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The moment I entered the first-class cabin, one of the flight attendants greeted me by name and handed me a glass of champagne. And this was not just any champagne, but one of the premium brands in a sparkling crystal glass. This set the tone for the rest of the journey, a taste of the luxury that lay ahead.

Having had personal experience in airline catering and menu development for major airlines, I was eager to see and get a feel for what first-class dining would look and feel like. The meal service didn’t disappoint. First, the menu presentation at the tableside was just like one would have in a fine dining restaurant, with gourmet dishes crafted by well-known chefs.

There was smoked salmon and caviar followed by a delicate lobster salad with avocado and citrus dressing. The main course was a turbot filet with truffle mashed purple potatoes, roasted vegetables, and white wine caper sauce. The presentation was faultless and the food was bursting with flavor. I thought I was having a Michelin-star meal in the sky. For dessert, I had molten chocolate fondant with homemade vanilla bean ice cream. The freshness in ingredients and richness in flavors perfectly ended the meal.

What really made it special was the personalized attention. The cabin crew was attentive, calling me by name, seeing to my every need without being intrusive. When I mentioned a wine that I enjoyed, they quickly brought along a bottle to try. It felt like a fancy restaurant where the wait staff does everything possible to make the evening an unforgettable one.

Each meal was served on fine China (porcelain pots) with real silverware, linen napkins, and crystal glassware. Every detail was well thought out, even down to how the presentation of the bread and the serving of the butter were laid out. It was an exclusive experience that was tailored to suit my liking.

The first-class seat felt more like a private suite than a standard airplane seat. There was everything I needed to feel comfortable—a personal closet, a huge screen for entertainment, and adjustable lights. When it was time to sleep, the flight attendants transformed my seat into a fully flat bed-complete with a thick mattress, soft pillows, and a warm duvet. Pajamas and slippers were also provided.

The bed linen was such that I slept for several hours and woke up refreshed to continue the further leg of my journey. Quite frankly, it felt much more like being in a five-star hotel than on a plane. One thing that did surprise me was how functional the first class was for working professionals: high-speed internet, power outlets, and spacious tables to work on. I could see why most business executives fly first class. The quiet, private environment had me working as if I were in my office.

Having these facilities in the air was a game-changer for people who had to remain industrious during long plane flights. First class is not all about luxuries; sometimes it is actually a necessity if one is a professional who needs to work without any disturbance.

Now that I have flown first class, I can understand why people pay for it. It’s not just space and gourmet food. It’s the experience. First-class flying passengers enjoy privacy, comfort, and personal services that can never be provided in economy or even business class.

It all begins when one arrives at the airport. The journey becomes smoother and more pleasant. Exclusive access to airport lounges, priority boarding, and private check-in enhance this experience even further. The spacious and quiet setting onboard is an excellent opportunity to relax comfortably, work, or sleep. For the business traveler, at least, the productivity could well be worth the cost. For others, it’s that once-in-a-lifetime extravagance that makes a long-haul flight an unforgettable experience.

However, I found all the attention to be a little tiring. It was unlike anything I was used to so it felt strange to be pampered to this degree. I told this to one of the stewardesses and asked her if I could just be left alone for some time. And in that moment of silence, I truly appreciated the first class services. It wasn’t luxury but it was a different way of travel. Not many people can travel first class, but if the opportunity presents itself, make sure you savor every single moment.

The author is a UK-based R&D chef

While browsing an electronic version of the book Home Chefs of the World—Rice and Rice-based Recipes, published by the International Rice Institute (IRRI) and the International Women’s Organization, I found myself captivated by this 33-year-old collection. As a lifelong lover of rice, I was thoroughly enjoying it when I came across a small write-up by Sushila Pradhan on a dish called Dhakani. I suddenly realized that I had missed out on this dish during ‘darr’, the special feast held before the fasting day of Teej which was celebrated recently.

Traditionally, Haritalika Teej celebrates the divine union of Shiva and Parvati. During this festival, Hindu women from the hills (except for Hindu Newar) fast for 24 hours without food or water, seeking special blessings from Lord Shiva for a good husband and for the longevity and prosperity of their spouse. Nowadays, however, Teej has evolved into a celebration of womanhood, observed by women across Nepal, from the Madhesh to the hills and mountains, transcending ethnic boundaries. The darr feast, which was once a single-day affair, has become a month-long gathering for women.

Dhakani was traditionally eaten at midnight before Teej because its heaviness sustained fasting women for 24 hours. During the Teej festival, women don vibrant red saris, gather to sing and dance, and fast while praying for their husband’s well-being. Before the fasting day, they indulge in a feast known as darr, where dhakani is a staple. Rich in calories and nutrients, dhakani provides the energy needed for the day-long fast.

 Dhakani, sometimes called dhakane, can be described as a sweet pulao. It’s said to have originated in eastern Nepal and is known by different names in various regions. Despite its sweetness, it’s not served as a dessert due to its heaviness. Instead, it’s usually served as dinner or lunch during festivals or special occasions.

Growing up, Teej was a distant festival for me, something I observed from afar. My father, a Gurkha lahure, was often away due to his job, but he made sure we were always well provided for. My mother, who had lived in Kashmir, understood the value of rich foods and had a unique talent for selecting the finest ingredients. My maternal family, with roots in Burma, also celebrated festivals with grandeur, and my thulo mama (uncle) was a self-taught chef who delighted in creating culinary masterpieces. Despite these rich experiences, I rarely participated directly in Teej celebrations.

 That changed during my college years in Kathmandu, Nepal. One rainy monsoon day, still dressed in our college uniforms, my cousin invited me to her home for Teej. As we walked through the rain-soaked streets, I saw women in vibrant red saris singing and dancing, their joy contagious.

 At my thulo mama’s home, I was immediately greeted by the rich aroma of something warm and sweet. It was dhakani, simmering on the stove, prepared by my uncle with his usual enthusiasm. I still remember the delight of tasting that dish for the first time—the sweetness of sugarcane molasses, the soft, creamy rice, the crunch of cashews and raisins, the fragrant hint of cardamom, and the subtle kick from black pepper. It was simple yet luxurious and, for me, a revelation.

Ingredients:

1 cup rice (Anadai ko chamal)

2 tablespoons butter (ghee)

1 cup khudo (sugarcane molasses)

4 cups milk

2 tablespoons dry coconut, grated and sliced

2 tablespoons cashews

2 tablespoons raisins

1 teaspoon black pepper

4 green cardamom pods

Steps:

• Begin by soaking the rice in water overnight. This softens the rice, allowing it to absorb flavors better during cooking. After soaking, drain the rice and set it aside.
• In a medium-sized pan, heat the butter (ghee) over medium heat. Add the drained rice and sauté for about a minute until the rice is lightly coated with butter.
• Once the rice begins to dry slightly, add the sugarcane molasses, grated and sliced dry coconut, black pepper, and crushed cardamom pods. Stir continuously for another two to three minutes to ensure the molasses dissolves and all ingredients blend well.
• Add the milk to the pan and bring it to a gentle boil. Stir occasionally to prevent the rice from sticking to the bottom.
• Once the milk comes to a boil, reduce the heat to low, cover the pan, and let it simmer. Cook until the milk is mostly absorbed and the rice becomes tender and creamy. Stir occasionally to ensure even cooking.
• Once the rice is fully cooked, remove the pan from heat. Add cashews and raisins for a delightful contrast of textures. Transfer the dhakani to a serving platter. Enjoy it warm or at room temperature.
• With proper research and promotion, Dhakani could be preserved and popularized as a Nepali food gift (koseli), similar to how peda from Barmajhiya or pustakari has gained recognition. This dish could surely become popular among national, local, and international tourists as a ready-to-eat delicacy from Nepal.

 The author is a London-based research and development chef

During our childhood, while walking around Asan in Kathmandu, we often saw a rectangular white substance immersed in buckets of water. At that time, we had no idea what it was. Much later, we realized it was tofu. For those still unfamiliar with it, tofu is a form of paneer (cottage cheese) made from soybeans. Tofu is a staple in many Asian cuisines and is a versatile, nutrient-rich food that has gained popularity worldwide, not just for its health benefits but also for its adaptability in various culinary traditions.

According to research, the creator of tofu is said to be Liu An, a Han-dynasty prince of Anhui province, who prepared soybeans in a similar fashion to grains. He followed by drying, mashing, and boiling them, with the addition of sea salt. The salt, which contains calcium and magnesium, acted as both a seasoning and a solidifying agent to form curds. Since then, sea salts have been used to process tofu from soybeans as far back as 200 BC.

Tofu is believed to have originated from Shouxian, a country within the Anhui province in Southeast China. Shouxian civilization, once known as Shouchun or Shouyang during the Zhou dynasty in 203 BC, has since been recognized as a historical and cultural town of China. In Shouxian, tofu was prepared by coagulating smashed soybeans with water and placing them into a curdling box. The technique spread throughout Asia, becoming a staple in Japan, Korea, Vietnam, and beyond. Major consumption of tofu began in the early 1980s in America.

Tofu was first introduced to Japan around the 8th century by Buddhist monks, where it became popular due to the influence of Buddhism and its vegetarian principles. In Japan, tofu became a vital part of the diet, often featured in traditional dishes like ‘miso soup’ and ‘agedashi tofu’.

When was tofu introduced to Nepal? This is a matter for systematic research, but what we can say is that tofu’s introduction to Nepal is relatively recent compared to its long history in China and Japan. With the rise of health consciousness and a growing trend toward vegetarianism, tofu has found a place in Nepali cuisine. It’s commonly used as a substitute for paneer in traditional dishes, and its popularity is growing in urban areas. Though it’s still sold in open buckets in some traditional shops in Kathmandu, you can now find many varieties of tofu in packaged form.

In Nepal, tofu is not only appreciated for its nutritional value but also for its versatility. It can be stir-fried, grilled, added to soups, or used in momo as a filling. The shift toward tofu in Nepali diets reflects broader global trends where plant-based diets are becoming more prevalent.

Tofu is praised for its impressive nutritional profile. It’s rich in protein, making it a great meat substitute for vegetarians and vegans. Additionally, tofu contains essential amino acids, calcium, iron, and magnesium. It’s also low in calories and free from cholesterol, making it beneficial for heart health and weight management.

The global tofu market is experiencing substantial growth, driven by the increasing adoption of vegetarian and vegan diets. In 2023, the market was valued at approximately US$ 274.43 billion and is expected to reach nearly US$ 391.33 billion by 2030, growing at a CAGR of 5.2%.

As more consumers become aware of the health benefits of plant-based diets, tofu’s demand has risen. The environmental impact of meat production has led many to seek sustainable protein alternatives, with tofu being a prime choice. Tofu’s integral role in Asian cuisine continues to drive its demand globally, especially as these cuisines become more popular.

Processed tofu holds the majority share due to its longer shelf life and affordability. The food and beverage sector dominates the market, with tofu being a key ingredient in various dishes. Supermarkets are the leading distribution channel, thanks to their convenience and broad product offerings.

Despite its benefits, tofu faces some challenges. There are concerns about soy’s potential effects on thyroid function and its link to breast cancer, though ongoing research aims to address these issues. Tofu’s bland taste and unique texture can be off-putting to some people unfamiliar with it, though this is mitigated by its ability to absorb flavors from seasonings and sauces.

The Asia-Pacific region holds the largest market share, particularly in countries like China, Japan, and Korea, where tofu has deep cultural roots. In North America and Europe, there is a significant demand for tofu, spurred by rising vegan populations and the increasing popularity of plant-based diets.

The tofu market is expected to continue growing as more consumers seek healthy, sustainable food options. Innovations in tofu products, such as flavored or fortified varieties, and expanding tofu’s reach into new geographic markets will likely drive future growth.

Tofu’s journey from ancient China to a global food staple underscores its importance in the modern diet. Its rise in Nepal reflects global trends, and its market growth signals a broader shift toward sustainable, plant-based eating. As the world embraces more health-conscious and environmentally friendly food choices, tofu’s role in the global food industry is set to expand even further.

The author is a UK-based R&D chef

Have you noticed Bollywood actors like Rakul Preet Singh, Bhumi Pednekar, Kriti Sanon, Shilpa Shetty, Malaika Arora, and Janhvi Kapoor promoting ‘ghee coffee’? This trend is gaining attention among the new generation for its touted health benefits. Not only in India, but ghee (or ‘ghyu’ in Nepali) is also becoming popular in the Western world as well.

Ghee, once dismissed by the Western oil industry as unhealthy, is now being praised for its incredible nutritional and spiritual benefits. The oil industry had heavily promoted their unhealthy oils in the large South Asian market, leading to a campaign against ghee. Many of us believed them and switched to so-called ‘banaspati’ ghee and other oils made from seeds.

However, unlike ghee, many modern oils, like hydrogenated fats and seed oils, have been linked to health issues. These oils, often genetically modified and heavily processed, can contribute to inflammation, heart disease, and other health problems. They lack the nutritional profile of ghee and have been criticized for their negative impact on overall health.

For centuries, ghee has been an integral part of South Asian kitchens and Ayurvedic medicine. It’s time to reclaim and celebrate this ancient treasure that our ancestors valued so highly.

The International Society for Krishna Consciousness (ISKCON) has played a significant role in reviving the use of ghee within the framework of a sattvic diet, which promotes physical health and spiritual well-being.

Ghee, also known as clarified butter, boasts numerous health benefits. It is packed with healthy fats essential for brain health and hormone production. These fats provide quick energy and help absorb fat-soluble vitamins like A, D, E, and K. Ghee stimulates stomach acids, aiding digestion and nutrient absorption. Its composition makes it easy to digest and beneficial for gut health.

Being free from lactose and casein, It has been used in Ayurvedic medicine for its anti-inflammatory properties, helping reduce inflammation and promoting overall well-being.. When consumed in moderation, ghee can support heart health by increasing good cholesterol (HDL) levels. It has been used in Ayurvedic medicine for its anti-inflammatory properties, helping reduce inflammation and promoting overall well-being.

The butyrate in ghee supports gut health, crucial for a strong immune system, helping the body resist infections and diseases. Ghee’s moisturizing properties make it a favorite in traditional beauty treatments, keeping skin soft and supple and nourishing the hair.

In the past, Western experts told us that ghee was unhealthy, leading many to switch to hydrogenated fats and genetically modified oils. Now, those same experts have studied and realized the value of ghee. It’s ironic that after discarding our traditions for so-called modern alternatives, we are now being advised to return to what we once knew.

It’s easy to make ghee at home. It can be done using fresh cream or high-quality butter. If you want to use fresh cream, you can use cream bought directly from the supermarket or collect it from the top of boiled milk over several days. If you are using butter, I recommend you use unsalted butter.

Using a hand whisk, electric mixer, or traditional churner, churn the cream until it separates into butter and buttermilk. Rinse the butter under cold water to remove any remaining buttermilk. Place the butter in a heavy-bottomed saucepan. Turn the heat to medium to melt the butter. Once melted, reduce the heat to low.

Let the butter simmer. It will start to bubble and foam. The milk solids will begin to separate and sink to the bottom, while the clarified butter (ghee) rises to the top. This process takes about 15-25 minutes. Stir occasionally to prevent the milk solids from sticking to the bottom of the pan and burning. As the butter continues to simmer, it will turn a golden color and develop a nutty aroma. Be careful not to let it burn. The ghee is ready when the milk solids at the bottom have turned golden brown.

Remove the saucepan from the heat and let it cool for a few minutes. Then, strain the ghee through a fine mesh strainer or cheesecloth into a clean, dry glass jar to remove the milk solids. Let the ghee cool to room temperature before sealing the jar. Store it in a cool, dark place. Ghee can be kept at room temperature for several months, or you can refrigerate it for longer shelf life.

The wisdom of our ancestors teaches us that ghee is not just a cooking ingredient but a symbol of health, spirituality, and cultural heritage. It’s time we embrace and celebrate ghee—not because Westerners now endorse it, but because it’s a part of our rich tradition that has stood the test of time.

The author is a UK-based R&D chef

Imagine Kathmandu before the infamous Kot Massacre on September 14, 1846. Brisharaj Rajkarnikar, a man from the Newar Uray community of Yala (Patan), was experimenting with sweets. He shared his creations with family and neighbors, and soon, word of his expertise reached the royal palace.

Brisharaj was summoned to the court, where his sweets became a favorite among the king, queen, and other royals. After the Kot Parba, he was called back to the palace to resume his role as the royal sweet-maker under the new ruler, Jung Bahadur. One day, while working in the kitchen, Brisharaj met Maharaja Jung Bahadur and seized the opportunity to get approval to open a sweet shop. Thus, in 1848, Ram Bhandar was born.

However, maintaining the quality that has been a hallmark of the shop for over 175 years is challenging. Sixty-nine-year-old Divakar Rajkarnikar is Brisharaj’s great-grandson and the current owner of Ram Bhandar. However, things are far from sweet sailing at the sweet shop today. There are many challenges in maintaining quality, Divakar ‘dai’ (elder brother) told me on the phone. He explained that sourcing high-quality raw materials has become increasingly difficult, and finding and retaining skilled human resources is another hurdle.

Ram Bhandar, named after Lord Ram and featuring a logo with a bow and arrow, has long been a symbol of Nepali culture. Located in Thapathali, Kathmandu, the shop has been famous for sweets like jeri, swari, malpuwa, selroti, lakhamari, lalmohan, and gund-paak. After the collapse of its original location, the shop found a new home on the banks of the Bagmati River, thanks to the Ranas. The shop’s association with Nepal’s royal families further cemented its reputation.

Sweets hold a special place in Nepali culture, and Ram Bhandar’s offerings, especially the rasa-madhuri, have become essential to celebrations, festivals, and personal milestones. The Rajkarnikar family has preserved traditional recipes and techniques, avoiding artificial colors and preservatives. Divakar dai recalled how his father and grandfather would personally deliver sweets to customers who couldn’t visit the shop, a tradition of personal touch that continues to this day.

To adapt to modern times, the family has invested in new equipment, including cold rooms to ensure freshness. Divakar dai’s son, who holds an MBA from Australia, has returned to help blend tradition with modernity for the shop’s continued success. Ram Bhandar also plays a vital role in local empowerment, employing 18 people, 40 percent of whom are women.

Despite competition from Indian sweets and unhealthy industry practices, the Rajkarnikar family’s commitment to quality and tradition remains strong. There is potential for Ram Bhandar to expand internationally, bringing Nepali sweets to a global audience through franchising or establishing outlets in Nepali communities abroad. Ram Bhandar’s story is a remarkable journey of tradition, quality, and cultural significance. For over 175 years, the Rajkarnikar family has maintained a legacy that spans generations, making Ram Bhandar a beloved institution in Nepal.

Divakar dai says, “Nepali people remember Ram Bhandar no matter where they live. Even today, Nepalis living abroad order sweets online for Dashain, Tihar, or on Aama/Ba ko Mukh Herne Din (Mother’s Day and Father’s Day respectively), and we deliver them to their loved ones. When they return to Nepal, they visit our shop, and a taste of jeri swari brings back childhood nostalgia or memories of student life.”

Ram Bhandar’s legacy is built on the love and trust of its customers. The business isn’t just about making money. It’s about continuing a 175-year tradition and four generations of dedication, moving forward with moral responsibility. Franchising opportunities and establishing outlets in Nepali communities abroad could be viable paths for growth.

Ram Bhandar’s journey from a small home business to Nepal’s oldest sweet shop is a remarkable story of tradition, quality, and cultural significance. Its sweets are a connection to the past, a celebration of the present, and a promise for the future. With a rich history and unwavering commitment to excellence, Ram Bhandar remains an integral part of Nepal’s cultural and culinary landscape.

Baral is a UK-based R&D chef

Nepal is a fusion of cultures, boasting one of the most vibrant food scenes in the world. Our cuisine is a rich, diverse culinary heritage, not just a blend of different cultures but a delightful mix of flavors, colors, and aromas. Every region in Nepal has its unique dishes, and even within the same cultural family, the food can vary.

Most people from the hills of Nepal are familiar with ‘masaura,’ which are fermented sun-dried vegetable balls made from various minced vegetables and black lentils. However, many are not familiar with ‘biriya’, a pride of Mithila. Recently, during my visit to Nepal, I had the chance to taste biriya in Kathmandu. I loved it.

Biriya is a dry green vegetable dish eaten during the rainy season. Like masaura, women gather green vegetables, let them wither slightly, wrap them in black gram paste, and let them dry during the winter. The dried biriya is stored in a dry place and used as an alternative vegetable during the rainy season when fresh vegetables are scarce.

This practice follows the saying wrap and dry vegetables when they are found in abundance. People collect mustard leaves, broadleaf mustard, and grass peas, let them wither, and wrap them in black gram flour paste.

Mithila food is gaining popularity, but do you know what Mithila food is? Or where Mithila is? It’s not just another form of ‘dal-bhat and tarkari.’ Mithila lies in the foothills of the Sivalik or Churia range of the outer Himalayas and is fed by many rivers. The river water adds fertility to the soil, making it ideal for agriculture and fish farming. Every village has multiple ponds for fish farming. Mithila has its own natural adaptation of land and climate.

While browsing the internet, I found that in the 11th century, Jyotirishwar Thakur wrote two books, ‘Varnaratnakar’ and ‘Prakriti Paingalam’, in which he explained Maithil cuisine, especially the love for fish and curd. The great Mithila poet Vidyapati of the 13th century is also said to have mentioned different Maithil foods in his books.

Some friends from Mithila have shared a famous proverb: ‘Maachh, paan, aur makhaan, e teen ta aichh Mithila ke jaan,’ which means ‘fish, betel, and water-lily seeds are the most special delicacies of Mithila’.

The Maithil plate, or thali, includes rice, wheat, fish, and sweet dishes, using various spices, herbs, and natural edibles. No meal within the Maithil community is considered complete without leafy dishes known as saag. Our cuisine celebrates saag: bathua, laal saag, patua saag, genhari, karmi, and sariso saag. Leafy curries like colocasia curry (arikanchan or kanch in Maithili) or leafy fritters (tarua) made from ivy gourd leaves or pumpkin flowers are favorite accompaniments.

Returning to biriya, it is made from different leafy vegetables like bathua and methi, dipped in urad and besan paste, and sun-dried. Biriya pods can also be made from khesari saag (Indian grass pea leaves, Lathyrus sativus). Although the sale and storage of grass pea seeds are banned in Nepal and India due to their neurotoxin content, the leaves are safe and still used in rural kitchens to make biriya.

Here’s how to make biriya at home. It’s a recipe I learned when I first tried biriya in Kathmandu recently.

Ingredients:

10 to 15 Biriya pods

300 g potatoes, chopped

3 tbsp mustard paste

1 tbsp garlic paste

1 tsp turmeric powder

Chilli powder, to taste

1 tsp mustard seeds

2 bay leaves

2 tbsp mustard oil

Method:

Heat mustard oil in a pan, stir-fry the biriya pods lightly, and set them aside.

Add more oil, mustard seeds, and bay leaves to the pan. When the seeds begin to crackle, add the potatoes and fry.

Add mustard and garlic paste, then fry with the potatoes. Add turmeric, salt, and chili powder.

Cook for a few minutes, then add two to three glasses of water. Stir gently, cover, and simmer until it reaches your desired consistency.

Serve your Maithil-style biriya curry with hot rice. Sliced onions on the side make a great accompaniment.

Enjoy the flavors of Mithila with this traditional dish.

The author is UK-based research and development chef

Generation Alpha might ask, “What is janti bakhro?” Generation Z will probably say, “I’ve heard about it but never tasted it.” For Generation X (1965–1980), the term itself brings nostalgia. Janti bakhro is a vanishing tradition, a culinary culture that faded during Nepal’s ten-year-long Maoist war.

 Imagine hot rice on a leaf plate and cooked goat meat—so hot that it burns your fingers and tongue. The memory of eating this delicious dish while the sauce leaked from the leaf plate remains vivid for many. Today, the custom of eating janti bakhro has largely disappeared. Instead, from villages to cities, wedding parties are now grand affairs with elaborate feasts.

 In the past, meat was a rare treat in most homes, typically cooked only during Dashain. However, when there was a wedding in a farmer’s household, a male goat would be slaughtered, and people from three to four villages would be invited. The goat meat would be used to prepare large pots of meat soup. This soup, along with rice, was served in leaf plates. As the rice soaked up the soup, the leaf plates would often leak, adding to the fun of eating. Each guest would receive a small piece of meat, a rare delicacy for many.

 When I was eight years old, my father was away, so I often attended weddings, rituals, and celebrations on his behalf as the eldest son. I still remember a particular wedding in Gorkha during my school holidays. It was a night wedding and a bus was arranged for the occasion. After the wedding ceremony, our bus made a stop, and all the janti (wedding guests) came together to prepare a simple meal of rice and goat curry.

 There were more than 150 hungry people but we somehow managed to cook everything within an hour. To ensure there was enough for everyone, we added a lot of soup to the goat curry. Instead of the usual spices, we used mustard cake (pina) to thicken the curry, which intrigued me as I was already interested in cooking.

 The experience of eating janti bakhro was unforgettable. The rice was cooked in a traditional Nepali pot called a ‘taulo’ or ‘khadkulo’ used for special occasions. We were served steaming hot rice and runny goat curry on leaf plates. The curry was spicy and aromatic with mustard, and the rice was overcooked. The challenge was to eat quickly before the sauce leaked from the leaf plates. Despite the haste, the flavors were incredible, and the meal was deeply satisfying, especially knowing it would be my last for the next 18 hours.

 This experience, which happened 36 years ago, is etched in my memory. The sights, aromas, and tastes are as clear as if it happened yesterday. This janti bakhro culture inspired me profoundly. I believe this dish should be featured on every restaurant menu in Nepal. It’s simple, easy to cook, and incredibly tasty. It represents a piece of our heritage that should not be forgotten. Let’s bring this traditional dish into the mainstream and celebrate its unique flavors and the communal spirit of cooking and eating together.

 Ingredients

780 gm goat meat (mixed and with bone)

120 ml mustard oil

5 gm fenugreek seeds

80 gm onion, finely sliced

20 gm garlic-ginger paste

120 gm tomato

5 gm turmeric powder

7.5 gm cumin powder

7.5 gm red chili powder

5 gm nutmeg powder

1.5 liters water

Mustard paste (to thicken)

100 gm mustard cake (also called Pina)

Salt to taste

10 ml lemon juice

Coriander leaves (roughly cut, for garnish)

 Instructions

Heat mustard oil in a pan and add fenugreek seeds. Let them sputter until they turn dark. Add finely sliced onions and goat meat, and sauté until dry. Add salt and garlic-ginger paste. When the mixture turns golden brown, add all the powdered spices and tomatoes. Cook until the tomatoes melt and form a thick sauce. Add water and cook until the meat is tender. Thicken the curry with mustard cake. Just before serving, squeeze lemon juice and garnish with coriander leaves.

 The author is UK-based research and development chef

For years, I had dreamed of tasting ‘ghungi’, a traditional Tharu delicacy made from freshwater snails. Growing up in Pokhara, in western Nepal, my culinary experiences were rooted in my family’s business in Malekhu, famous for its fish dishes like fried fish and ‘jhol machha’. Despite studying in Kathmandu and experiencing diverse cuisines, I had never encountered the unique flavors of the Tharu kitchen.

My culinary dream finally came true in a Tharu village in Chitwan. As a seasoned chef, I was excited to immerse myself in this authentic experience. I sought out a Tharu cook known for her traditional recipes and asked her to prepare the most authentic ghungi possible. She graciously agreed, and I watched every step of the preparation, eager to learn and absorb the process.

The meticulous cleaning of the ghungi was the first step, ensuring no mud or debris remained. She then heated mustard oil in a pan, adding ginger-garlic paste until it turned golden brown, creating an aromatic base. Chopped onions and green chilies followed, cooking until the onions became translucent. Tomatoes, turmeric, red chili powder, cumin, and coriander powders were added next, forming a rich and flavorful mixture. The cleaned ghungi was then added to the pan, stirred well, and simmered with water until tender.

I observed closely, noting each step and technique. The only deviation from tradition was the addition of store-bought garam masala, which she believed enhanced the flavor. While I appreciated her efforts, I made a mental note to modify this in my own version. If I were to recreate this dish, I would avoid the garam masala, opting instead for a blend of cumin, clove, and pipla (long pepper) to maintain an authentic Tharu flavor profile.

When I finally tasted the dish, the flavors exceeded my expectations. The ghungi had a fantastic, clean taste that was both memorable and satisfying. It was a culinary revelation, far surpassing any preconceived notions I had. The dish’s simplicity and depth of flavor left a lasting impression on me.

Before leaving, I expressed my gratitude to the cook by offering her a small tip and heartfelt thanks. Her willingness to share her culinary heritage was a gift, and her skill in preparing ghungi was evident in every bite. This experience solidified my desire to feature ghungi on the menu if I ever opened a restaurant in Nepal. It would not only showcase a unique aspect of Tharu cuisine but also honor the authenticity and tradition behind this exceptional dish.

This encounter with ghungi was a dream come true and a highlight of my culinary journey. It reminded me of the rich diversity of Nepal’s food culture and the importance of preserving and celebrating traditional recipes. As a chef, this experience inspired me to continue exploring and promoting the incredible flavors of our heritage.

Ghungi, a traditional delicacy in Tharu cuisine, holds significant cultural and nutritional value. This dish, made from freshwater snails, is deeply rooted in the culinary practices of the Tharu people of Nepal. The preparation of ghungi involves meticulous cleaning and cooking with a blend of spices like turmeric, red chili powder, and garam masala, often in mustard oil. Popular recipes include ghungi curry and spicy fried ghungi, both celebrated for their robust flavors and traditional methods of preparation. Spicy fried ghungi is a popular snack or appetizer in Tharu cuisine, often enjoyed with a side of tangy dipping sauce.

The cultural importance of ghungi in Tharu society cannot be overstated. It’s a staple during festivals, ceremonies, and family gatherings, symbolizing unity and tradition. The process of collecting and preparing ghungi is a communal activity, reinforcing social bonds and preserving cultural heritage. Consuming ghungi is seen as a way to honor ancestors and stay connected to cultural roots.

Nutritionally, ghungi is a powerhouse. It’s rich in protein, essential amino acids, and minerals like iron, calcium, and magnesium. Low in fat and high in omega-3 fatty acids, ghungi offers significant health benefits, contributing to a balanced diet. The traditional preparation methods help retain these nutritional benefits, making it a valued component of the Tharu diet.

Ghungi is not just a dish but a cultural emblem for the Tharu people, embodying their traditions, values, and culinary heritage. Its preparation and consumption are deeply ingrained in the social and cultural fabric of the community, making it an important aspect of Tharu food culture.

Whether enjoyed as a hearty curry or a spicy fried snack, Ghungi continues to be a beloved and significant delicacy in Tharu cuisine. The recipes and cultural practices surrounding Ghungi offer a glimpse into the rich and diverse heritage of the Tharu people, highlighting the importance of food in preserving and celebrating cultural identity.

The author is UK-based research and development chef