Narrator: From cooking for 100,000 people daily at the Golden Temple in India to making the world's biggest
torta frita in Argentina, we traveled the globe to
uncover the amazing stories behind the world's
biggest batches of food. Our first stop is Onam
festival in Kerala, India. Narrator: This crew of 20 chefs is working against the clock as they prepare 150,000 sadyas for Kerala's harvest festival, Onam. Every sadya is made of 20
distinct vegetarian dishes and requires the team to prepare at least a month in advance. It is a huge task, and
all the responsibility for delivering it successfully
falls on Chef Mahadevan. Narrator: We visited
Vinayaka Caterers in Kerala to see how Chef Mahadevan and his team prepare an Onam sadya in such big batches. Among the 20 dishes they make, one of their most popular is a dessert called palada payasam. Narrator: Making this
dish is time-intensive and begins with making rice flakes out of a brown rice that is
washed, dried, and crushed. Coconut oil and sugar are
then added into the rice, and the mixture is placed
inside a banana leaf, where it is rolled, tied, and steamed. Narrator: The resulting rice flakes are pressed in the morning and set aside. Also in the morning, 120 liters of milk are poured into a large pot and boiled. Narrator: Another popular dish
in the Onam sadya is avial, which has traditionally been made with 13 different vegetables. At Vinayaka, avial is made in batches that can feed 500 to 600 people. Narrator: Because there
are so many vegetables, everything is washed and
chopped the day before cooking. Narrator: In the morning,
the vegetables are added inside of the giant pots
and cooked on low heat. Narrator: At this stage,
chefs also add coriander, turmeric, salt, raw mango, and sour curd. Then they cover the pot
and leave it to steam. Narrator: Once all of the
buttermilk has been drained, the avial is ready for more spices. Cumin paste, green chili paste, and curry leaves are all
added and mixed inside. Narrator: But achieving this flavor is easier said than done. Narrator: Another popular dish is sambar, which also requires a day of prepping before anything is cooked. Heaps of lentils are washed,
soaked, and then boiled. Once the lentils have cooked, a mix of spices is added to the pots, including tamarind water, coriander, turmeric, asafetida, green chilies, curry leaves, and jaggery. The sambar is brought to a boil, and coconut oil is added
along with chopped vegetables. Narrator: But the most
distinct flavor of the sambar lies in its masala, which
is a mix of coriander, black gram, Bengal gram, long chilies, chilies, curry leaves, and asafetida. Narrator: Chef Mahadevan's
company has been making sadyas for 32 years. It began cooking for
groups of 50 to 100 people and eventually grew
into a daily operation, serving thousands of meals every month. Narrator: Today, Chef
Mahadevan employs a crew of 20 people at the height of Onam to meet the demands of his customers. Narrator: While feeding this
many people is no easy feat, Chef Mahadevan remains humble about the art and craft of his work. Narrator: When all of the
dishes have been cooked, they are packed and
brought to a dining hall, where they are served as
elaborately as they are cooked. Banana leaves are placed on
tables and serve as plates. At a traditional sadya,
the banana-leaf tips must always face to the left of the eater. Once set, workers scoop the dishes into exact positions from left to right, and papadams, which are
like spicy crackers, are added as a final touch. Narrator: The smallest portions are also served on the left side, and larger portions are
closer to the right side. Narrator: Onam is a
10-day harvest festival that marks the first month
of the Malayalam calendar and commemorates the return
of the mythical King Mahabali from the underworld to his home in Kerala. His return is celebrated
with floral artwork, traditional dances, boat races, and the Onam sadya. Vinayaka's Onam sadya
costs around $3 per person, and the amount of food
you can eat is unlimited. Throughout the meal, servers
come around to tables, refilling hot rice in the
center of the banana leaf and spooning out more dishes. While many Hindu communities in Kerala opt for a purely vegetarian meal, other Hindu, Christian,
and Muslim celebrants -- especially those in the
northern part of the state -- enjoy their Onam feast with
prawn curry or beef fry. The meal concludes in
the same way it begins, with a variety of sweet payasam puddings and a fragrant, digestive paan. Narrator: Every day,
Uzbek bakers hand-roll and stamp 8,000 loaves of bread. Shaped like wheels, these
loaves are dense and chewy, with a golden crust and an airy crumb. Weighing in at 1.5 kilos,
they're often eaten in groups and shared around the dinner table. While you can find countless
varieties of these breads across Uzbekistan, the
most legendary loaves are baked in the city of Samarkand. Here, bread is sacred and
made with the utmost care. Narrator: We visited Samarkand to see how these loaves are made and what it takes to
bake such big batches. Making these loaves begins by combining 62 kilograms of flour, water, salt, and yeast
into a mechanical mixer. After about 40 minutes,
the dough is taken out, kneaded, and left to rise for four hours. The dough is then cut into 1.5-kilo balls, which are then left to rest and rise for another hour and 20 minutes. Narrator: One bowl is
3 1/2 times the weight of an average American loaf of bread. Once the dough has risen,
it is ready to be shaped. This is where master bread
maker Davronov Okhun comes in. He has been making bread for eight years and can make 600 loaves a
day during his 12-hour shift. Narrator: Similar to
scoring bread before baking, workers use needle-tip manpas
to create small punctures in the center of the loaf. When the bread is cooked, steam is able to escape from these holes and prevent the center from rising. But there's more behind these
scores than just function. These patterns are also decorative and are used as a way for
bakers to add their signature. Once a loaf has been rounded and stamped, sesame seeds are pressed
into the center of the bread. Narrator: While the bread waits, giant tandoor ovens are heated. Once hot, they're sprayed with water and brought down to a
more ideal temperature. Keeping the oven at the right temperature is done entirely by feel, and it is one of the most important parts of the baking process. Narrator: Before the bread
is slapped inside the oven, bakers rub a small amount of
water on the bottom of the loaf so it can better stick to
the walls of the tandoor. Using a cloth to clutch the bread, bakers dive headfirst into the oven, sticking loaf after loaf until every square inch
of the oven is filled. But this acrobatic baking
doesn't come without risk. Narrator: While falling
into an oven is rare, bakers must be incredibly
accurate with their aim and stick. One false move and they could lose a loaf, or worse, they could burn themselves. Each of these ovens can
fit around 56 large loaves or up to 72 small ones at a time. Because of the oven's high temperature, these breads only need
a few minutes to cook. When the core is crisp
and the sides have puffed, the bread is ready to be scooped out. Unlike conventional
ovens used in the West, tandoor ovens retain heat
for longer periods of time and require less fuel. The use of vertical ovens like these is believed to come
from the Semitic peoples who spread across the Middle
East and Central Asia. Relics of these ovens have
been dated to 5050 BCE. Narrator: Once baked,
the breads are loaded onto delivery trucks and
driven to the local bazaar. Here, locals can shop for produce and pick up this legendary
bread for about $1 to $2, depending on its weight. Narrator: Because of its unmatched taste, legend has it that the air of Samarkand is what gives this bread its
unique texture and flavor. Beyond its distinct taste,
this bread is also symbolic. Giant loaves are often split in half during wedding ceremonies to symbolize the unity between families, and Uzbek children are often taught to pick up bread from the floor so that a single crumb
never goes to waste. Fresh-baked bread is typically
savored with butter and jam. And after a few days, the firmer loaves are
broken into chunky bits for dipping in hot soups and gravy. Luckily, Samarkand's breads
have a long shelf life and can last up to 10 days. So if you ever need one sent by mail or plan to travel for an
extended period of time, this might be the best bread for you. This is the largest free
kitchen in the world. Open 24 hours year-round, this food hole feeds 100,000
people for free each day. And on religious holidays,
that number can double. Just one of these huge bowls is enough to feed around 10,000 people. We visited Amritsar in India to find out everything that goes into
feeding such a large crowd and to see just what it takes
to make such big batches. This is Harmandir Sahib, often referred to as the Golden Temple. It's the largest Sikh shrine in the world. But despite being part of the holy site, this kitchen doesn't discriminate. The food is completely free to anyone regardless of religion,
gender, or ethnicity. Narrator: Community kitchens, or langar, have been popular across South Asia since the birth of Sikhism. And the langar at the Golden Temple has been serving meals since 1577. Each dish is cooked in giant metal vats. Over 100 gas cylinders
and huge piles of wood are burned through every day
to keep things running 24/7. And there's only one short 30-minute break in the cooking, from 4:30 to 5 a.m. Thousands of vegetables have
to be peeled and prepared by volunteers before
they're taken to be cooked. And while the menu can vary
depending on availability or the donated vegetables
that the kitchen may receive, it is always vegetarian. But keeping this many people fed takes a lot of ingredients. Narrator: If you've never heard
the term "quintal" before, it's 100 kilograms. So that's a total of 2,000 kilos, or 2 tonnes, of dal per day. Narrator: That's over 375 kilos of onions and 100 kilos of spices every 24 hours, just for the dal. To make it, chana dal, or split chickpeas, and urad dal, or black
lentils, are mixed together and repeatedly washed. They're then moved into even larger vats and mixed with the onions, spices, salt, and ghee, a clarified butter, and cooked together. The kitchen spends over
$5,000 a day on ghee alone. And it's not just the dal. Each day, the kitchen offers the lentils, a vegetable dish, bread, kheer, rice, pickle, water, and tea. Kheer is a sweet pudding
made of rice, milk, sugar, and almonds boiled together. But one of the biggest demands
on the kitchen is bread. Unlike the huge vats
that can be made in bulk, each chapati needs to be rolled out separately before cooking. Once rolled, each one
is hand coated in ghee to add flavor and keep it from drying out. To keep up with demand, the work is split between machines and
people cooking by hand. Producing the bread alone
takes 10 tonnes of flour a day. [machines buzzing] Narrator: And to keep this
operation running smoothly, it takes a lot of volunteers. Narrator: This selfless service is an important part of Sikhism. Sewadars, or religious volunteers, are key to keeping this
operation running daily. From peeling and chopping vegetables and even donating food to serving and cleaning, almost everything is volunteer run. Narrator: Using metal trays
keeps waste to a minimum, but it makes a lot of noise. [metal plates clanging] The scale of the kitchen has
been constantly expanding to accommodate more and
more visitors each year. 20 years ago, the kitchen would use 3,500 kilos of flour per day. But now that number has tripled. It now costs over $4 million a year to keep the kitchen running. But with a constant stream
of donations and support, the langar has kept up with demand no matter the number of visitors. Narrator: In less than an hour, everything inside of this
tandoor oven will be sold out. These are samsas, a popular
street food in Uzbekistan made of dough, meat, onions, and spices. And here at Samsa Markazi, in Namangan, master chef Qobiljon Gofur
o'gli Khamdamov and his team hand-roll and cook 3,000
samsas every weekend. Narrator: We visited
Samsa Markazi to see how these famous snacks are
made in such big batches. Making samsas for the weekend
begins at 8 a.m. on Friday. Large bags of strong
flour are poured inside a mechanical mixer and
combined with oil and water. Markazi uses strong flour because of its high gluten content, which is helpful for
holding ingredients inside. But not all flour passes the test. Narrator: While the dough is being mixed, large chunks of beef and lamb
are cut down into strips, then cubed and minced. Over the weekend, Qobiljon and his team will cut up to 500 pounds of meat, a process that takes around 15 hours. They also prep eggplants, onions, green peppers, cilantro, tomatoes, and cucumbers. When the dough is ready, workers pull pieces into
their hands and roll balls that they then slap on
the table and roll flat. These shapes are what they'll
use to wrap each samsa. And by the end of the weekend,
the team will hand-roll about 3,000 of them in
various shapes and sizes. While Samsa Markazi makes 20
different varieties of samsas, one of its best-selling
items is the deluxe samsa, a colossal meal that weighs
close to 2 kilograms. Narrator: Head samsa chef Tokhir Khamdamov starts making the deluxe samsa by adding beef into a large bucket, seasoning it with black and
red pepper, salt, and cumin, and mixing it with the
precut eggplant, onions, green peppers, cilantro,
tomatoes, and cucumbers. He scoops and weighs
400 grams of the mixture before placing it on top of the dough, which has a quail egg in the center. He tops the mound with meatloaf, beef tongue, and horsemeat sausage, which
is locally known as kazy, before wrapping the entire
thing into a neat rectangle. One of Markazi's other popular
samsas is the kosa samsa, which literally translates
into "bowl samsa." Narrator: They then
top the ball with kazy. Narrator: Markazi is also well known for its samsa with cheese. Narrator: When all of the
samsas have been wrapped, they're placed on long wooden
boards, coated with water, and sprinkled with white
and black sesame seeds, which give them a nutty finish. Workers then carry the boards outside, where Markazi's nine tandoor ovens have been preheated with wood. Determining when these ovens are ready is done entirely by feel and experience. Narrator: Unlike the conventional
ovens used in the West, tandoor ovens retain heat
for longer periods of time and require less fuel. Narrator: The kosa samsa
takes about an hour to cook and is the first samsa
to go inside of the oven. Bakers rub a small amount
of water on each samsa before diving into the
oven and sticking them to every square inch of the wall. Each of these ovens can hold
around 150 samsas at a time. After about 20 minutes, the tops of the kosa
samsas start to brown, and the oven is sprayed again with water before it's covered
with a giant metal lid. The samsas are then steamed
for another 20 minutes. But knowing when they're
perfect takes a keen eye. Narrator: At 10 a.m.,
the first batch of samsas is ready to be served. The metal lid is removed from the oven, and the samsas are scraped
off of the tandoor walls into metal catchers. Cooks slice open the flaky
tops of the kosa samsas and pour a hot veal-tongue broth inside before serving them to customers. Hungry groups who want
to pick their own samsas begin queuing an hour before opening, while other guests take a seat and have their samsas
delivered to their table. Every samsa is enjoyed
with a warm cup of tea, spicy tomato-chili sauce,
and cucumber-tomato salad. The deluxe samsa, which is the
largest and most elaborate, costs around $6. And while each samsa has a
slightly different filling and shape, the most important
parts of a good samsa are the crispy dough, juicy
broth, and meat filling. Narrator: While it is now
widely considered taboo in the US to eat horsemeat,
that wasn't always the case. Today, horsemeat also remains
popular in parts of Europe, Canada, and East Asia, including Japan, where it is considered a delicacy. Eating samsas is always a social event, and many people come to samsa restaurants like this multiple times a week. Narrator: The samsa is
believed to have been invented in the 10th century, when
it was called sanbusak, a Persian word that refers
to the triangular shape of the original samsa. Because of its portability,
the samsa became a popular snack among
merchants on the Silk Road. Through trade, it eventually made its way across the Middle East and
into India in the 13th century. Here, it evolved into the samosa, where it was no longer baked
in ovens but fried in oil. While these differences remain, both countries share an absolute
love for the handheld pies. Narrator: This is Akshaya Patra, the world's largest
free-school-meal program. This kitchen alone makes enough biryani for 75,000 children daily. Across India, the foundation's 65 kitchens serve 2 million children every day in over 19,000 schools, and has served over 3 billion meals since its inception in 2000, something which Vice Chairman Sri Chanchalapathi Dasa is very proud of. Chanchalapathi: It's like
feeding all of India three times. Narrator: We visited a mega kitchen to see how they make vegetable biryani and moong dal payasam in such big batches. This mega kitchen is located in Bangalore, the capital of India's
southern Karnataka state, and staffs 230 workers
across three floors. We start on the top floor, where all of the food is cleaned, cut, and prepped. Every day, workers prepare the following day's raw ingredients and then store the food in a cold room that can hold up to 5 tons of food. Shridhar Venkat: On an average day, we use about 25 ingredients
in this kitchen, and one very important
aspect in Akshaya Patra is the menu design. Narrator: Today's menu
includes vegetable biryani, an Indian rice dish that
the kitchen prepares with a mix of vegetables
and a house blend of spices. Workers begin by running the crates of prepped vegetables through
these cutting machines. So, because we are preparing
large quantity of food and we have to do it very quickly and we have to do it
very cost-efficiently, we extensively use a lot of technology. Narrator: This batch of
biryani contains tomatoes, green peppers, cabbage, carrots, potatoes, and squash. Shridhar: If you look at these crates, every meal which goes to a child at least has minimum 50 gram of vegetable for a primary-school child and 75 gram of vegetables for an upper-primary-school child. Narrator: Alongside the
vegetables, workers also portion and prepare rice for this dish. The rice is then washed thoroughly with water before it's cooked. On an average day, the kitchen can handle about 7 tons of grains
and 5 tons of dairy. The washed rice and precut
vegetables then move through a chute that
connects to the second floor. This simple use of gravity
is one of the key components of this facility, as it reduces the amount of manual labor and keeps things clean. The ingredients land into 51 of these stainless-steel cauldrons, where the cooks use massive stirrers to mix everything together. Workers then close the lids
and utilize a 2-ton boiler that generates steam to cook the food. Shridhar: So, biryani takes
typically an hour to make, right from preprocessing to finishing it, and the cauldron, which you see here, can feed about 1,000 children. Narrator: For food safety and cleanliness, the vegetable biryani is
temperature-checked and logged. And next to each cauldron, a small stainless-steel
vessel stores a sample of each batch, which is then tested 24 hours later for microbial growth. Once a week, children
receive their lunchtime meal with a sweet treat. Shridhar: And here, moong
dal payasam is being made. Moong dal payasam is a dessert, and children love
dessert, being youngsters. So, each of these cauldrons can handle about 1,200 liters of dal, or lentils. Narrator: 1,500 pounds
of lentils drop down into each of the six cauldrons
used to cook the dish. Milk and raisins are also added
for texture and creaminess. Finally, jaggery syrup,
which is an unrefined natural sweetener made from sugarcane, gets stirred in to the cauldrons. Shridhar: Typically, moong
dal payasam takes about 1½ hours to one hour 45 minutes, right from boiling the moong dal till the final dessert is made. Narrator: Once the vegetable biryani and moong dal payasam
are finished cooking, workers transfer the dishes from the cauldrons into these carts, which are then taken
to another large chute that connects to the ground floor. The food drops down, then gets portioned and packed into individual
vessels for distribution. Shridhar: These are food-grade vessels. Each of the vessels can handle food for about 85 to 100 children, and one of the important cornerstones of Akshaya Patra is hygiene and safety. So, you can see, each vessel where food is going to be stored is getting washed or cleansed with steam. Narrator: Then they're
passed down a conveyor belt and get loaded onto Akshaya
Patra's custom-built buses, called "buses of hope." Shridhar: These are insulated vehicles which keep the food warm. Large quantity of food
goes in each vehicle. Over a period of time, Akshaya Patra has developed
logistics ability. So, for example, from this kitchen, we have about 32 vehicles. We handle about close to 650 schools, and we are feeding about
75,000 children every day, though the end-all strength
is about 110,000 children. Narrator: And that is
just a single kitchen. When you include the 64
other locations across India, they feed over 2 million children daily. Chanchalapathi: It had
a very modest beginning. We started serving 1,500 children in the outskirts of Bangalore
city in the year 2000, and gradually, we saw there
were more and more requests from the headmasters of the schools, who would write to us and say, "We see your vehicle carrying food pass in front of our school. Can you please stop
and feed our children?" And when we saw these requests, we kept increasing and
scaling up our program, and that's how, today, in Bangalore city, we serve about 200,000 children. Narrator: So, how does
Akshaya Patra get its funds to pay for all of the
free food they provide? Chanchalapathi: So, we
get a certain amount of support from the government. We top it up with some more money that we raise from
individuals and foundation to ensure that the meal
we give to the children is hot, nutritious, safe, tasty, so that children are delighted
to have a meal at noontime. Narrator: Today, they serve 19,000 schools across 14 states and two union territories in India. Kitchen staff will create menus based on the students' preferences
and feedback by area. For example, Akshaya Patra's kitchens in northern Indian
regions can expect foods like roti or flatbreads. In southern India, rice
is more widely eaten as a staple food, and the children love
the rice-based dishes prepared by the foundation. Shridhar: Another important
aspect of Akshaya Patra is we want to give what otherwise their mothers will give to them if they're at home and
the mothers had resources. Of course, no one can replace a mother, but Akshaya Patra tries to come as close to what a mother can cook. Chanchalapathi: You know,
you cannot run a big program of this kind in a
mechanical, official manner. All of the personnel involved
in the Akshaya Patra program come with a deep commitment of compassion and kindness for children, and so it is that compassion that keeps us very highly
motivated day after day to see that we do our tasks and duties with a lot of heart. Narrator: Every weekend,
Saúl Torres and his crew make and sell 500 pounds of lamb barbacoa to nearly 1,200 people. Narrator: Wrapped inside
long maguey leaves and slow roasted for 11 hours, this lamb barbacoa is
legendary for its tenderness and its sweet and smoky flavors. We visited Saúl at his
restaurant, El Pica 1, in Texcoco, Mexico, to see
how this dish is prepared and what it takes to
make such big batches. Narrator: Making enough
barbecue for the weekend begins at 8 a.m. on Friday. Saúl and his team begin
preheating the 11 pit ovens by adding large cuts of
wood into the bottoms and stripping pieces of
cardboard for kindling. Using a lighter, they set the
pieces of cardboard on fire and place them into
the center of the wood. When the flames reach the top of the oven, they start off-loading fresh maguey leaves and placing them across the ovens. The agave leaves are roasted until they become more flexible. Meanwhile, another team
off-loads 500 pounds of lamb and places it into the meat-prep area. Using a machete, they cut
down the larger pieces so the meat can better fit
inside of the 3-foot-wide oven. All of the ovens El Pica 1 uses are preheated for seven to eight hours. But knowing when the oven is ready is based entirely on feel. Narrator: When the oven is ready, the remaining pieces of wood are removed and a smoldering pile
is left at the bottom. Workers then take the
preroasted maguey leaves and line the ovens. These leaves contain a sap, which will infuse the meat
with a sweet, smoky flavor when combined with the wood embers. Narrator: Once the oven has been wrapped, a large steel pot filled with chickpeas, guajillo chilies, secret spices, and water is lowered into the bottom. Narrator: They then place a
metal grill on top of that pot to hold the stack of meat inside the oven. Narrator: When the oven is full, the maguey leaves are folded over the meat and a large metal lid is placed on top and sealed using wet mud and sand. Narrator: The barbecue
is left to cook overnight for 11 hours, braising in
its own juices and fat. Underneath, the consommé helps steam and infuse the meats with flavor while collecting fat drippings. By morning, the team at El Pica 1 will have a rich consommé
to serve alongside the smoky, sweet lamb barbacoa. Narrator: They start serving the barbacoa at 7:45 a.m. the next day. Narrator: Using two plates, workers dive headfirst into the oven, scooping large pieces of tender lamb into plastic-lined boxes. The meat is sold for about $10 per pound, and customers can choose
the cuts they want. Narrator: The word "barbecue" originated with the Taíno people of the Caribbean, who used a wooden platform set over a fire to cook their meat. And barbacoa, which directly
translates to barbecue, has been cooked in pit ovens in Mexico for more than 500 years. Narrator: Inside El Pica 1, customers buy the consommé
to dip their meats into, and vendors sell other condiments and tortillas to complement the barbecue. Narrator: Even though El
Pica 1 usually sells out of its lamb barbacoa every weekend, the restaurant has no plans
to cook more than 500 pounds. Narrator: Sandwiched in a
5-meter-wide metal grid, this is Argentina's attempt to fry the world's largest torta frita. But before this dough
ever touches the pan, it takes a team of 24 people to prepare the bread and
lift it with a crane, all so it can be served
to the 20,000 people who came to Mercedes, Argentina, to eat the biggest torta
frita in the world. Narrator: We visited Mercedes to see how this torta frita is made and what it takes to
make such big batches. Making this torta frita begins with a dozen
individual bags of flour, weighing 9 kilograms each. The flour is emptied on a table, and a team of 12 kneaders make
individual mounds of flour, forming a crater in the center. Once formed, another
volunteer comes around and adds a large ladle
of fat into each mound. Kneaders then mix the
flour and fat together, gradually adding about a pitcher of water as they mix and knead the dough. But kneading this dough isn't easy. Gabriela is the head
kneader of the festival and has been making giant
torta fritas since 2009. Narrator: While the dough is being formed, another group of volunteers
lights a wood fire underneath the 5-meter pan
that will cook the torta frita. The pan itself is full of
1,600 kilograms of grease, which festival organizers have collected over the course of three months. Narrator: After the
dough has been combined into a single massive ball, it's covered with a cloth and
left to rise for 15 minutes. The next step is the most
difficult part of the process: flattening and shaping the dough. Working together, bakers walk around the
dough in covered shoes, using their feet and body weight to push the edges of the dough out until it starts to resemble a giant disk. Narrator: Working together,
the team of bakers uses a 6-meter-wide rolling pin to get the dough as flat as possible. Standing in the center of the roller, two workers use their feet to help apply even
pressure across the pin. Going section by section, the bakers then rock and roll the pin to gradually flatten the dough. [crowd clapping] Narrator: While the bakers try their best to roll the dough into
a single flat sheet, it's easier said than done. Parts of the dough rip
and need to be patched. Narrator: The metal grid
weighs close to 1,000 kilograms and helps sandwich the torta frita so it can be lifted by the crane. Narrator: But it could all go wrong if the grid isn't tight enough. [crowd cheering] It takes about 10 minutes
to fry the first side. And after all of that, they
have to take it out again, spin it, and cook the other side. Narrator: When the bread is done, workers peel off large sections and hand them out to the hungry crowd. Narrator: In Argentina, torta
frita is a popular street food that's often enjoyed with
a warm cup of yerba mate. Narrator: The Fried-Cake
Festival began in 1999 as a way to honor and remember veterans who served in the Falklands War. And in 2009, festival
organizers decided to make the world's largest torta frita. Over the years, Uruguay and Argentina have passed that record back and forth. And while this annual tradition was paused at the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, Mercedes' torta frita returned in 2022 to reclaim the world title. Narrator: Weighing 350 kilograms, this is one of the largest
rice pilafs in the world. Locally known as plov, it is the national dish of Uzbekistan. It is enjoyed year-round as a weekday meal and prepared on huge scales
for weddings and holidays. Its popularity and
ubiquity across Uzbekistan cannot be overstated. It is so beloved that nearly 3,000 people come to Besh Qozon
Pilaf Center in Tashkent to have it for lunch every day. Narrator: We visited Besh
Qozon to see what it takes to make such big batches. Making plov on this scale
begins the night before. Workers start by peeling and cutting 100 kilograms of carrots and placing them into large buckets. In the morning, master chef Mirkomil, who has been making
this dish for 20 years, starts cutting 100 kilograms
of mutton and beef. Narrator: He then ties the
chunks of meat together. Tying the meat helps
ensure it stays tender during the cooking process and prevents it from splaying. Just preparing these
ingredients takes three hours. While the meat is being prepared, a large cast-iron cauldron
called a qozon is preheated and filled with 40
liters of sunflower oil. In Uzbekistan, it's said that the best-tasting
pilafs are the oiliest. Once warm, those chunks of beef and mutton are slid into the center of the qozon and cooked until golden brown. When the beef has browned, chefs work together to lift and dump 100 kilograms of cut
carrots into the center along with onions. This blend of carrots and
onions is known as zirvak and is the general base for all plov. This base is similar to soffritto in Italy and mirepoix in France. Plov recipes used to
include spinach, chestnuts, beans, and dried fruits, but most of these ingredients
have been substituted. At Besh Qozon, soft
raisins, garbanzo beans, dried barberries, and water are added. After about 30 minutes, 100 kilograms of a local
long-grain laser rice is added and covered
by large metal plates, which help steam the rice. Unlike many Middle Eastern
pilafs that fry the rice, the steamed rice in plov
is crumbly, soft, and airy. But achieving this texture
and making sure the rice doesn't stick together is difficult. Narrator: When the rice is done, the steaming plates are removed and the rice is fluffed into the mix. The entire cooking process
takes around six hours and is a labor of love. Narrator: Once mixed,
generous portions of plov are loaded onto plates. In Uzbekistan, there are
over 120 recipes for plov that use some combination of meat, vegetables, salad, and raisins. Plov in Uzbekistan is typically served with a fresh tomato
and crispy onion salad, but there are plenty of other condiments and toppings you can add. Narrator: And everyone has their own part they enjoy the most. Narrator: Each plate
costs around $1 to $2. And while plov is now a relatively cheap and ubiquitous meal in Uzbekistan, it wasn't always this way. Up until the 1930s, plov was mostly eaten by wealthy families and reserved for special occasions like holidays and weddings
for everyone else. Today, many Uzbeks eat plov
three to four times a week and sometimes skip the meat altogether. Narrator: Plov is adopted
from the Farsi ward "polo" and akin to the Turkish word "pilaf." The first-known recipe of plov is believed to come from
13th-century Persia, where it was adapted from a barley dish that used similar ingredients. Legend has it that Alexander
the Great was fed plov after he conquered modern-day Samarkand. He apparently loved the dish so much that he brought the
recipe back to Macedonia. By the 15th century,
several styles of pilaf had established themselves
in Central Asia, India, Turkey, and the Caribbean, where they remain a staple. While it's now a more common meal, plov is still the preferred
dish for Uzbek weddings. During weddings, guests generally help prepare the meal for everyone on a similar scale to Besh Qozon. Qozons on much smaller scales were first introduced by Turkish nomads and are now just as common in central Asia as a frying pan is in the West. While household qozons aren't as large, they can typically feed 12 to 15 people, and many families have
at least one larger qozon to feed large groups of guests. Despite countless varieties of plov, Besh Qozon Pilaf Center in Tashkent draws a faithful crowd. Narrator: Whether you call
it plov, pilaf, or pilau, the core ingredients of
this time-honored dish revolve around rice. And the one served at Besh Qozon is the ultimate sign of the
good life in Uzbekistan. Narrator: Every day, a team of chefs spend nearly 12 hours
stirring milk and sugar to make over 700 kilograms of halwa for the famous sweet
shop Chain Ji Halwa Wala. The sweet and soft milk-based dessert may be time-consuming to make, but people travel from all over to get it from Ji Halwa Wala. Narrator: While you can find
countless types of halwa all across India and throughout the world, this shop has continuously been praised for its dedication to the craft
and quality of ingredients. We visited the shop to
see why it is so famous and how it prepares gulab
halwa in such big batches. Chain Ji Halwa prepares three
batches of halwa every day at its production workshop
in Pali, Rajasthan, India. This process begins at 5
a.m. by fueling the furnace with the coal that piles
high up on the walls. Narrator: The coal comes
from mines in Jharkhand. And Chainsingh Rajpurohit,
owner of Chain Ji Wala, believes it gives the
dish a distinctive flavor. Narrator: Workers use mallets
to break each brick of coal into smaller pieces. Narrator: The dominant
ingredient in halwa is milk, which the shop sources
from nearby villages. To get the creamy taste and texture, only full-fat milk is used. The milk is then strained into kadais, which are deep pots similar to
woks, but with steeper sides. Narrator: The whole cooking process takes about four hours and a full staff. Four workers are dedicated
solely to the coals, while 10 to 12 chefs work on the furnaces. They use ladles to
continuously stir the milk for two to three hours until
it becomes thick and creamy. While the stirring movement
may seem simple enough, it actually takes a seasoned
chef to get it right. Narrator: Once the milk
reaches the right consistency, sugar is added. Narrator: And the stirring
doesn't stop there. The chefs will continue to
stir the milk-and-sugar mixture for another one to two hours. Narrator: Eventually,
the contents of 10 kadais are combined into four to
continue cooking slowly. Narrator: When the thickened
milk turns red and grainy and clarified butter starts
to appear on the surface, the halwa is finished cooking. Narrator: Workers scoop
8 kilograms of halwa into these individual round serving plates and pick out any burned bits with tongs. Narrator: As the final touch, each dish of halwa is
carefully decorated with vark. Narrator: When Chainsingh
started the shop in 2007, he sold about 20 to 30 kilograms
of halwa a day. But now ... Narrator: The shop,
which is very well known for its small, old table set up out front, sees about 500 to 600 customers every day. Narrator: Once they're at the table, customers can choose how
much they want to purchase. Narrator: Halwa is
believed to have originated in Arabia around the 13th century, but has since become an ubiquitous
dessert throughout India. The recipe varies from region to region, but some of the common
alternative ingredients include semolina, carrots,
almonds, and dates. But it seems like Chainsingh's
version of the dessert has won the hearts of all sweet lovers. Narrator: Over 160 kilograms
of meat, vegetables, and rice go into this massive pan to make one of the
biggest paellas in Spain. But this paella is just half of what Vicente Martínez and his team are making for Quesa, Valencia's,
Festival of the Reserve. At the end of the day, these paellas will feed
more than 1,000 people, all for free. But the size of this paella isn't the only thing that's special. It also has a unique ingredient that makes this paella
distantly Valencian. So, what does it take to make
paella in such big batches? Narrator: This is known as
the Festival of the Reserve. On the morning of the festival, Vicente and his crew offload and wheel two 2.35-meter paella
pans into the town square. When the pans are secure,
they get to cooking. Narrator: Each paella is cooked with 8.5 liters of olive oil, 75 kilos of chicken, and 30 kilos of rabbit. Narrator: When the meat is done, 40 kilos of frozen green
beans, butter beans, and white beans are added into the mix, along with 5 kilos of snails. Narrator: Once everything
is mixed together, 135 liters of water
are added into the pan. Narrator: After the water has been added, 60 kilos of a local medium-grain rice called arroz redondo
is tossed into the mix. Cooking with wood means
that the water and fire need to be constantly monitored so that the rice doesn't burn. Narrator: In Spain, bomba,
Albufera, and redondo rice are commonly used because they can absorb more liquid and flavor than regular rice without getting mushy. Narrator: Paella pans often
come in several diameters, but the general shape
is always wide, shallow, and round with sloping edges. This shape is important because it helps the rice
cook evenly in a single layer. Narrator: And many Spaniards agree. Narrator: While everyone enjoys paella, the exact ingredients for what constitutes a true paella is still hotly debated. Narrator: While the
festival is full of joy and celebration today, the origins of its birth are much darker. In 1690, Quesa experienced a devastating outbreak
of the bubonic plague, which left only a few members
of a single family alive. Resilient, the surviving
family gave shelter and food to anyone who moved back to Quesa. Narrator: Paella is thought to have come from farm workers in Valencia who used shallow pants to
cook rice over wood fires and added in ingredients
they could forage or hunt to create a cheap but
filling one-dish lunch. Over time, the elites of Spain started to enjoy paella
for weekday lunches, and it became more popular
across the country. And while paella is now recognized as a traditionally Spanish dish, it wouldn't be what it is today without the introduction of rice by the Moors in the 12th century. Since then, paella has taken on many iterations across Spain, but the classic ingredients
of rice, rabbit, snails, and beans remain integral for
making a Valencian paella. - Narrator: This is the Shantivan Complex, a mega kitchen in Mount Abu, Rajasthan belonging to the spiritual
organization Brahma Kumaris. The kitchen is run entirely by volunteers, who cook enough food to
feed 40,000 people a day. The operation spans four floors and includes 14 dining halls, which can seat 15,000 people at a time. We visited the complex during a special celebration called "Baba Milan" to see how it prepares these meals in such big batches. Work in the kitchen begins at 5:30 a.m. with hundreds of volunteers cutting vegetables and peeling steamed potatoes by hand. During Baba Milan, 2,500 volunteers prep and cook the festival meals. But that isn't something Bhanu Prakash, who's head of the bread department, is worried about. - Narrator: The cut vegetables are loaded onto crates and wheeled into the main kitchen, where they're washed again in large metal containers and strained. All of the vegetables the kitchen uses are seasonal and bought directly from farms. And the food is prepared following the sattvic diet, or the yogi diet, which is rooted in ayurvedic practices. Today the chefs are cooking rajma, vegetable sabzi, chapatis, and theplas. While most of the prep
work is done by hand, some vegetables are
processed using machines. Crates of tomatoes are pureed and spinach is chopped finely. On the other side of the kitchen, another team uses that tomato puree to make a sauce. They pour five liters of peanut oil into a giant pot. Then they mix in whole wheat flour, curry powder, handfuls of cumin seeds, asafoetida, bay leaves, and chili powder. Buckets of pureed
tomatoes are poured inside and tossed together with garam masala, a common Indian spice mixture. The chefs then scoop the sauce out with buckets and place it into large metal containers so it can be delivered to another section of the kitchen. The tomato sauce is rolled to Chef Nilesh Bhai, who has been working here for 17 years and is in charge of making rajma, a curried dish made with kidney beans. - Narrator: He soaks the kidney beans for 10 to 12 hours before boiling them in this pot for three hours. Once they're cooked, Nilesh uses a small scooper to examine the beans' tenderness and gauge the broth's consistency. When the beans pass the test, he tips the pot and
scoops in 400 kilograms of the tomato sauce. He then fills the pot with more water so it achieves the same consistency it had before the tomatoes. This is something Nilesh determines with his eye. On the side, he mixes oil, cumin, coriander, garam masala, asafoetida, gram flour, and chili powder into a bucket. He then pours this into the pot and adds salt. After he adds the first round of spices, he tastes the rajma and decides if it needs more flavor. Once Nilesh approves of the taste, he mixes in finely chopped spinach. - Narrator: Cooking all
of this food requires an immense amount of energy. Since 1990, the kitchen has used a concentrated solar array on top of its roof to heat water and generate steam, which can be used to cook most of the food the kitchen makes. The cooked rajma is drained through a spigot into smaller containers, which are then covered and wheeled to the dining halls. One of the most important dishes made in the kitchen is sabzi, a mixed-vegetable dish that varies depending on the vegetables
available that day. Cooks heat oil in a massive pot along with cumin seeds, curry leaves, and asafoetida. Next, they add turmeric, cut chilies, and chopped bottle gourd. They mix everything together before adding in chopped potatoes, scarlet gourd, and cauliflower. Then they add water and season the mix with salt and chili powder. Next come green beans, a pot full of tomato sauce, peas, cut green bell peppers, and shredded carrots. It's finished off with a
generous amount of salt. Like every other dish this kitchen serves, the vegetables are taste-tested and seasoned accordingly during the cooking process. Once the chef at hand gives the flavor a thumbs-up, the mixture is scooped
back into the metal pots and wheeled to the dining halls. Bread is essential to every meal. The bread department at
the Shantivan Complex can make up to 26,000 flatbreads every hour. To do so, bakers first pour 50-kilogram bags of flour into mechanical sifters to remove large clumps of flour. - Narrator: The sifted flour is then taken to mechanical mixers, where different types of dough are made. Today, the bread department is making two types of flatbreads, chapatis and theplas. The thepla dough is
made by combining water, whole-wheat flour, turmeric, chili powder, ground spinach, and fenugreek seed. Once mixed, the dough is wheeled to volunteers, who use their hands to roll it into palm-sized balls. These balls are then brought to a team of 200 rollers, who flatten them so they can be cooked. Chefs rub the flattened theplas with ghee and slap them onto flat griddles to cook. Together, this team can
make 20,000 theplas an hour. On the other side of the bread department, machines are used to make
chapatis without fillings. The dough is top-loaded into the machines, which chop, flatten, and bake it into crispy chapatis. - Narrator: Like everything
else that gets cooked here, the breads are placed
inside metal containers to keep warm and wheeled to the
dining halls for guests. In the dining halls, the rajma is served with rice, chapatis, and bhindi masala, a side dish made of okra and spices. During Baba Milan, the hindu god Shiva, who is recognized as the father of souls, is believed to visit practitioners. - Narrator: Many of the devotees have been coming here for years. - Narrator: Imbuing the food with positive intention is one of the biggest responsibilities during the cooking process. Narrator: Every weekend, Samgeori Farms in Damyang County, South Korea, cooks 1,700 pounds of
chicken and vegetables inside of their 40 wood-fueled woks. The final result: dakbokkeumtang, a spicy chicken stew full of
potatoes, onions, and carrots and a secret chili sauce. Narrator: We visited chef Kim Chun-gu and his crew of 21 cooks
to see what it takes to make dakbokkeumtang
in such big batches. Cooking this dish begins
at 9 a.m. on Saturday. Workers coat the tops
of 20-kilogram iron woks with soybean oil and add
handfuls of dried oak into the base of the grills. Narrator: When the grills are ready, workers use propane torches
to light the wood on fire. After five minutes, the woks reach their optimal temperature and an entire bucket of
the dakbokkeumtang mixture is poured inside. Narrator: While maintaining
the wood fire is challenging, it's worth the flavorful payoff. Narrator: Oakwood has a smokier flavor than apple and cherrywood, with a lighter taste compared
to hickory and mesquite woods. It also burns at a high temperature without emitting too much smoke. Even though this dish
is cooked on high heat, it still takes a while to cook. Narrator: Thinly cut onions
are added into the wok and cooked for a minute. At 11 a.m., the first
batch of dakbokkeumtang is ready to be served. Workers wheel the woks out
to the customers' tables and scoop the stew into metal bowls. And a single order costs around $55. Narrator: Samgeori Farms
opened three years ago, and since then, business has
centered around one dish. Preparing for a weekend of cooking starts early in the morning, cutting vegetables and
chicken in the kitchen. Narrator: The restaurant uses
around 600 sweet potatoes, potatoes, and carrots every weekend, along with 1,000 green onions and onions. Narrator: But the most
important part of the dish is the locally sourced chicken. Narrator: Once the chicken and vegetables have been chopped and
added into the buckets, it's time for the most
important part of the dish, the secret seasoning. Narrator: The bright-red
gochugaru and gochujang paste help create the dish's signature color and spicy red-pepper flavor, while the red wine helps
get rid of the meaty smell. Narrator: Dakbokkeumtang has been a staple of Korean cooking since the 20th century, following the mass production
of poultry in the country. And while chicken might be
a fairly new ingredient, the famous red chili has been grown and eaten in Korea for over 1,000 years. The stew used to be called dakdoritang, containing the Japanese
word for chicken, dori. The National Institute of
Korean Language decided to change it to dakbokkeumtang, literally translating to
"stir-fried chicken soup." Today, it's typically
served with white kimchi, cucumber pickles, and chive pancakes. And in some cases, there
is a bonus at the end. At Samgeori Farms, when most
of the dish has been served, the remaining sauce is pushed back into the center of the wok. Ramen noodles are added in and enjoyed, so nothing goes to waste.
