I hate to be “that neighbor,” but when your dogs have been howling like they’re reenacting a Sarah McLachlan ASPCA commercial for three straight nights because you went on a “quick weekend getaway” and left them outside in coyote territory like you’re filming Survivor: Backyard Edition? Oh honey. I will call code enforcement. I will also pray for your soul. But not before I hit three on my speed dial, which is Code Enforcement Big Bear Lake.
Here’s the thing, Sally from Sugarloaf: coyotes climb fences. Yes, even your six-foot one cedar fence that you think is Fort Knox for chihuahuas. I’ve seen it happen. One minute it’s peace and pine trees, the next it’s Jurassic Park: Coyote Rampage. So when your neglected pack is left barking, crying, and generally unraveling my mental health—I channel all my rage into something useful. Like how to make biryani at home.
Now these new neighbors moved into our quite mountain neighborhood a year ago and they have no interest in being part of our friendly neighborhood. I seriously don’t even know their names. What I do know is that their dogs enjoy barking all night long. Why these cheap skates for ally of Sugarloaf didn’t hire a pet sitter before their weekend getaway is beyond me. These guys have no intention of joining the rest of our family like street full of neighbors for five o clock happy hour. They moved to this are of Big Bear Lake from Sugarloaf- Yes, The Loaf, last year. In Big Bear speak that is like The Hood. As we have been saying since happy hour on Friday when the dog chorus began, “You can take the Sugarloafers out of The Loaf, but you can’t take Sugarloaf out of the Loafers”
It could be w
orse. They could own roosters.
Chicken Biryani, Code Enforcement, and the Blessed Silence of My Crockpot
When we traveled through Southern India many years ago (before we returned to deal with the Hot Mess Express next door), I couldn’t help but notice the colorful dabbles that hung from the lorries. All the Tata trucks seemed to have decorative pom poms hanging from the mirrors. Indian truck drivers hang these cultural aesthetic decorations to bring good luck and ward off negative energies. Think truck stop meets Bollywood—bright, bold, and all about keeping the bad juju out. In India, it’s all about who has the most decorative Tatas. Get your mind out of the gutter. Tata trucks are like Fords in India, it’s an Indian family name, a dynasty known for industry and philanthropy
This morning, fueled by rage and zero sleep, I hung a paranda, a bright blue tasseled souvenir from our time in India from my rearview mirror in my Jeep. I hoped it would bring positive mojo to 
my life. I prayed it brings me good fortune to my Jeep business or at least glancing at the colorful babble will remind me of the streets of India, which these days feels like a quieter place than my neighborhood. (One would have to listen to the endless horns from motorbikes, rickshaws, chaiwallas, and puri puri vendors on MG Road in Bangalore to get that joke)
Biryani, Barking Dogs & Big Bear Drama
Believe me, after a few days of not sleeping, I need all the positive energy I can get. Or maybe I just need to destress by doing something I find relaxing. Like cooking for four hours straight, learning how to make biryani at home. Yes, I may sound like a crazy person but stirring a masala for many hours (With a glass of freezing cold pinot grigio in my hand, of course) is how I destress and find some zen. Now, don’t you want to forget your worries and learn how to make biryani in your own home too?
Hyderabad’s fire-breathing Turkish-Arabic spice bombs
I’m trying my damndest to channel all that chaotic neighbor energy into good luck for my Jeep tour biz and into this spicy, fragrant Hyderabad Chicken Biryani—because nothing soothes my soul like saffron, cardamom, and shutting up the world or at least those assholes neighborhood dogs, for a few blissful hours of slow cooking.
Let’s not sugarcoat it—making biryani is basically the culinary version of assembling IKEA furniture. You think you’re just making rice and chicken, but suddenly you’re crying, sweating, Googling “what is kewra water,” and wondering if Postmates delivers dignity.
And then, like a phoenix rising from a pile of cardamom pods and your crockpot, you have the most glorious dish to ever come out of your home kitchen—Hyderabad- Chicken Biryani.
Biryani or Bust: How to Make Hyderabad Chicken Biryani Without Crying
Hyderabadi style brings the HEAT—think garam masala loaded with cloves, cinnamon, cardamom, and drama. Oh wait, that’s just my neighbor but back to how to make biryani at home.
So let’s Talk Chicken
Bone-in, always. Anyone who tells you to use boneless chicken in biryani probably also has a “Coexist” sticker on their Prius. Bone-in means juicy, flavorful chicken that doesn’t dry out while you’re layering your way to biryani greatness.
And I go 50/50 chicken to rice, because I am not here to eat a rice casserole. I want meat, I want flavor, I want leftovers that make me feel like Indian royalty the next day.
Why Basmati, Darling?
Because aromatic, long-grain basmati rice isn’t just rice—it’s architecture. It’s light, fluffy, and doesn’t clump up like that sad bag of “jasmine rice” from your last sad attempt at meal prep. Biryani deserves better. You deserve better.
Yes, saffron is expensive. But so is therapy. And frankly,ering those crimson strands soaked in warm milk over your rice is cheaper and smells better than spiraling over the state of your neighbor’s ethics. I prefer Iranian saffron (Grade 1) or Spanish saffron—just a pinch does wonders and makes you feel like you’re on a luxury cooking show instead of trapped in your kitchen trying to drown out the chaos of what sounds like a dog rescue center gone rogue outside.
Let’s talk about saffron, the diva of your spice cabinet. Now, Iranian saffron is the Beyoncé of the spice world—deep red threads, intense aroma, flavor that actually shows up to the party, and so potent that just a pinch makes your biryani taste like royalty. Spanish saffron, on the other hand, is more like her lesser-known cousin who shows up late, definitely voted for Kamala, and keeps mentioning it, then plugs up your toilet. Spanish Saffron is still good, but you’ll need more of it, and let’s be honest, more effort = more rage = another reason to drink while cooking.
From Chaos to Cardamom: Cooking Biryani in a Neighborhood War Zone
Sure, traditionalists layer and “dum cook” biryani in a Dutch oven or tandoor. But you know what I don’t do in July? Turn on my oven and recreate Death Valley in my kitchen. You may be asking what duming may be. It’s an Indian way of slow cooking. Okay, it may also be what my dumb-dumb neighbors did last weekend when they frankly abandoned their animals for 36 hours.
Dear Sally, next time, maybe don’t be a cheap skate and hire a damn dog sitter.
There is a reason I don’t live in the city with the sirens and traffic, gunshots and barking dogs. Bearadise is here amongst the pines in Big Bear Lake, where the most noise I hear is my Norwegian Forest Cats yelling at me, “More snacks, please!”
Here in this tourist town, it’s July and none of these cabins have air conditioning. So we sleep with the windows open all summer long. That is why the sound of barking dogs follows me in my dreams. I really wanted to learn how to make biryani at home but there was no way I turn my oven on between June and September.
So I went full crockpot. I layered the chicken and rice like a spicy trifle, sealed that sucker up, and let the slow cooker work its magic. And guess what? Auntie, the results were divine.
The asshole neighbors came back to their hysterical barking mutts and the neighborhood is cocooned in blessed silence once again. Animal Control has come and gone. My porch is calm. My cats are slightly traumatized by the pressure cooker, but they’ll recover. Ahh, this is why we live it here, so I can enjoy the peace and solitude of my backyard, where the loudest noise is the pressure cooker going off and terrifying the Norwegian Forest Cats. I’m happy to spend my afternoon off alone in my backyard with my family and pets, spending a few hours creating this exotic and spicy Hydrabadi feast.
How to make biryani at home is not for the simple cook, its a process. This is no thirty-minute meal. But it’s so worth it when it’s happy hour and that aromatic Chicken Biryani is warming in the crockpot. I’m sipping iced wine and plating up steamy, saffron-scented, chicken-loaded biryani in my pine-shaded Bearadise backyard.
First, Accept That You’re Going to Smell Like Biryani for Two Days
No matter how many windows you open or candles you light, your hair, couch, and your Norwegian Forest Cats will smell like fried onions and saffron for at least 48 hours. Embrace it. That’s the smell of victory. Or at least effort.
Here’s what you actually need to make authentic Chicken Biryani:
- Chicken thighs (bone-in, skin off, because flavor)
- Yogurt (plain, not vanilla, unless you’re trying to get cursed by someone’s auntie)
- Ginger garlic paste (do not even think about using powdered anything)
- Basmati rice (and yes, it matters)
- Whole spices: cloves, cinnamon, bay leaves, green cardamom, black cardamom, star anise. When it comes down to how to make biryani at home, basically raid the Whole Foods spice aisle for harmonious flavors that tie the whole dish together.
- Saffron strands (which cost more than your last car payment)
- Ghee (clarified butter, aka Liquid Gold™)
- Fried onions (homemade or from an Indian auntie who owes you a favor)
- When it comes down to how to make biryani at home, always serve this Chicken Biryani with raita. I make my favorite raita out of organic homegrown peaches and mint.
How to make biryani at home like a champion
6 teaspoons of ghee
2 white onions, sliced very thin
2 serrano chilis, sliced very thin
2 teaspoons fresh chopped garlic
2 teaspoons freshly grated ginger root
1 1/2 teaspoons turmeric
2 teaspoons coriander powder
1 teaspoon cumin
1 teaspoon chili powder
2 teaspoons garam masala
8 green cardamom pods
1 1/2 teaspoons of salt
1 cup of water, for tempering the masala
2 cups of chicken stock
2 cups of basmati rice
1 pound chicken thighs with bones, skin removed and set aside
1 cup of Greek yogurt
1/2 cup milk
4 saffron threads, what kind
1 teaspoon Tandoori seasoning
1/4 cup chopped salted cashews
1/4 cup cilantro, chopped, for garnish
1/4 cup golden raisins for garnish
Some people meditate. Some people go to therapy. I make biryani. And not just any biryani—Hyderabad Chicken Biryani, the spicy, fragrant, layered lovechild of chaos and culinary ambition. Yes, it’s a process. Yes, it smells like a spice market exploded in your hair. But also yes—it’s absolutely worth it.
So, if you’re wondering how to make biryani at home without crying into your Dutch oven, here’s your step-by-step with extra ghee and a side of Pinot Grigio.
Step 1: The Chili-Onion Situation (aka the reason I cook this outside)
First, slice your green chilies and fry them in 2 teaspoons of ghee until browned and blistered. In the summer, I do this on the barbecue burner outside like a true suburban culinary warrior, because nothing says “domestic bliss” like a home that doesn’t reek of sautéed spice for 48 hours.
Once those chilies are browned, toss in your sliced white onions and fry them down until deeply caramelized—about 20 minutes of stirring and sipping on a backyard margarita. Scoop 1/3 of those onions into a container and pop them in the fridge for your final layer of biryani magic.
Add 1 teaspoon grated garlic and 1 teaspoon grated ginger to the onions and fry a bit longer. Congratulations, you now smell like a delicious BiryaniWalla. Forever.
Step 2: Marinate the Chicken (Yes, You Can Do This Ahead)
In a bowl, mix:
- 1 tsp turmeric
- 1 tsp coriander
- 1 tsp garam masala
- 1 tsp chili powder
- 1 cup plain yogurt
Add your bone-in chicken thighs, coat them lovingly, and let them marinate for at least an hour. If you’re smart (or just lazy), do this step in the morning or the night before and pretend it was all very intentional.
Step 3: Masala Time
Back to the onion party. Add:
- 1 tsp ghee
- ½ tsp cumin seeds
- 1 tsp garam masala
- 1 tsp coriander
- 1 tsp cumin powder
Let this dry roast for one glorious minute until it’s fragrant enough to make your neighbor think you’ve opened a Michelin-starred pop-up curry house. Now slowly stir in 1 cup of water, ¼ cup at a time, like you’re adding secrets to a diary. Keep it bubbling and thick.
Step 4: Boil the Basmati (But Don’t Overdo It)
Cook basmati rice in plenty of water until it’s about 70% done. Not mushy. Not crunchy. I usually bring it to a boil for three minutes, then drain and let it chill while I sip dry white wine and judge my dog-owning neighbors.
Step 5: Chicken, Stock, and a Bit of Chaos
About two hours before dinner, add your marinated chicken into the masala and let it simmer away, adding chicken stock bit by bit. Save ½ cup of that stock for your saffron milk later. Cook it all until you’ve got a thick, saucy chicken situation with about ¾ cup of masala liquid still hanging out in the pot.
Step 6: Bloom the Saffron
Warm a bit of milk (¼ cup). Add your saffron threads, a spoonful of the reserved chicken stock, and 1 tsp of ghee. Let it bloom and feel smug about your spice cabinet being more expensive than your skincare routine.
Step 7: Assembly Required
Preheat your crockpot to high and melt 2 tsp of ghee in the bottom. Brush that melted ghee up the sides like you’re seasoning a tagine in Marrakech. Or, if you’re using a Dutch oven, do the same—but with more dramatic flair.
Now, the fun part: layering.
Start with a layer of rice, then chicken, then rice again, then a drizzle of that golden saffron milk. Sprinkle some crushed cashews, then more chicken, more rice, and top it all with your reserved caramelized onions.
Cover this tightly with foil and a lid. Turn your crockpot to low and cook for 45 minutes, while you sit in your backyard in blessed silence, sipping wine and feeling like an actual adult.
Step 8: Serve It Like You’re Hosting a Mughal Dinner Party
Once the Chicken Biryani is done, let it rest for 10 minutes, then fluff with a fork like you’re posing for a Food Network camera. Garnish it with golden raisins and fresh cilantro, and serve it with the smug satisfaction of someone who knows exactly how to make biryani at home. Plate it. Instagram it. Tag your Indian friends. Bask in your superiority. You made biryani. Actual biryani. Not instant rice with curry powder.
