally, it features grilled chicken simmered in a coconut milk sauce with curry leaves, garlic, and green chilli. I began marinating the chicken first in a Bohra-style green chutney of coriander, mint, garlic, and lemon. That single step adds a fresh, herb-forward kick while still keeping the soul of the dish intact.
It’s not about reinventing tradition; it’s about letting both influences exist on the same plate in a way that feels honest and true to my experience.
The cultural aspect
Wherever I’ve travelled, whether in India, Egypt, or Europe, I’ve learned from those around me — chefs, street vendors, and home cooks alike. I’ve attended cooking workshops, experimented endlessly, and merged techniques from different cultures into my own style. Every recipe tells a story of connection.