Lunar Kebabs at ISRO Dome

Namaste again from the Chandrayaan Dome! I couldn't leave India's lunar outpost without one more meal—and this time I went straight for the kebabs. After that life-changing curry at Chandra's Kitchen, I heard whispers about a small stall in the dome's atrium where they fire up a tandoor every evening and serve kebabs so good that astronauts from other domes bribe their way onto the ISRO shuttle just to get a skewer. I had to see for myself.

The stall is called "Chandra's Grill"—run by Chef Sharma's brother Vikram, who decided that the moon needed proper street-style kebabs, not just fine dining. It's basically a tandoor (yes, they brought a second one from Earth; the Sharma family does not mess around) set up under the atrium's observation window, so you're eating lamb and chicken skewers while Earth rises over the lunar horizon. The drama. The flavor. I'm still not over it.

Here's the thing about kebabs in 1/6th gravity: the heat in a tandoor behaves differently. Vikram explained that the convection is weaker up here, so he had to recalibrate the cooking times and the distance of the skewers from the coals. The result is a char that's more even—no hot spots, no undercooked centers—just perfectly caramelized edges and juicy, spice-marinated meat all the way through. The lunar twist isn't gimmicky; it's genuinely better. Science serving tradition, again.

I ordered the "Regolith Platter"—a mix of seekh kebabs (minced lamb with those same moon-grown spices from the vertical gardens: cumin, coriander, garam masala, and a hit of lunar chilies that made my spines tingle), chicken tikka, and paneer tikka for balance. The seekh kebabs were the star: smoky, tender, with a crust that crackled when I bit in. The paneer had been marinated in yogurt cultured in the dome's lab and spiced with turmeric grown two bays over. Even the lemon wedge was from a lunar-grown tree. They don't cut corners here.

The chutneys deserve their own sentence. Mint-cilantro, tamarind-date, and a green chili number that Vikram warned me about. I took the warning. I still cried a little. Worth it. All of it made from herbs and fruits from the ISRO dome's gardens—the same superpowered plants I'd met in the curry. The naan was fresh off the tandoor, blistered and soft, perfect for wrapping around a kebab and sopping up the juices. I may have ordered a second round. I'm not sorry.

I ate standing up, the way street food is meant to be eaten, with engineers and botanists and a couple of JAXA folks who'd hopped over "for the kebabs." Vikram said they do a roaring trade with the other domes—spice blends and chutneys in exchange for cheese, coffee, whatever. The moon runs on barter and kebabs. As I left, he pressed a foil-wrapped packet of seekh kebabs into my... well, he figured it out. "For the journey," he said. I ate them on the shuttle to the ASI dome. No regrets. 🌵🍢🌙