Anthony Amma is seated in a street corner surrounded by large cauldrons of simmering meat curries. She stirs the dishes intermittently as customers surround her ordering a little of this and that, that she swiftly packs in neat paper parcels. It is almost 9pm — dinner time at Vysarpadi’s JJR Nagar’s 5th Street — and men, women, and children come in droves to buy beef offal curries to be had with rice back home. The dishes, collectively known as kavab, are a North Chennai speciality, one that is deeply entwined with the region’s culture and identity.

“I grew up eating kavab,” says N Sakthivel from Vyasai Thozhargal, a movement that empowers children through education. The 31-year-old recalls how the dish, which consists of meat cut into small cubes and cooked until tender with a crisp exterior, was a popular after-school, pre-dinner snack in his younger years. “Women would sell it on the streets. For as little as ₹5, they would serve a handful that we would munch on as we ran to play football,” says the documentary photographer.

P Anitha, seated in front of the housing board tenements at Mullai Nagar selling kavab

P Anitha, seated in front of the housing board tenements at Mullai Nagar selling kavab
| Photo Credit:
AKHILA EASWARAN

Sakthivel points out how the dish was popularised by being featured in the lyrics of The Casteless Collective’s ‘Beef Song’. However, it remains confined to North Chennai. Kavab, a portion of which is priced at ₹10, is easy on the pocket and is filling too. “Which is why men who work physically demanding jobs prefer a few servings of it for dinner. It satiates large appetites,” he says.

A Vijaya has been selling kavab for 18 years at JJ Nagar. “I buy the meat from a slaughterhouse in Aaduthotti at 8am every day,” says the 60-year-old, adding that cleaning the meat is a time-consuming process. “I wash it several times after which I boil it for over three hours,” she explains. Once cooked well, she sprinkles salt and chilli powder and lets the mixture marinate.

Vijaya sets up her stall at around 8pm to coincide with the time when the region’s loadmen and auto-drivers come home from work. The roasting begins at the stall — she cooks the meat in its own fat and juices, stirring it in a wide-mouthed pan on the stove. “It has to be had hot to enjoy its full flavour and texture; otherwise, the meat tends to harden,” she says.

Kavab is confined to North Chennai.

Kavab is confined to North Chennai.
| Photo Credit:
N Sakthivel

Vijaya learned to process and cook meat from her mother-in-law P Minimma, who was one of the first women to sell kavab in Vyasarpadi. “We use various terms to describe specific portions of the meat,” she says, adding: “There is kanippu, kuttipai, karukkal, and thorappu.”

Sakthivel says the smell of meat being roasted by the roadside defined his childhood. “Children like to pop it in as it is, while the grown-ups simply mix it with rice and pair it with rasam or sambar,” he says.

P Anitha is seated in front of the housing board tenements at Mullai Nagar selling kavab. “My mother does the cooking, and I sell it for her from 5pm to 12am,” she says, adding that she gets a share of the profit. “This way, I get to earn a little something to contribute to our family expenses,” says the 30-year-old.

At Anthony Amma’s stall in Vysarpadi’s JJR Nagar’s 5th street

At Anthony Amma’s stall in Vysarpadi’s JJR Nagar’s 5th street
| Photo Credit:
AKHILA EASWARAN

These days though, the number of women making the dish has reduced owing to the sheer process of preparing the meat. “A number of Chinese fast-food and chicken pakoda shops have sprung up in North Chennai, that many people now prefer over kavab,” says Sakthivel, adding that the dish is healthier in comparison, especially since it is devoid of additives and heavy masalas.

At Anthony Amma’s stall meanwhile, crowds surge as the clock inches to 10pm. She has been selling for 35 years and is one of the most popular kavab sellers in the region. S Keerthana, a college student, has come to buy some for dinner and S Govindan, an auto driver, has rice back home that he will pair with meat. “Every time there is sambar or kara kozhambu at home, I come here straight,” he chuckles. “Kavab makes any kozhambu bearable.”

Published – March 02, 2026 03:10 pm IST


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