In the U.S., South Asian food is quickly becoming more easily accessible and better understood, which has helped propel the growing appetite for regional flavors among Western consumers.  Thankfully, young entrepreneurs from countries like India, Sri Lanka, and Pakistan, as well as first- and second-generation South Asian Americans, have begun to share their love and passion for the foods they grew up with by bringing their own essential pantry staples to market. Fourteen years ago, when I immigrated to Upstate New York from Pakistan for culinary school, finding high-quality chaat masala and achaar was nearly impossible. I would bring chai back in my suitcase with me whenever I took a trip home. Now, with a click of a button, I can easily stock my shelves with all my favorites from anywhere in the country—and even trace my spices right back to the South Asian farms they came from.

I’ve pulled together some of my favorite new South Asian food businesses below. All are deserving of your attention and support for bringing super-fresh spices, vibrant condiments, and aromatic teas to a national audience. So if you want to recreate that cup of masala chai you had at your favorite local Indian restaurant, elevate your cheeseboard with some new spreads and preserves, or are just looking for a great new hot sauce to spice up your morning scramble, these brands prove that South Asia is a great place to start.

The Sampler Pack by Sach Food

Most of the packaged paneers available in the U.S. are rubbery and squeaky between the teeth, but not this one from Sach (pronounced “such”) Foods. Born from the need for high-quality protein, the two vegetarian founders are Indian immigrants who couldn’t find a version of the firm fresh cheese they had back home, so they decided to make their own. The California brand’s sampler pack includes three flavors—plain which is great for any application, Spicy Habanero, which I love in eggs, and Turmeric Twist, which is my aunt’s favorite in saag paneer. Made with organic, grass-fed milk, Sach’s cheese is exceptionally creamy and smooth, yet still firm enough to hold its shape when cooked. Try it marinated and cooked on the grill, lightly battered and pan-fried for paneer pakoras, or simmered in a light tomato gravy for ruangan chaman. Or just eat it like me and my daughter do, thinly sliced and layered on toast with jam.

Sweet Clarity by House of Waris

Whether it’s to start the day, to rebound from the mid-afternoon slump, or as a soothing end to a long shift or a big meal—anytime, really—a cup of tea is a non-negotiable in South Asian homes. Bringing his Indian heritage to House of Waris, actor, designer, and Brooklynite Waris Ahluwalia is advocating for tea as an important form of self-care, and a moment to slow down. My favorite is the brand’s Sweet Clarity herbal blend. Loaded with roots and spices including tulsi, rhodiola, and ginger which are traditionally used to treat brain fog, fatigue, stress, and circulation issues, I find it to be a flavorful, caffeine-free alternative to coffee after lunch.

Panjiri by Babo Concept Kitchen

Traditionally eaten by women in Pakistan and India for nourishment and recovery after childbirth, panjiri is now widely consumed throughout South Asia by anyone in need of healing, energy, or for those looking to keep their body warm in cold weather. The sweet, dry crumble is made with nuts, ghee, sugar, and warm spices such as cumin. Homemade panjiri, easily found in the subcontinent, was hard to find in the West when I became a mother, and so the accessibility of Babo’s fresh and balanced panjiri is thrilling. A small business from California, Babo is owned by Rubab Waheed, a self-taught cook who prepares traditional Pakistani foods with a modern sensibility. The mix is typically eaten with a spoon, or by the palmfull, however, I’ve found it also works nicely in Western applications as well. Try it as a filling for cinnamon rolls, sprinkle it over yogurt or ice cream, or swirl it into your cookie doughs.

Luminous Capsule by Brightland

Honey is a culinary and medicinal staple in South Asia, where it’s widely used to soothe sore and scratchy throats, and sweeten teas, breads, and other dishes. Aishwarya Iyer, a Californian with Indian heritage, initially launched Brightland as a premium olive oil company, but I’m particularly taken with the brand’s orange blossom honey. With its subtle savory notes, and delicate citrus, caramel, and floral aromas, it’s extremely versatile in the kitchen. Add it to dressings, marinades, drinks, or like me, enjoy it right out of the jar by the spoonful. You can either buy this honey paired with a darker Hawaiian version, or as a part of the Luminous Capsule set, which includes a bottle of Brightland’s robust, extra-virgin olive oil and a citrus-scented chardonnay vinegar.

Tomato Achaar by Brooklyn Delhi 

Often used to elevate the simplest dahls, tomato achaar is an essential pickled condiment in Indian and Pakistani homes, where it’s typically handmade. Loaded with the usual aromatic suspects—turmeric, garlic, tamarind—and of course, tomatoes, Brooklyn Delhi’s achaar has just the right balance of sweetness, salt, acidity, and savoriness. Started by cookbook author and Saveur contributor, Chittra Agrawal, the New York brand specializes in plant-based condiments and sauces which I like to add to soups, eggs, or even pasta. You can find these fresh and flavorful products in national grocery stores, including Whole Foods, local specialty markets, or online.

Teeno Bundle by Peepal People

Translating to “bundle of three,” Peepal People’s Teeno Bundle is a great way to sample everything from this Pakistani-owned Texas brand. From the mild and mellow to fiery, the family-run business has tried to fill the gap of South Asian flavors in a familiar American form: bottled hot sauces. Hot sauces as we know them here are not found in Pakistan, but spice and chile heat most definitely are. By combining traditional Pakistani achaar-making techniques with Texas-grown chiles, Peepal People has created an easy-to-love range of condiments that crosses cultural borders. Try these sauces in marinades, over chicken, or even in ramen. The mildest blend, Hara Bhara has bright green flavors that shine in beans and lentils. The spiciest, Bhoot Bangla (which, hilariously, translates to “haunted house”), is loaded with ghost chiles and draws further sharpness from lots of garlic; it’s not for the faint of heart and is best reserved for hearty dishes like steak and barbecue. My favorite, though, is their Peela Patakha sauce, which splits the difference with a moderate heat and boasts beautiful floral, and pepper-forward flavors that go well on eggs. The latter is sold out at the moment, but keep an eye out because it’s due back in stock in July.

Immunity Essentials by Atina Foods

Founded by Suresh Pillai and Carrie Dashow, in New York’s Catskills, Atina Foods’ recipes are rooted in Ayurvedic practices, where food is considered medicine. Suresh is from Kerala, India, the home of Ayurveda, and he brings to his brand years traveling, and knowledge from the women in his family. Atina’s Immunity Essentials box includes three incredibly versatile herbal jams and pickles featuring antioxidant-rich Ayurvedic powerhouse ingredients believed to boost immunity and protect against inflammation. The Turmeric-Ginger Jam is great for elevating a cheeseboard or your morning yogurt, while the Inji Puli (a ginger-tamarind herbal jam) shines in both sweet and savory applications—think topping a chocolate cake, or mixing into mayo for your next sandwich. The Garlic Scape Pickle is great for finishing simple, fresh dishes like pan-fried fish or pasta. Lastly, the box also includes an Indian-style pickling kit with instructions, for whenever inspiration hits at home. Contrasting and layered flavors of sweet, salty, and savory, the package was made for the holidays, but really is an evergreen gift.

The 6 Pack Masala Collection by Spicewalla (6 pack Masala, Aleppo, Ajwain, Black Cardamom)

Where do I go when I’m looking for beautiful whole spices or hard-to-find powdered blends? Spicewalla, founded by Indian-born and Asheville, North Carolina-based chef Meherwarn Irani.  Irani is a restaurant-owner and a core member of Brown in the South, a series of pop-up dinners celebrating Indian chefs who have made the American South their home. His spice company, Spicewalla, offers dozens of options, all packaged in small containers, which ensure your pantry is always stocked with fresh, flavorful ingredients. The Six-Pack Masala Collection includes some great classics to get you started. Stir the tandoori masala into yogurt for a fantastic lamb chop marinade, sprinkle the chaat masala over hot french fries, steep the chai masala in your next pot of tea, use the garam masala to perfume a pot of biryani, and add the pakora masala to the batter for my asparagus pakoras. The mild, Madras-style curry powder is wonderful added to soups and stews.

Original Chai Concentrate by One Stripe Chai

You’re probably already familiar with cold brew coffee concentrate, but chai concentrate? Genius. Farah Jesani, Chief Chai Officer of Portland, Oregon’s One Stripe Chai, created this tea concentrate for chai drinkers on the go. Her Indian heritage means she’s a tea drinker, and she created her business so she could find a pre-made blend that was neither bland nor too sweet. The chic glass bottle holds enough for 8 cups of chai, which can be easily mixed either hot or cold. Pre-sweetened with honey and jaggery, and brewed with black Assam tea, it’s a great solution for anyone looking for a quick and un-fussy cup. Try it as a midday pick-me-up, or for that first jolt of caffeine in the morning.

Turmeric Latte by Kola Goodies

Sajani Amarsiri founded Kola Goodies to bring the flavors of her home country, Sri Lanka, closer to her in San Francisco. In recent years, thanks to a plethora of purported health benefits, turmeric milk has exploded in popularity in the Western wellness world, so she decided to offer this traditional South Asian drink and other milk-based Sri Lankan beverages in a convenient just-add-water form. With cinnamon and turmeric sourced from Sri Lanka, and ashwagandha, a plant traditionally used to treat stress, this turmeric latte is particularly flavorful and soothing.

Pantry Refresh by Diaspora Co. 

When she moved from Mumbai to California, Sana Javeri Kadri quickly realized the need for an equitable spice trade, so she began Diaspora Co. an online source for 30 single-origin spices that can be traced right back to the people who grew them. If you’re curious about the brand but don’t know where to start, I suggest the Pantry Refresh. This set includes my own two kitchen essentials—medium-heat chile powder, and ground turmeric—as well as black mustard seeds, ground ginger, (which I love for baking,) coriander seed, and my absolute favorite, the versatile and floral black pepper.

The post Stock Your Pantry Like a Seasoned South Asian Cook appeared first on Saveur.

Idli, South India’s savory breakfast cake, is made from a mixture of rice and lentils which are soaked in water, ground, and fermented. The resulting tangy batter is then poured into a mold, steamed, and served with assorted spices and chutneys. This version, named for the particular plate-shaped mold in which it is steamed, comes from the southwestern state of Karnataka and is fluffier, flatter, and wider than the more common, smaller, lozenge-shaped idli. Order a thatte idli maker with 8-inch plates online, or position a deep, heatproof plate in a wok or wide skillet with a tight-fitting lid to approximate the effect.

If you are preparing the batter in a cool climate, its fermentation may be sped along by placing the bowl in an oven with the pilot light on or a dehydrator set to low. For the podi, check out our guide to roasting garlic.

Featured in: “The Revival of an Under-the-Radar Idli from Kerala.”

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Eid al-Fitr is special for many reasons, the biggest one being the end of Ramadan. The holy month of fasting, Ramadan is all about will-power, charity, and prayer. Observant Muslims begin the month with good intent, and end with gratitude and—of course—plenty of food. 

Eid is celebrated all over the Muslim world, with family and friends coming together to exchange gifts, sweets, envelopes of cash, and food. In Pakistan, we enjoy a well-deserved breakfast of chana masala with fresh puris or sheer khurma (I’m a fan of South Carolina-based chef Maryam Ghaznavi’s silky, saffron-scented version). We wear our finest attire, go to the mosque for a special prayer, remember those who have passed, and spend the day eating and visiting our loved ones. 

All Muslim cultures around the world celebrate Eid a little differently. In Southeast Asia, you’ll find parades, music, and fireworks; in Singapore, plates are filled with little pastries made with pandan and coconut called kuih. And across the globe in Tunisia, preparations start days before, with fresh baklava, and dancing and singing in the evening.

Animal sacrifice is also a widespread Eid tradition, so the day’s feasts are often filled with stews and grilled meats, especially goat, as seen in the korma RASA co-founder Sahil Rahman’s Aunty makes. But equal importance is placed on sweets and desserts, to “sweeten your mouth” in celebration. 

As much as indulgence and abundant tables are encouraged after a month of abstaining, so too is charity and the act of giving. Donating to a local mosque, and distributing food and money—so that everyone can join in the joy and fill their hearts and stomachs—is the hallmark of Eid al-Fitr. Whether you’re celebrating with family or friends, here are some of our favorite Eid recipes to tuck into during this festive time of the year.

Khan Plov (Chicken Pilaf in a Lavash Crust)

Like many rice pilafs from the region, this one is spattered with saffron-infused water to create patches of fragrant yellow rice. The whole pilaf is wrapped in butter-saturated lavash to create a crispy, golden-brown casing that’s cracker thin. Get the recipe >

Lamb and Cauliflower Stew with Harissa

This warming lamb stew with Tunisian red chile paste makes use of the whole head of cauliflower: The flavorful stems are minced and sauteed along with the mirepoix, while the florets—broiled and added at the end—lend crunch and body. Get the recipe >

Ka’ak bil Ma’amoul (Date-Stuffed Ring Cookies)

These holiday cookies are flavored with orange blossom water and stuffed with a sweet date filling. Get the recipe >

Sabzi Polo ba Tahdig-e Mahi (Herbed Rice with Fish Tahdig)

When they come in contact with the bottom of the pot at the correct heat, the pair of whole fish in this dish will form a crispy skin amid the tahdig and infuse the surrounding rice with extra flavor. Get the recipe >

Rogan Josh

Smoky red Kashmiri chile powder and rich ghee are the foundations of this recipe from Ahdoo’s Hotel in Srinagar, Kashmir. Cooked for weddings and other auspicious occasions, the Kashmiri feast wazwan can include up to 36 dishes, often including these tender lamb shanks. The cooks who prepare the banquet are supervised by a wouste waze, or master chef, schooled in the art of this meat-centric meal. Get the recipe >

Sheer Khurma

Chef Maryam, of Malika Canteen, has kept up the traditions she grew up with, and continues to celebrate with the classics for Eid. Sheer Khurma is a delicate, milk based dish, traditionally enjoyed on Eid morning, after prayers, and also all-day by the guests streaming in and out of the house. Get the recipe >

Shahi Qorma

Shahi translates to royal and originating from the Mughal Empire in South Asia, qorma was the dish made in the Mughal kitchens. Made with goat, chicken, or simply, with vegetables, qorma is now associated with celebrations. Get the recipe >

Chelo ba Tahdig (Steamed Saffron Rice with Tahdig)

Cookbook author Naz Deravian’s chelo ba tahdig recipe calls for the traditional two-step method of Persian rice preparation—parboil, then add just enough fat to the bottom of the pot to turn out (fingers crossed) a crispy, crunchy tahdig. Get the recipe >

Persian Almond Cake with Saffron and Rose Water

This recipe is adapted from Cooking in Iran: Regional Recipes & Kitchen Secrets author Najmieh Batmangli, who describes how a friend’s mother in Yazd, Iran, used to make the treats with aromatic pussy willow flowers, which she would spread across a tray of ground almonds, flavoring the nuts with their sweet fragrance. Get the recipe >

Halwa

Halwa, a crumbly, pudding-like confection, is enjoyed by many cultures across India and beyond, and may be made with a wide range of different ingredients. Get the recipe >

Chana Masala

Chana Masala is a simple chickpea stew with many variations, eaten by a multitude of people across India. This recipe comes from author Suketu Mehta, who wrote about the dish for our 150th issue. Get the recipe >

Puri

Like chapati, puri is made from a simple durum wheat flour dough. But this flatbread incorporates ajwain seeds, which lend a lightly herbal, floral flavor, and is deep-fried in hot oil. Get the recipe >

Saffron Fried Fish with Herbed Tahdig Rice

This Nowruz staple comes to us courtesy of Darioush Wines co-founder Shahpar Khaledi, who likes to pair the traditional, saffron-scented Persian fish and crispy herbed tahdig with her family’s Napa Valley chardonnay, merlot, or their earthy and light-bodied Russian River Valley pinot noir. Get the recipe >

Cashew Baklava

Instead of making large trays of layered baklava squares, Chef Michael Solomonov of Zahav rolls a filling of cashews (his favorite nut) and brown sugar in phyllo into long, smooth cigars, the perfect snack-size sweets. Get the recipe >

Dumbay ki Nihari

A rich, spicy stew topped with bright cilantro leaves, a squeeze of citrus, and thin-sliced hot chiles, nihari is the ultimate comfort food for home cook and Lahore native Zainab Shah, whose mother makes this dish for her and her family. Get the recipe >

The post 15 Eid Recipes for a Decadent and Festive End of Ramadan appeared first on Saveur.

In her new book, On The Himalayan Trail: Recipes and Stories from Kashmir to Ladakh, British Indian chef Romy Gill shares the earthy and extraordinary dishes she encountered as part of her journey to the famously remote region in 2021. Merging a travelogue with a cookbook, Gill—who has appeared on the BBC’s “Ready Steady Cook” and was honored by Queen Elizabeth II with an MBE award—brings the backstory of each dish to life by spotlighting snippets of conversation and portraits of the people she met along the way.

When I was a child in India, growing up in West Bengal, we were the first family on our street to get a television—an enormous black-and-white affair. Occasionally, we would invite neighbors and friends round to watch Bollywood movies. These were mostly filmed in Kashmir, the valley that was once the summer capital of the Mughal—which straddles the Himalayas, bordered by Pakistan to the north and west, and China to the east. With its stunningly beautiful lakes, snow-capped mountains, and rolling meadows, the landscape looked like paradise. It was partly these movies that were responsible for my fascination with the remote state, one of the many, varied parts—each with their own distinct culture—that define the “real India.” Kashmir felt like a foreign country to me, and I longed to visit.

It wasn’t just the lofty mountains and rolling valleys that captured my imagination: the people and the food also had a huge part to play. My father, Santokh Singh Sandhu, worked in a steel plant with colleagues from across India, including several families from Kashmir, with whom we shared numerous meals and celebrations. It meant that I learned a huge amount about their culture, their religion, their food, their language, and their values. Every year, just before winter came, Kashmiri traders would also visit our township with shawls, carpets, dried fruits, and apples to sell. I have fond memories of my mother stocking up on purchases.

Now, as a professional chef, Kashmir intrigues me for even more reasons: the various ways of living, speaking, and feasting, and the different rituals ingrained into everyday life. Unlike other places in India, Kashmir is largely untouched by foreign and domestic tourists, primarily because of its political situation. In 1947, with the partition of India, both India and Pakistan tried to lay claim to Kashmir. Since then, fighting over the region has continued, and in 1990, the introduction of new powers for the military led to great government mistrust. As a result, over 70,000 Kashmiri Pandits fled, and continued to do so for the next decade. With so much political uncertainty in the region, its cuisine and culture is increasingly difficult to access—but I strongly believe that it’s a cuisine and culture the world should know more about. It was important to travel the parts unknown. 

In recent years I’ve learned more and more about my home country through my travels to places like Leh, the Andaman and Nicobar Islands, and Himachal. I’ve enjoyed the chance to eat, cook, and learn about food in the company of local people and see the region through their eyes. So, when I finally decided to travel to Kashmir to work on the book, it would be no different.

I knew it wouldn’t be an easy trip to plan. It was April 2021, and the COVID-19 pandemic had the world in its grip: every country had its own travel restrictions and its own regulations once you got there. Returning to India at a time when the country’s ever-increasing case rates and deaths were making global headlines was certainly a risk—but still, I was desperate to make the journey.

Anthony Bourdain once said, “If I’m an advocate for anything, it’s to move. As far as you can, as much as you can. Across the ocean, or simply across the river. […] Walk in someone else’s shoes, or at least eat their food—it’s a plus for everybody.” Great things never come from staying in your comfort zone. So, I took the plunge, spurred on by Bourdain’s words and my vision. As a chef, the trip was an education. The scenery, the people, the traditions, the love—and, of course, the food—all came together to create a truly incredible experience.

I was in Srinagar—a large city on the banks of the Jhelum River—when I met Amit, a man who my chef friend Thomas had introduced me to. Formerly a doctor, Amit left medicine and now runs a communications agency, and Thomas knew he had connections and knowledge that would serve me well in getting to know the region, its people, its food, and its culture.

When I finally got the opportunity to visit Amit’s house for lunch and meet him and his family for the first time, I was showered with a proper Kashmiri Pandit vegetarian feast: hearty dum aloo (baby potatoes in a thick, yogurt-based gravy with plenty of fennel), Kashmiri haakh (simple greens, which retain a little bite and feature just a hint of chili), katte baigan (a tamarind-infused aubergine dish), paneer kyalia (curd cheese with aromatic spices), and nadru yakhni (lotus stems in an aromatic yogurt gravy), all served with mooli chutney and rice.

Throughout the meal, I chatted with Amit about Kashmir’s food, people, and beauty. He told me about his family’s history: his grandfather was Hridai Nath Wanchoo, who was known as the most important human rights activist in Kashmir, and worked tirelessly to improve workers’ rights, healthcare provision, and more. On Dec. 5, 1992, the day before activists attacked and demolished the Babri Masjid mosque in Ayodhya, Wanchoo was assassinated. In the three days following his death, Kashmir all but closed down as people gathered to pay their respects. Even after what happened to Amit’s family, they stood their ground and remained in Kashmir, unlike many others who fled the region in the 1990s.

After our glorious—and thought-provoking—lunch, Amit took us to meet a team of wazas (specially trained chefs), who were cooking for a party. Preparation for a wazwan is time-consuming and labor-intensive, and care must be taken to get everything just right. Each waza had their own part to play in creating the feast, much like a group of musicians coming together to play a piece of orchestral music. I was overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and smells of all the big pots cooking. It whetted my appetite, despite the fact I had just eaten—so, of course, I sampled most of the dishes. 

As we all know, no matter how full we feel after a big meal, there is always room for a little more. 

Reprinted from On the Himalayan Trail: Recipes and Stories from Kashmir to Ladakh by Romy Gill with permission by Hardie Grant, 2022.

Recipes

Halwa (Semolina Pudding with Nuts)

Get the recipe >

Ruangan Chaman (Kashmiri-Style Paneer in Tomato Gravy)

Get the recipe >

The post For Chef Romy Gill, the Allure of Kashmir’s Cuisine Was Worth the Epic Journey appeared first on Saveur.

Chef Maryam Ghaznavi of Mount Pleasant, South Carolina’s Malika Canteen, keeps alive many of the Pakistani culinary traditions she grew up with in Saudi Arabia. Among them are many of the dishes she and her family enjoyed in celebration of Eid al-Fitr, the end of the month of fasting, Ramadan. Sheer khurma is a delicate milk-based pudding, traditionally enjoyed on Eid morning, after prayers, and throughout the day by the guests streaming in and out of the house. The ratio of noodle-to-milk is personal, with some versions thick and spoonable, while others like it soupy and milky. For this version, Ghaznavi has also substituted the traditional raisins with rich medjool dates. The khurma is traditionally enjoyed warm, but is just as delicious straight out of the fridge.

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Originating in South Asia’s Mughal Empire, korma (also spelled “qorma”) was frequently  prepared in royal Mughal kitchens. These days, made with goat, chicken, or simply vegetables, korma is typically associated with celebrations. Sahil Rahman, co-founder of the Washington, DC Indian restaurant, Rasa, loves to eat his Dolly Auntie’s goat korma for Eid—so much so that the holiday is incomplete without it in the Rahman household. Eaten with rice or naan, the stew is thoughtfully layered with warm spices including green and black cardamom, cumin, clove, and cinnamon. There’s also the addition of black cumin seed, a darker, thinner, and sweeter cousin of the more common brown cumin which is easily found in South Asian markets or specialty stores like Kalustyan’s. What sets this dish apart from more everyday South Asian stews is the addition of yogurt, which results in a luscious, soul-filling mouthful.

We’ve adjusted Dolly Auntie’s recipe here for use in an Instapot, but feel free to cook it traditionally—low and slow on the stove—or how Auntie likes to make it, using a pressure cooker. Just make sure to keep an eye on the heat and adjust as needed as the stew cooks.

The post Shahi Goat Korma appeared first on Saveur.

Meher Mirza’s mother’s burnished Parsi curry is thickened and enriched with poppy seeds and gram flour. The gravy’s sourness is coaxed from tomatoes and tamarind rather than the more popular kokum fruit, while cashews, pounded to a paste, add a creaminess that slakes the scald of fresh and dried chiles. This prawn curry is always served with fresh lime and kachumber—a salad of fresh onions, cucumber, and tomato jounced with vinegar and salt and scalpel-sharp green chile.

Featured in: “Indian Curry is Largely “Unmappable”—But This Writer Found Her Way Home Through One Recipe.”

Chicken and Prawn Curry

Characteristic of the region’s curries, this intensely spicy one from chef Kevin Joseph of Durban’s The Oyster Box hotel gets its heat not from chiles, but pastes made of fresh garlic, ginger, and onions, plus lots of curry powder. Get the recipe for Chicken and Prawn Curry »

The post Mum’s Red Prawn Curry appeared first on Saveur.

Many bitter foods have been cast out of the good graces of the Western world, but not in India, where all are afforded parity in the country’s culinary landscape. 

No matter where you go in the subcontinent, bitterness is grained deep into the culture. Fenugreek seeds and leaves (both fresh and dried into kasuri methi), bitter gourd, spinach, guar beans, papdi (hyacinth bean), and vaal (field beans) are staples, but you will also find the leaves of the neem plant, night jasmine, pointed gourd, and amaranth, amongst others. It is likely that this affinity grew spontaneously; many plants, such as the bitter gourd, the neem, and the guar bean are indigenous to the country. Ayurveda also had a hand to play. 

Across India, bitter foods are friend and salve, powerhouses of nutrients, and often rich in fiber. Sometimes, the health is besides the point; the brace of bitterness that sluices our taste buds is these ingredients’ most enduring appeal. 

Indians consider bitterness a crucial building block of flavor. Sometimes it stands in solitude without any accompaniment, as with a finely-sliced bitter gourd or with neem leaves, spiced and deep-fried to crisp. Other times, it is one within a symphony of flavor, as with the tenebrous acridity of papri (hyacinth beans) piercing unctuous, ghee-steeped mutton kebabs. Sometimes, it works the other way round, the bitterness of toasted fenugreek seed puncturing the monochrome sweetness of a vegetable like pumpkin. Bitterness has so many shades and partners; each community finds its own way. 

Even a cursory mapping of ancient Indian writings shows that bitter foods are unshiftably ensconced in the Indian kitchen. The first in this roll call of texts is bitter gourd, mentioned in the Vedas as well as in Jain literature that stretches back to 400 BCE. The gourd has even inspired febrile flights of fancy: the Ksemakutuhalam (a 1550 Sanskrit treatise on diet and health) refers to that vegetable as “an emerald without and a coral within.” Similarly, our dalliance with fenugreek goes way back. Native to southern Europe and mentioned in literature written as far back as 800 BCE, remnants of the plant have even been excavated from the littered ruins of Harappa, a South Asian Bronze Age civilization that flowered around 4,500 years ago. 

But bitter foods are perhaps most reified by Ayurveda; a philosophy that holds resonance with some Indians even today. Ayurveda looks at the pantry as pharmacopeia, believing that when the humors become imbalanced, they lead to disease (this is contested of course by modern medicine). “The treatments using food are based on the six tastes (‘rasa’ in Sanskrit)—sweet, sour, salty, pungent, bitter and astringent,” writes restaurateur Camellia Panjabi in The Great Curries of India… Foods with bitter taste eliminate bacterial elements, purify the blood and are light on digestion.” This purported ease of digestion makes these ingredients popular summer or monsoon-season foods. 

For tongues that might find bitter flavors aberrant, consider these simple dishes as an entry point, before abseiling into the cavernous repertoire of bitter vegetable recipes.  

Steep finely sliced bitter gourd or spinach leaves in a gram flour batter, then deep fry until the fritters grow gold and crisp. Work chopped fenugreek leaves into paratha dough (then mix and match your methi paratha with knobs of your favorite pickle and a scoop of fresh yogurt.) Or you might sauté some spinach or fenugreek leaves with tomato, onion, turmeric and chili powder until they wrinkle, then fork them into a cup of cooked toor dal. When confronted with sweetness, bitterness yields its belligerence. Maharashtrian fenugreek curry, for example, pools vaal beans with coconut, kokum fruit, and jaggery. Caramelized onions perform the same function for the Kayasth community’s bharwa karela (lightly browned onions stuffed in the cleft of a whole bitter gourd), as does the oblique sweetness of coconut flesh, by way of Kerala’s pavakkai (bitter gourd) thoran. 

Meat mates well with it too. Sadia Dehlvi writes about the conviviality shared between bitter gourd and ground lamb (“qeema” or “keema” or “kheemo”) in her book Jasmines and Jinns: “Karela qeema is my favourite qeema and I make it all through the summer months, when karela and raw mango are in plenty…Most friends try it for the first time in my home and seem to love it.” Similarly, the Parsi community tames the bellicosity of the bitter papri (hyacinth bean) and its seeds with minced mutton kebabs, which are dipped in egg and breadcrumbs, then fried. 

Less commonly, bitterness is constrained with legumes, as with the Maharashtrian methichi usal (sprouted fenugreek curry), which marries fenugreek seeds with toor dal (pigeon peas), jaggery, and coconut. Sometimes, bitterness is just a spectral taste, like in a lime peel pickle tasselled with salt and spice. 

For those who wish it, there are many ways to flush the bitterness from a plant: a trickle of salt or a long soak in brine usually helps. But mostly the triumph of a bitter dish comes through its accompaniments. Each dish must have a companionable balance of flavors, rather than a jostle of contrapuntal tastes thrown together pell-mell. Bitterness acts as a fine foil to the pucker of acidity, the sting of salt, and the plush of sweetness.  

But often, the bitterness is the point of a dish—a taste to be treasured on its own, uneroded by palliating flavors. 

Parsis do nothing to allay the bite of fenugreek leaves in their bhaji dana; they choose the small-leaved varieties, then cook it with a splatter of green peas. The greens are shot through with ginger-garlic paste, flayed with chile, then gentled with caramelized onions. The more carnivorous might also fork in pieces of mutton to make bhaji dana ma gos. In Assam, teetaphool (orange-crimson bitter flowers) are tossed in batter and crisp-fried. In Bengal, bitterness is almost a cultural signifier; few communities are as prodigious eaters of bitter foods as the Bengalis. In Bengali Cooking: Seasons and Festivals, Chitrita Banerji writes about how belief in the specific attributes of different foods has long flourished in Bengal “because of a long tradition of Ayurvedic medicine practised by local physicians….The association of healthy properties with a bitter taste and the subsequent appreciation of that bitterness as a taste is a Bengali peculiarity that outsiders find incomprehensible.” She also credits its popularity to the charismatic Bengali founder of the vegetarian equality-and-non-violence-driven Bhakti movement, Chaitanya, who was fond of dishes containing shukuta (dried neem leaves). There are so many bitter Bengali recipes: neembegun (eggplant fried with neem leaves), tetor dal (mung dal with crisped bitter gourd), ucche bhaja (fried rings of bitter gourd). But perhaps the best known one is the shukto. 

Shukto is a mixed vegetable dish eaten as a sort of starter for the midday meal. “Shukto’s unique value is based on the gastronomic theory that it prepares the tongue and stomach for the courses that follow,” Banerji writes. It is a covenant of reciprocity, the bitterness of the gourd (or neem leaves, or patol, the climbing gourd) palliated with eggplant, white radish, green banana, potato, green papaya, or even fish. Shukto offers tremendous leeway, yet each ingredient must serve to edify the other. Only an experienced cook can know the exact pitch of bitterness that makes an excellent shukto, that “balance between the bitterness of the vegetables and the seasonings, which include ground ginger, poppy-seed paste, and the typical Bengali five-spice mix called panch phoron,” as Banerji notes. Ghee, the final tile in the mosaic, is spooned in just before the dish is lifted from the flames. 

“You won’t find shukto coexisting with chicken tikka masala in Indian restaurants abroad,” writes Banerji. “Even in Bengal, it is essentially a home-cooked item.” And so it is with all these dishes. It isn’t restaurant food, tweezered and bowdlerized to make it palatable to the coddled tongue. Bitter foods resist conformity; they refuse to be constrained by the choke-collar of popular opinion with its bias towards sour, savory, and sweet flavors. They are aberrant pockets of comfort, Banerji writes in The Hour of the Goddess, “the perfect representation of the intersection of tastes, which lends mystery and delight to food.”

Recipes

Parsi-Style Karela Ma Kheemo

This recipe will quickly convert bitter gourd haters to fans. Get the recipe for Parsi-style Karela Ma Kheemo »

Bhaji Dana

Eat this highly versatile dish of fenugreek leaves on its own, with a cooked egg on top, or as a side dish with chicken or lamb. Get the recipe for Bhaji Dana »

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“Chaats are a mighty snack that tell India’s culinary story more adeptly than any other food,” writes Nashville-based Indian chef Maneet Chauhan in her recent cookbook, Chaat. In the book, she recalls a fruity street snack sold by a chaat vendor near the Hyderabadi train station. Sweet pineapple, tangy lime juice, sour-salty chaat masala, chile powder, cilantro, and pomegranate seeds created what she describes as “a decadent mosaic of colors and plucky flavors.” Chauhan suggests adapting her version of the pineapple recipe to use ripe mango or watermelon when in season, or drizzling the finished dish with lightly salted yogurt for added richness and depth. Serve as a snack, or as a side dish for barbecued meats or seafood.

Featured in “Our Favorite Fruit Snack.”

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