Memory is a tricky thing. No one knows exactly how the original memories are formed, or what the brain can remember, years later. But we know that once the mind takes hold of something—maybe a taste, the taste of food made with love—no power on earth can shake it.
Perhaps this is why many Indians who have lived away from their home towns miss their community’s food the most. The farther from home, the stronger the desire. Restaurants help, but only so much – their generic recipes, and substitutions of hard-to-source ingredients often make things worse. “For many years, the representation of Dum Aalu and Rogan Josh in big cities worried me,” says Gurugram-based Nalini Moti Sadhu Sadhu, 60, who grew up in Srinagar’s Rajbagh. She opened Matmaal (which means grandmother’s house in Kashmiri) restaurant in Gurugram in January 2016 with her husband Surendra Sadhu.
Sadhu is not a trained chef. She learned to cook traditional Kashmiri dishes like mutton kalia and other rich gravies from her grandmother and her mother-in-law and learned to cook for family, friends and on request before opening Matamaal. Across India, Indians are giving lesser-known cuisines a bigger platform, taking the process of community cooking to an appreciative audience.
Tanisha Phanbuh, 29, was born into a foodie family in Shillong, Meghalaya, and loved hosting weekend dinner parties where she and her mother tried North-Eastern cuisine. They cooked everything from khasi sirwa (stew with fish or vegetables) and Assamese fish tenga (sour fish curry) to Burmese khao sue. So when she moved to Delhi in 2015, she missed home and was surprised by how little the locals knew about the region’s food. “When I mentioned that I was from Shillong, people would ask where is it or ‘Oh, Cherrapunji?'” Their misconceptions were mostly related to food: beef, momos, chowmin and “smelly food”. “It inspired me to start a conversation about people’s real food and habits from the backyard,” she says.
Phanbuh launched Tribal Gourmet, a pop-up kitchen, in 2017. She focuses on the cuisine of her home state – not just the obvious choices like doh neiong (pork in black sesame), but everyday home cooking. There is curry made with fermented bean paste and fermented fish, and the Khasi-style delicacy doh jem, a type of liver pâté. His patrons include other transplants from Meghalaya and a small but growing number of people who have never been to the region.
It’s possible to feel unmotivated even on your home turf. In Bengaluru, Divya Prabhakar, a former sales and marketing executive now in her 40s, found that the city had plenty of restaurants serving international cuisine, but none were serving food from the local Gouda-growing community. He founded his own set-menu restaurant and catering service, Bangalore Ota Company, over seven years ago.
Prabhakar describes the community as apparently omnivorous. “We have a dish for every part of the goat, from nose to tail,” she says. They also eat chicken and pork. The kitchen turns well-honed home recipes into four- and five-course menus. This is the complete Gouda experience. Prabhakar’s restaurant operates from a traditional local house. Spreads include Bannur Mamsa Pulao, which uses fatty meat; Goli or Mangalorean street-style fried bhajji; and almond pudding.
Substitution teaching
Regardless of where these food enterprises operate, traditional cooking presents its own challenges. Sourcing the right ingredients is key. For a recent pop-up at a park in New Delhi, Phanbuh struggled to source materials. “Initially, I would ask my mother to source everything and courier it to me,” she says. These days, specialty markets have weekly product supplies. “Still, there are some things I bring from Shillong, such as fermented bean paste, fermented fish, black sesame, perilla and Lakadong turmeric, because the taste varies depending on how they are stored.”
Sadhu is also strict about where the spices come from. “It’s the most important aspect of the meal,” she says. A mild but bright red Kashmiri chili powder gives Rogan Josh its look and flavor. “Even a small change in the quality of this spice can make a big difference in this dish.” Sandhu says. Years of sourcing has helped him develop enough of a network to set up an online platform to deliver Kashmiri spices, dry fruits, raw honey, saffron, worldwide. He named it Kanj and Muhul, which translates to mortar and pestle.
Sharing the love
However, some journeys are easy. Phanbuh uses social media to educate audiences about food and the region. She has made reels about specific materials and how to work with them. “I also post during my travels when I’m back home, especially what and where I eat,” she says.
Sadhu also attributes the success of Matmaal and Kanj & Muhul to social media. Her feeds are about food but also include snippets of information about content and life in Kashmir. “I felt responsible to tell people about our way of life,” she says. “We have become a forum to connect people and appreciate one thing: good food.”
Prabhakar’s offline efforts have made the Bengaluru Ota company a success outside the Gowda community. “We are still visiting people, the experience they should have when they visit Bengaluru,” she says. This is an almost impossible feat for a company that is not active on social media.
From HT Brunch, May 06, 2023
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