Indian Cuisines that Have Weathered Climatic Extremities
The fermentation of seasonal radishes, like these mula, provides a host of benefits. Photo by Jordan Wangdinamgyal.
“The way I think about Indian cuisines and how they have evolved is not by placing them strictly within the boundaries of states or even nations. Food most often relies on the landscape or geography it is set against and is dependent on factors such as trade and migration,” says Aditya Kiran Kakati, Guwahati-based historian and anthropologist who specializes in ethno-histories of indigenous cuisines of the northeast of India. He illustrates his point by citing the example of the humble momo. This meat- or vegetable-filled dumpling, he adds, may be referred to by different names—and assume slightly different avatars in the various regions it is consumed—but it’s a mainstay of Himalayan cuisines from Ladakh all the way to Sikkim and Bhutan.
While the momo gradually crept its way into the Indian street food scene across the country and attained mainstream stature, Kakati is quick to draw attention to the fact that its roots are undeniably Himalayan. Its widespread adoption could be attributed to the similarities in ecology and the fact that certain kinds of food are synonymous with “certain latitudes,” he says.
This theory gains particular credence while exploring the unique food traditions and techniques that have weathered climatic extremities and historically sustained communities in some of India’s hottest and coldest regions. Goa-based food writer Vikram Doctor throws light on how dried foods prove to be the point of convergence for the cuisines of very hot and cold states. Sunlight and wind (in the case of high-altitude places), according to him, become nature’s most plentiful and invaluable resources that make up for inhospitable climes with limited growing seasons and windows. Doctor states that communities and cuisines of places at both ends of the spectrum have developed from a reliance on dried food.
Preservation in the Desert
The state of Rajasthan—where three-quarters of the north and northwest comprise of the arid and semi-arid bioregion referred to as the Great Indian Desert or the Thar Desert—serves as a strong case in point as to how prevailing temperature conditions and subsequent physiological demands have long determined the agricultural practices and dietary predilections of its inhabitants. Doctor mentions the prominence of indigenous “dried vegetables—kachri and kumthi, in addition to dried flour and lentil preparations.” Preserved papads, the wafer-thin, crisp disc-shaped savory flour confections, and wadis, with their long shelf life, are also a study in culinary ingenuity, often incorporated into various dishes with pulses and lentils. Dairy products such as milk, buttermilk and ghee traditionally took the place of water, regarded a prized commodity in a desert economy, while cooked yogurt-based gravies such as gatte ki subzi served as the unlikely vehicle for steamed gram flour dumplings.
Drying and preservation also become vital skills of survival for hostile regions such as Kargil in Ladakh, an area that forms the easternmost trans-Himalayan part of the Indian state of Jammu and Kashmir, bordering Pakistan and China. Spanning an area of 59,146 square kilometers, this region is best described as a cold arid desert and is subject to intense sunlight, high evaporation rates, strong winds and fluctuating temperature (30-40°C). Sparse vegetation results in little moisture and this, in addition to heavy snowfall during winters and being surrounded by high mountains, results in the area being cut off and inaccessible to the outside world for about six months in a year.
Maintaining a nutritionally balanced diet can be a challenge in these places, leading to a dependence on bite-sized powerhouses of energy such as the dried Hunza apricots. Small, round and hardened, this variety shares no resemblance to its plump orange counterparts and look, instead, like pale walnuts. They grow wild in Kashmir’s Hunza valley and are left to dry on the trees before being harvested.
Doctor explains how the Hunza has come to be a term, “used loosely across hilly regions for hardier stone fruit.” He highlights another important aspect, which is the loss of vitamins and micronutrients when depending on lentil- and grain-heavy diets leading to the subsequent need for, “things such as apricots that are rich in vitamin C.”
Meat, adds Doctor, is another source of protein and sustenance through the harsh winter months in areas such as Kargil where it is wind- or air-dried and stored. Kakati supports this theory and maintains that, “fats are needed to sustain oneself in certain climes.” This, he believes, is the driving reason behind people in high altitudes drinking butter tea and chewing indigenous cheese chhurpi, “in the manner of chewing gum as it releases proteins and the slow-releasing energy one needs while engaging in hard physical labor.”
Dalle Khursani chiles. Photo by Jordan Wangdinamgyal.
Chile Effects
Chiles, according to Doctor, are another good source of vitamin C and help in balancing out nutritional deficiencies. They are also known to trigger a bodily mechanism that increases one’s metabolic rate and subsequent body temperature, which in turn induces sweating as a mechanism to cool off.
The connection cannot be overlooked when studying the climatic conditions in extremely hot southern states such as Andhra Pradesh, whose cuisine has come to be synonymous with one of India’s most fiery chile cultivars, the Guntur. As per government data, the production of chilies in India is dominated by Andhra Pradesh (contributing to nearly 57 percent of the total production), which is home to major chile-growing districts such as Guntur, Warangal, Khammam, Krishna and Prakasham. Guntur bears the distinction of being the biggest chile-producing region, contributing to 30 percent of Andhra Pradesh’s total production.
Jordan Wangdinamgyal, a restaurateur based in India’s northeastern state of Sikkim (with an altitudinal variation enabling tropical, temperate and alpine climatic conditions within its small area of 7,096 kilometers, and temperature conditions ranging from subtropical in the southern lower parts to cold deserts in the snowy north) makes mention of the Dalle Khursani, “a small, rounded chile, found not just in Sikkim, but also in other parts of the Himalayan belt such as Nepal, which is a hardy crop that doesn’t require much water and is easy to cultivate.” The Dalle Khursani, he claims, is “the only spice used in our cuisine and prevalent in a lot of dishes.”
This is a chile that lends its form perfectly to both fresh and fermented pickles that are prepared simply in vinegar or with spices and keep for months. These jars are commonly reached out to during the biting cold winter months as it is said to have warming properties.
If the Dalle Khursani is a fiery force to be reached out to for its warming properties, Mathania chiles are said to achieve a completely different bodily effect. According to Delhi-based culinary historian Ashish Chopra, these chiles owe their origin to the village of Mathania in Rajasthan’s Marwar region. A king is believed to have obtained the seeds after a historical conquest and given them to farmers within the area to sow. Now they’re a household chile. Chopra elucidates as to how this pepper, fondly referred to as the Lal Badshah or Red King, “developed a distinct taste due to it being sun-dried, which enhances its smoky aroma. It is also favored across all communities for its color, texture, flavor and, most importantly, its body temperature-reducing properties.” It is this last attribute perhaps that can be credited with it being an irreplaceable component of the renowned lal maas or red mutton gravy.
Gundruk is a dry, acidic brined and fermented preparation of mustard greens, radish and cauliflower leaves. Photo by Jordan Wangdinamgyal.
Fermented, Foraged and Ready for Anything
Fermentation is a crucial culinary principle in cold regions and the daily meals of the ethnic people of Sikkim and Darjeeling stand as testimony to this, with about 13 percent of fermented foods constituting their daily meals. In her book Himalayan Fermented Foods: Microbiology, Nutrition and Ethnic Values, Jyoti Prakash Tamang states that, “More than 150 different types of ethnic fermented foods and alcoholic beverages are prepared and consumed by the Himalayan people, which include milk, vegetables, bamboo, soybean, meat, fish, cereal and alcoholic beverages.” The food culture of the Himalayas, according to her, “is a unique fusion of the soybean-alcohol-consuming Chinese culture from the north and the milk-vegetable eating Hindu culture from the south.”
Kakati highlights fermented soybeans—which are a great source of nutrition and found in a lot of upland cuisines across South East Asia and the Himalayas—and gundruk a dry, acidic brined and fermented preparation of mustard greens, radish and cauliflower leaves, generally prepared in an earthen container between December and February when reserves of these vegetables pile up. The fermentation of seasonal leafy vegetables, radishes, cucumbers and young, tender bamboo shoots provides a host of benefits ranging from health-inducing functions to the biopreservation of perishable foods.
It is no secret that the uncongenial climate of some of these places leaves inhabitants with no choice other than to travel in search of work, and this migratory factor leaves an indelible mark on the cuisine. Doctor mentions how there has always been a tradition of “a nomadic population traveling between the passes and the more interior and lowland areas. The food of these areas reflects that movement. Compressed tea bricks that are used in Tibet to make butter tea, for example, come from China.”
Chopra says that in Rajasthan, this transitory community of migrant workers, such as the Meenas who were essentially herders, musicians, pastorals and blacksmiths, and the Gadia Lohars (chiefly blacksmiths) could be credited with conceiving certain durable dried food such as dried rotis and dal baati churma where sundried wheat dumplings serve as a handy portable meal, enhanced by the richness of lentils and ghee.
Rajasthan-based hotelier Ajwad Raza has an interesting perspective on how certain dishes draw tactically from the limited bounty of unforgiving landscapes. He talks about the Rajasthani panch kuta that features five desert-specific, foraged ingredients that grow wild and are harvested then dried on rooftops and stashed away for times when supplies are limited.
The khejri tree is often dubbed “King of the Destert,” and it’s known to sustain an entire family through the drought season with every part serving a purpose, right from the leaves that are used as fodder for the goats that will then go on to cater to the dairy requirements of a household. Its pods are cut into thin slices and cooked with Mathania chiles and indigenous berries Ker, Kumad and Sangli.
The Challenges in Ladakh
In her book Ladakh: Crossroads of High Asia, Janet Rizvi outlines the lifestyle of the people of Ladakh. She says, “For centuries this population, living in an area that is poor in natural resources, has led a relatively self-reliant existence, based upon subsistence agriculture and livestock husbandry, but also upon trading goods with Tibet, central Asia, and the Indian plain.”
It is these conditions perhaps that have resulted in the development of a traditional farming system that has been included on The Food and Agriculture Organization’s list of possible “Globally Important Agricultural Heritage Systems,” worthy of preservation and conservation.
A study titled Energy evaluation of a traditional farming system. Case study: Leh District (Ladakh—Indian Trans-Himalaya) published by the European Journal of Sustainable Development highlights how, “Local farmers have been able to create favorable farming conditions by channeling meltwater from glaciers, terracing the land, producing and preserving soil fertility, and implementing methods of fair resource share and collaboration among them.”
The main agricultural products of this region are barley, wheat, millet, pulses and fruit, such as apricots and apples, which go on to feature as the key pillars of the local diet. Yaks, dzos, cows, donkeys, horses, sheep and goats are reared not only for dairy products, meat and their skin, but also relied upon for transport or to power agriculture.
The region’s subzero temperatures make vegetable cultivation in winter impossible, and the people have to tap into unique, indigenous storage methods of certain crops such as cabbage, potato, onion, radish and carrot that are well-adjusted to the prevailing ecological and socioeconomic conditions. Vegetables hold a special place on the Ladakhi menu, but as cultivation is possible only from April to October, with a harvesting period of July to October; off-season requirements cannot be ignored. Other unique challenges include the region’s isolation from the rest of the country from November to May every year, due to heavy snowfall, and high air cargo charges to import fresh vegetables.
A paper titled Traditional Methods for Storage of Vegetables in Cold Arid Region of Ladakh, India explains how, “cabbage is stored in basements of houses, tuber and root crops in underground pits and onions by hanging from the ceiling of the storehouse.” While the cumbersome traditional ways may be on the declinedeclining, the paper mentions a leaning towards the time-tested, zero-energy based and low-cost method.
Dr. Dorjey Angchok, a scientist at the Defence Institute of High Altitude Research in Leh, talks about how the advent of modern practices has posed a risk to the intrinsic agricultural landscape.
“Until the 1970s, people were very traditional both culturally and in their agricultural methods,” he says. “After this, Ladakh opened to tourists and developmental activities led to a change in existing cropping patterns. There was an increased demand for things like potatoes. Traditional crops such as lathyrus and caparis, which were earlier depended on for sustenance were lost. People used to grow buckwheat—and its flour known as sattu was eaten widely as a porridge—but this, too, was lost. They are slowly realising their mistakes and there has been a revival in the growth of buckwheat over the last five or six years.”
Buckwheat roll with chhurpi. Photo by Jordan Wangdinamgyal.
Great Grains
Buckwheat was one of the staple foods of Ladakhi people by virtue of it being a short-duration crop, easily adaptable to the limited growing seasons of the high Himalayas with its poor, badly tilled land. Similarly, wheat barley and pearl millet (locally referred to as bajra) are the hardy and drought-resistant crops of preference in Rajasthan.
Raza touches upon the lokha and chokha, two interesting components of the Rajasthani diet that are byproducts of the state’s proclivity toward locally grown grains. The lokha is a grain-based gruel or porridge, while the chokha comes from grains that are ground into flour and made into a flatbread referred to as a roti.
“A lot of villagers have very simple meals,” he says. “In winters they have thick bajra rotis with dal or bajre ki khichdi [pearl millet with rice and lentils], which produces warmth. Jawar is traditionally a crop of tribals, such as the Bhils. All of them are able to source some amount of grain from the fields during the season they work as laborers and are thus able to make atta [flour].”
It is these inadvertently practiced farm-to-fork and nose-to-tail sustainable practices that inhabitants of these regions are forced to adopt that truly sets them apart. The vegetation of the desert, and deciduous trees with a deep root system, such as the Khejri, is intrinsically connected with the sustenance of the nomadic pastoral and agricultural communities in Rajasthan providing them with food, fodder, fuel and even traditional forms of medicine.
Chopra echoes how the sentiment holds equally true for the Himalayan regions where the circle of life is, in a sense, completed with, “the yak, which is not just considered a beast of burden, but supplies everything to nomadic tribes from the skin used to cover their bodies to the meat and dairy products such as milk and fresh and dried cheese like chhurpi that go into gravies or momo fillings.” This also explains why, “Yaks are not usually slaughtered as per tradition. Once they die, every part is used – from the skin, which is used to make clothes to the meat, which is consumed; bones that are crafted into tools; horns that make for good artefacts; and wool that lends itself to blankets.”
