Afghan refugee who got Danes to eat Indian food beyond butter chicken & naan

Pune: Enayatullah Safi’s mother would shut the windows, draw the curtains and put on Hindi films for him and his brother to watch when the sounds of war outside in Kabul grew too loud. Bollywood brought the family together around a modest dastarkhan every Friday night after dinner and more so when they moved to Denmark as refugees. It reminded them of home, family and a culture that still felt familiar when everything else had changed.

Safi’s father, an officer in the Afghan military, moved the family out of Kabul in 2001 after the Taliban takeover. Safi arrived in Copenhagen at 13. “My parents were not thinking about careers or long-term plans. Their focus was survival and a future for their children. Denmark represented stability, education and the possibility of a normal life. Many Afghan families then chose Europe, especially Nordic countries, Germany and France,” said Safi.

“We had many South Asian families in our neighbourhood. People shared food, watched movies together and tried to recreate a sense of home,” he said.

Shortly after arriving in Copenhagen, Safi started a job washing dishes at a Chinese restaurant. He worked every evening after school, first as a dishwasher and as a kitchen helper later. Jobs at Mexican and Italian restaurants followed.

“As an immigrant, I had to take whatever work was available to help support my family — even when I was barely a teenager. While washing dishes, I would watch the flames from the wok station and chefs tossing food with speed and confidence. It fascinated me. One day, I asked the restaurant owner if I could cook my own staff meals and he agreed. That’s how I started to cook. I had no formal culinary training. I learned by doing,” he said.

Safi remained drawn to food even while studying political science at the University of Copenhagen. He had saved enough money to finally travel to India by then, inspired by the Bollywood films he had grown up watching. In 2014, he travelled through Delhi, Jaipur and Mumbai.

“I couldn’t return to Afghanistan, so India felt like the closest thing to home. I spent time in dhabas across north India learning how every region uses spices differently because of its history, climate and community. When I walked through the lanes of old Delhi, it reminded me of Kabul — the street food culture, the grills, the crowds, the energy, people eating together outside,” said Safi. The trip transformed the way he understood food.

“In Afghanistan, flavours are cleaner and simpler. We use spices like cumin, coriander and cardamom, but usually with restraint. In India, every region approaches spices differently,” he said.

He spent much of his time in highway dhabas and local eateries across North India, studying spice combinations, cooking techniques and regional dishes. He became especially fascinated by Indian vegetarian cuisine. “I discovered okra and fell in love with it. Whenever I visit my friend’s home in Jaipur now, I request his mother to cook only vegetarian food for me. Indian vegetarian cuisine has so much depth, history and flavour that you genuinely don’t miss meat,” said Safi.

When he returned to Copenhagen and opened his first Indian restaurant with his brother in 2015, he realised Denmark’s understanding of Indian cuisine was limited.

“We kept seeing the same orders coming into the kitchen — butter chicken and naan. Most Danish people associated Indian food only with those two dishes. We started serving halim, nihari, biryani and regional curries, but nobody ordered them initially. Of course, we adjusted spice levels slightly for local palates,” he said.

Eventually, Safi introduced the thali allowing customers to try several smaller portions in one meal. “It changed everything. People began tasting dishes they would never normally order because they did not recognise the names on the menu,” he said.

Customers returned talking about samosas, kebabs, halim and regional curries they had discovered through those platters. Safi realised the issue was not resistance to Indian food, but unfamiliarity with its diversity.

Over the next decade, the idea helped build one of Scandinavia’s best known Indian restaurant groups, Dhaba Kitchen, with outlets across Denmark and Sweden and plans for further expansion.

Menus rotate seasonally and travel across regions of India. There is lal maas from Rajasthan, Goan prawn curry, paya nihari, chana saag, butter cauliflower, fish pollichathu, okra fries and banana chips from Kerala. Safi continues travelling to India four or five times a year, often spending days eating through Delhi’s street food lanes and local restaurants in search of ideas.

“India is impossible to finish learning. Every visit teaches me something new, whether it is the alchemy of spices or small cooking techniques passed down over generations,” said Safi.

There is a lot of craze for Indian food in Denmark now, moving far beyond restaurant dining, he noted.

“Supermarkets today stock frozen naan, ready made curries and spice mixes because demand has grown so much. People are cooking Indian food at home now. They want to understand regional dishes. They want more than just one curry,” said Safi.

Many ingredients in his restaurants, including spices, tamarind products and mangoes, are sourced directly from India. He has also written two cookbooks and regularly appears on Danish television demonstrating Indian recipes to home cooks.

Today, Safi has become one of the strongest voices introducing Denmark to the depth and variety of Indian cuisine, especially the everyday food found in dhabas and roadside kitchens rather than luxury restaurants. “I wanted people to understand that Indian food is not one thing. It is hundreds of cuisines, stories and traditions,” he added.