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When I lived in Malekhu—a small town in Nepal famous for its fish—I often saw Indian buses stop near a wild-looking tree. Men would get off, snap off stems, and drive away. I found it odd. Curious, I asked a local elder, Barakoti Krishna Mama. He chuckled, “Even goats won’t eat that grass. Indians use it as a traveling toothbrush.”

I forgot about it. Years later, in the UK, I opened a packet of curry leaves. The smell hit me hard. It was sharp, familiar, nostalgic. I couldn’t place it. The memory tugged at me for years.

Then, during a jungle safari in Sauraha, I saw the same plant from Malekhu. I crushed a leaf in my hand and there it was: That same unforgettable smell. This wasn’t just any plant. It was curry leaf—something I once overlooked, now the hero of my kitchen abroad.

What shocked me even more was that wild organic curry leaves in the UK sell for up to £800 a kilo. This leaf, dismissed back home, is a premium herb abroad. I’ve used it in Qatar during FIFA 2022, and even while cooking for the Ambani family in Las Vegas. And every time, it took me back to Nepal.

Now, I store curry leaves in every form—fresh, dried, frozen, powdered. It’s my favorite spice. Not native to Nepal, perhaps, but deeply tied to my story. And I believe it’s time Nepal recognises this forgotten gem. 

What are curry leaves?

Curry leaves come from the Murraya koenigii tree, native to South Asia. The leaves are glossy, deep green, and aromatic. They are not related to curry powder, but they bring a distinct, citrusy flavor to food. In many Indian and Sri Lankan dishes, they are essential—especially for a process called tadka, where spices are briefly fried in oil to release flavor.

In Ayurveda, curry leaves are praised for healing benefits, from easing digestion to managing diabetes and improving hair health. Communities in southern India even plant them near temples, believing in their purifying powers.

Science now confirms what traditional healers long knew. Curry leaves can control blood sugar, help digestion, reduce hair fall, protect the liver, fight infections, lower cholesterol and aid in weight loss. This little leaf is a health powerhouse.

Strangely, the plant grows wild in parts of Nepal but nobody pays attention. We ignore what other countries pay high prices to import. There’s no system in Nepal to cultivate, process, or sell this plant. But the demand is real.

Nepal could export curry leaves in different forms: fresh, dried, powdered, or even freeze-dried. We already do this for timur (Sichuan pepper) and cardamom. Why not the curry leaf too?

Curry leaves are gaining attention in organic markets, gourmet kitchens, and even beauty products. Chefs use them in fusion dishes. Health lovers drink curry leaf tea. Cosmetic companies experiment with curry leaf oil.

It’s not just a spice. It’s a functional ingredient, one with a story and value.

In many Nepali homes, curry leaves are already used in cooking. Known locally as ‘meetho neem,’ this plant adds flavor to dals, curries, and pickles. But we don’t often grow it ourselves.

What if every household had one curry leaf tree? It’s simple, affordable, and powerful.

The tree is hardy and evergreen. It thrives in warm climates. It grows in pots, backyards, and fields. You can grow it from seeds or cuttings. It needs sunlight, compost-rich soil, and a little care. One tree can provide all the leaves a family needs and more.

I’ve traveled the world carrying my spice kit, especially fried curry leaves. In Mexico, during a Formula One race, I ran out. I called the Indian Embassy. To my surprise, a kind man invited me to his home to pick some. That’s the power of shared food traditions.

In Nepal, we could take this further. Encourage every family to grow a tree. In villages, urban homes, schoolyards. Teach how to grow it. Use it in food and medicine. Dry it. Sell it.

On a bigger scale, the tree grows well in farms too. Space them out one and a half to two meters. Use compost. Harvest leaves every few months. One mature tree gives one to two kilos a year.

It can be a good source of income. Farmers could supply local markets, or export dried or powdered leaves.

Curry leaves clean the air. Their roots prevent soil erosion. Bees love them. They don’t need much water. They cool the surroundings. Growing more of them helps the environment. Medicinally, they support the liver, aid digestion, reduce fat, and boost immunity. They’re rich in iron and vitamin A, good for eyes and blood.

Nepal can lead this, but others can follow. From the southern USA to Israel, curry leaf trees can grow in many climates. They can be grown in gardens, on balconies, or using new techniques like hydroponics.

We need awareness. Schools and communities could distribute grow kits. Chefs can promote the leaf in recipes. Governments and NGOs can support it with training and small grants.

Even small entrepreneurs can build businesses making dried leaves, curry leaf teas, oils, or extracts.

To me, curry leaves are more than just a flavor. They are memory, identity, and health. From the roadside of Malekhu to kitchens in Qatar and Mexico, they’ve been part of my journey.

It’s time we give this leaf the respect it deserves. Let’s stop calling it grass. And let’s plant one tree in every home. Because with every leaf we grow, we bring back something valuable—to our plates, to our health, and to Mother Earth.

The author is a London-based R&D chef

There is something magical about the sharp, citrusy tingle of timmur on the tongue. The sensation is bold and unmistakable. For Nepalis, it brings back memories of home—of warm meals, steep hills, and the smell of mountain air. Timmur is more than a spice. It’s part of our culture, medicine, and identity.

Known locally as timmur, and internationally as timur or Zanthoxylum armatum, this wild pepper has long been used in pickles, meat dishes, and chutneys. It’s also valued in traditional healing. In Nepal, it’s everywhere—but beyond South Asia, few people know it exists. That must change. Timmur has the power to connect Nepal’s farms with the global spice market. With a little effort and imagination, this tiny fruit could become a global sensation.

Timmur is a hardy shrub. It grows naturally in Nepal’s mid-hill regions, between 1,000 and 2,300 meters. You can find it on village slopes, backyard gardens, and even city balconies. It survives with little care. It doesn’t need much water. It resists pests. And its fruit is packed with aroma and flavor. In many homes, people grow a few timmur bushes in pots. They germinate seeds in trays during February or March. When seedlings have five or six leaves, they are moved to larger pots or soil. A little compost and partial sunlight is enough to keep the plant happy.

On farms, timmur grows in small plots and large fields. Farmers prepare the land before the monsoon. They dig pits, add compost, and plant young shrubs a few meters apart. Most plants are watered by rain alone. After three or four years, the plants begin to fruit. Harvesting is simple. The husks are picked by hand, dried in the sun, and stored in airtight containers. With care—pruning, mulching, and regular weeding—timmur bushes remain productive for years.

Right now, timmur is mostly grown in Nepal and nearby regions. But its climate needs—temperate air, moderate altitude, and loamy soil—exist in many parts of the world. Trials could begin in places like the Pacific Northwest of the USA, northern India, or even Israel. These countries already grow other medicinal or aromatic plants. Timmur could fit right in.

Researchers are also asking if timmur could grow without soil? Hydroponics is changing the way people grow food in cities. But since timmur is a woody shrub, it doesn’t grow easily in water-based systems. Still, with vertical aeroponics or deep water culture, it might be possible. This is an area for future experiments.

People don’t just use timmur for flavor. It has long been used as medicine. It helps digestion. It eases bloating. Its oils fight bacteria in the throat and gums. It reduces joint pain. It improves appetite. And it’s full of antioxidants. In many ways, it stands beside other global ‘super spices’ like turmeric, black pepper, and ginger. Its benefits are known in Nepali households, but they deserve to be known everywhere.

There are many reasons. Few people outside Nepal know about it. There’s little branding. Packaging is poor. Processing and grading are inconsistent. Export systems are weak. Even its name creates confusion. Some call it timmur. Others call it szechuan pepper. But it’s not the same as the Chinese variety. Still, the link is useful. Marketing it as ‘Himalayan szechuan pepper’ might help foreign buyers understand it better.

To go global, timmur needs a push. Timmur’s journey must begin with stories. Food bloggers, chefs, and Nepalis abroad can show the world how to use it. Online videos, recipes, and cookbooks can create demand. Next, farmers’ groups in Nepal must improve drying, grading, and packaging. Labels should be clear. Export rules must be followed. Government and private investors can help.

Meanwhile, scientists can study the plant’s chemical compounds. They can research its health benefits. They can help create new markets—in food, health, and natural remedies. Urban gardeners around the world should get starter kits. These kits should include seeds, soil tips, and grow guides in different languages. That way, even a small balcony in Berlin or Boston could grow a little piece of Nepal.

Timmur tells a story of Nepal. Of hills and herbs. Of tradition and taste. Of resilience and richness. It grows without fuss and heals without harm. In a world filled with artificial flavors and factory-made food, timmur offers something real. Something wild. Something deeply human. All it needs is one chance. Just one bite and the world will never forget that tingle.

The author is a London-based R&D chef

Every year, in the hills of Nepal, the arrival of April and May brings with it a familiar sound—the haunting call of a bird echoing through the forests: ‘kafal pakyo, kafal pakyo.’

This call, meaning ‘the kafal has ripened’ in Nepali, is sung by the short-winged cuckoo (Cuculus micropterus), a migratory bird. The bird’s song reminds locals of the seasonal fruit kafal, also known as the Himalayan Bayberry or Box Myrtle (Myrica Esculenta), found in the mid-hill forests of South Asia including Nepal.

For many Nepalis, this fruit isn’t just a seasonal delicacy but part of folk memory, culture, and tradition. 

One popular Nepali folklore tells the story of two orphan siblings. After their parents died, the elder brother left his younger sister in the forest, pointing to a kafal tree and promising to return when the fruits ripened. Seasons changed, and the sister waited alone, surviving on forest fruits. When the kafal finally ripened, her brother didn’t return. Heartbroken and lonely, the girl eventually died. It’s said that her soul turned into a bird that still sings, ‘kafal pakyo,’ as she searches for her brother.

Another story speaks of two lovers. The boy, before leaving to find work, told the girl he would return when the kafal ripened. But he never came back. The girl, heartbroken, died and became the cuckoo bird that returns every season, reminding the world that the fruit is ready but her beloved is still gone.

A similar tale from India’s Uttarakhand region is equally tragic. It’s about a widow and her daughter. One morning, the mother brought home some kafal after collecting grass and told her daughter they would eat the fruits together in the evening. The obedient daughter waited patiently, never touching a single fruit. But when the mother returned and found fewer fruits in the basket—withered by the afternoon heat—she suspected the girl had eaten some. In a moment of anger and exhaustion, she slapped her daughter. The girl fell, hit her head on a stone, and died.

Only later did the mother discover that the fruit had shrunk in the heat and rehydrated overnight in the cool air. Realizing her mistake, the mother died in grief. It’s believed both mother and daughter became birds. Today, the daughter’s bird still cries out, ‘kafal pako, me ni chakho’ (the kafals are ripe, but I have not tasted them.)

For most Nepalis, the kafal is a fruit to chew, enjoy for its tangy sweetness, and spit out the seed. But beyond Nepal, the fruit has found varied uses. In China, kafal is used for flavoring alcohol, snacks, and other foods. Its red color is also extracted as a natural food dye. The leaves are used to add aroma to soups and broths and are even dried as spices. In Japan, the fruit is preserved in syrup and eaten as a dessert. It’s also used in jams and baked goods.

Realizing the potential of kafal, a resident of Uttarakhand, Deepak Petshali, started experimenting with it. In his village of Petshaal in the Almora district, Deepak created a herbal tea from the fruit under his brand ‘Back to Nature.’

This herbal kafal tea isn’t only tasty but also packed with health benefits. Rich in antioxidants and vitamin C, it’s said to help with anemia, asthma, indigestion, constipation, and common colds. The process includes drying both the fruit and leaves, mixing them with spices like cloves and cardamom, and turning it into a flavorful herbal infusion. Today, Deepak’s kafal tea is gaining popularity not only in Uttarakhand but across India and even abroad.

So the question arises: If others can explore the full potential of this fruit, why not us? Nepal is rich in biodiversity, indigenous knowledge, and seasonal treasures like kafal. But we have often overlooked the commercial and medicinal value of our native plants. While the fruit continues to be consumed casually, its economic and health potential remains largely untapped in Nepal.

With rising interest in herbal products, organic farming, and traditional remedies, now is the time for us to look at our natural resources with new eyes. From Kafal-based tea, juice, jam, and pickles, to herbal medicine and skincare, the possibilities are wide open.

It would not only help preserve our traditions and folk stories but also create income opportunities for rural communities. Local entrepreneurs, cooperatives, and youth groups could lead this movement, turning a seasonal fruit into a source of pride and prosperity.

The next time you hear the bird calling ‘kafal pakyo’ in the hills, pause and remember the stories it carries—the waiting sister, the heartbroken lover, the obedient daughter, the grieving mother.

But let it also remind you of the fruit's unrealized potential. Kafal is not just a memory of spring. It can also be a gift for the future—if we choose to act.

The author is a London-based R&D chef

Aalash, alsi, tisi, or simply flaxseeds—whatever name you call them by—these seeds have made a surprising comeback. Once known as a poor man’s oilseed, flaxseeds are now being promoted as a superfood by social media influencers across the world. While sesame seeds have always been the preferred choice for chutneys (achar) in Nepal, flaxseeds were usually left out. Even flaxseed oil, now praised as healthy, was traditionally used only by poor families in Nepal and Bihar. It was rarely seen in kitchens. Instead, its main uses were in soap making, paints, varnishes, and linoleum. Some people also used it for hair and skincare, or as animal feed.

Long before influencers made it trendy, the ancient Ayurvedic texts had already highlighted the many benefits of flaxseeds. However, this knowledge remained within the circles of traditional health practitioners and never reached the wider public.

Before diving into the many health benefits of flaxseeds, it’s important to be aware of some possible side effects. For most adults, flaxseed is generally safe. But adding it to your daily diet may lead to more frequent bowel movements and might cause bloating, gas, stomachache, or nausea—especially in higher doses.

Pregnant women are advised to avoid flaxseeds because they can mimic estrogen in the body. This hormone-like behavior can also be a concern for people with hormone-sensitive conditions such as breast or ovarian cancer. Some types of flaxseeds that are low in alpha-linolenic acid (ALA) may raise triglyceride levels in the blood, which can be harmful for people with high cholesterol.

Additionally, flaxseeds may increase the risk of bleeding during or after surgery. Medical experts recommend stopping their use at least two weeks before any scheduled surgery.The outer cover of flaxseeds is difficult to digest, so it should be crushed before use. The best method is to dry-roast the seeds, crush them, and then use them.

Flaxseed, or Linum usitatissimum, is believed to be one of the oldest cultivated crops—grown over 6,000 years ago. It originated in Mesopotamia and was used by ancient Egyptians and Babylonians. Over time, flax spread to Europe, Asia, and eventually the Americas. In Nepal, it’s mainly grown in the Madhesh region and inner Madhesh, where it continues to be a part of traditional farming systems.

Today, science is catching up with ancient wisdom. Flaxseeds are now recognized globally for their exceptional nutritional value.Flaxseeds are a rich source of ALA, an essential omega-3 fatty acid that supports heart health, reduces inflammation, and boosts brain function. They contain both soluble and insoluble fiber, which aids digestion, regulates bowel movements, and supports gut health. It also helps manage blood sugar and lowers cholesterol.

It’s packed with lignans. These natural antioxidants reduce oxidative stress and may lower the risk of chronic illnesses like heart disease and cancer. They also help balance hormones, especially in women. The fiber content promotes a feeling of fullness, which can help reduce calorie intake. Omega-3s also support a healthy metabolism.

Flaxseeds help improve skin texture by reducing dryness, redness, and irritation, giving your skin a healthier glow. According to Ayurveda, flaxseeds support hormonal balance in both men and women. They are particularly helpful during menopause and puberty and can ease symptoms like cramps and hot flashes.

The omega-3s and lignans have anti-inflammatory effects that may benefit those suffering from arthritis, heart disease, and diabetes. In Ayurvedic medicine, flaxseeds are considered tridoshic—meaning they are suitable for all body types. They are believed to warm the body, calm the mind, and balance Vata, Pitta, and Kapha doshas.

Flaxseed oil is also widely used in Ayurveda for its internal and external health benefits. It’s believed to improve digestion (agni) and promote vitality (ojas), contributing to overall well-being.

Flaxseeds are not just healthy—they’re versatile in the kitchen. In Nepal, both traditional and modern dishes now feature flaxseeds in creative ways. 

Flaxseed powder drink (Sattu-style): A popular breakfast item, this drink is made by mixing roasted flaxseed powder with warm water. Add almonds, a pinch of black salt, and cumin powder for extra flavor and nutrition.

Flaxseed in bread: Mix flaxseed powder into dough for roti or paratha. It adds nutrients without changing the taste much and blends easily with other grains. 

Flaxseed achar chhop (dry chutney): Combine flaxseeds with sesame, coriander, and dried chilies to make a dry chutney that pairs perfectly with dal and rice. 

Flaxseed oil: This oil can be used in salad dressings or drizzled over cooked vegetables, soups, or lentils. Its nutty flavor adds depth to simple dishes. 

Flaxseed pina (cake): Add flaxseed powder to traditional Nepali cakes to improve texture and nutrition. It’s a great substitute for unhealthy fats in baking.

Flaxseeds, once ignored and underestimated, have now emerged as a modern-day superfood. With their rich nutrient content, ease of use in cooking, and long history in Ayurvedic healing, they deserve a place in every Nepali kitchen.

As Nepal continues to promote flaxseed farming, there is also economic potential. With proper processing and branding, flaxseeds could become a valuable export product for Nepal, tapping into the growing global demand for healthy, plant-based foods.

The author is a London-based R&D chef

Horse gram, locally known as ‘gahat’ in Nepal, is a powerful, protein-rich lentil that has been part of Nepali kitchens for generations. Especially popular in winter, it’s believed to generate warmth in the body. In rural areas of Nepal, this dark brown pulse is a seasonal staple, often turned into a hearty soup or side dish. Mothers and grandmothers traditionally mixed it with tuber vegetables like yam and taro, making the dish both filling and flavorful.

But horse gram is not only loved in Nepal. Many cultures across South Asia and Africa also value it for both its health benefits and culinary uses. While it’s often eaten as soup in Nepal, we will explore other creative ways to include horse gram in your diet—bringing traditional wisdom and modern taste together.

In Nepal, we mostly use horse gram as lentil soup (dal), or inside dishes like tarkari (vegetable curry). But there’s so much more we can do with it. Try boiling it until just soft and mixing it with chopped bell peppers, red onions, cumin, salt, pepper, lemon juice, and olive oil for a refreshing salad. You can also sprinkle boiled horse gram on your daily meals for added crunch and nutrition.

Vegetarians and vegans can enjoy it in wraps, pancakes, or even as falafel. Once, I made a salad with baby spinach, beetroot, and boiled horse gram, topped with goat cheese. It was a big hit. This ancient legume is believed to have originated in the Indian subcontinent. While still underused compared to other pulses, its reputation as a ‘superfood’ is spreading fast.

Horse gram is full of nutrients. It is high in protein with around 22–25 percent of the nutrient, one of the best among plant-based foods. It is rich in Fiber and supports digestion. It’s low in fat and thus great for weight control. It’s iron rich as well and helps prevent anemia. The calcium and phosphorus in it strengthens bones. It also has antioxidants that help detoxify the body. It has complex carbohydrates that give steady energy without spiking blood sugar.

Horse gram has been valued for its healing properties in both Ayurveda and Nepali traditional medicine. It keeps you warm. Considered a ‘hot’ food, it’s perfect for winter. It helps maintain body temperature and protect against cold. The fiber in horse gram promotes healthy digestion and reduces hunger, helping with weight management. Its low glycemic index makes it useful for diabetics. The energy is released slowly, avoiding sudden sugar spikes.

Rich in antioxidants, it helps lower bad cholesterol (LDL) and raise good cholesterol (HDL). Traditional use includes treating kidney stones and promoting urinary health. Its iron and antioxidant content strengthen the body’s natural defenses.

In Nepal, gahat is commonly used in a spicy soup made with garlic, ginger, turmeric, and spices, a traditional pancake using ground horse gram and rice flour, a thick curry with yam or taro, a strong, earthy version of regular lentil soup. In India, it appears in regional dishes such as a tangy soup made from horse gram and spices, a thick broth eaten with rice, and a gram flour curry served with rice or bread.

Though mostly eaten in South Asia, horse gram is now making its way into kitchens around the globe. In Africa, it’s used in stews and porridges, sometimes mixed with other beans for protein. In the Western world, as plant-based diets grow, horse gram is gaining popularity. It’s added to baking mixes and used in vegan protein powders, for health and fitness. It’s also incorporated in sprouted salads for maximum nutrition. In South America, some countries have started using horse gram in traditional bean dishes.

Horse gram needs soaking overnight to reduce cooking time and improve digestion. Horse gram is not just a food, it’s a tradition, a medicine, and a source of nourishment. In an age where fast food is taking over, this humble lentil offers something real: warmth, strength, and lasting energy.

With growing global interest in superfoods and plant-based living, horse gram is finally receiving the attention it deserves. Whether eaten as dal in a Nepali village or added to a salad in a Western kitchen, this powerful pulse is a smart and sustainable choice.

The author is a London-based R&D chef

For many who grew up in rural Nepal, the sharp, tangy taste of kabro (Ficus lacor) pickle brings back warm childhood memories. This seasonal treat was once a favourite among children, who often ate the young shoots and fruits straight from the trees. The fresh leaves, buds, and fruits were not just tasty—they were part of everyday cooking in many homes.

But eating too much kabro had its side effects. Many children joked about how it could cause an upset stomach or diarrhea. Still, this wild ingredient had a special place in both the kitchen and traditional medicine. Sadly, like many other native foods, kabro is disappearing from Nepali households, replaced by modern and processed foods.

What is kabro?

Kabro, or Ficus lacor, is a large, fast-growing tree found in Nepal, India, Bhutan, Myanmar, and across Southeast Asia. It belongs to the Moraceae family, which also includes figs and mulberries. The tree grows well in tropical and subtropical climates. Apart from feeding humans, it also supports wildlife—its fruits are a favourite of many birds and animals.

In Nepal, making pickles from kabro is an age-old tradition. The young buds, leaves, and fruits are harvested during specific seasons and used to make a tangy, slightly bitter pickle that goes perfectly with rice and dhido (a traditional buckwheat porridge).

The best time to pick kabro is when the buds or leaves are young and reddish in colour. Once they mature, they are mostly used as animal fodder.

Ingredients for kabro pickle

• Tender kabro shoots or young leaves
• Turmeric powder
• Salt
• Timur (Sichuan pepper)
• Red chilies
• Cardamom
• Ginger and garlic paste
• Mustard oil
• Lemon juice

Methodology 

Wash the young leaves and shoots properly. Lightly boil them to remove some of the bitterness and soften the texture. Let them cool, then mix with turmeric, salt, and other spices. Sauté the mixture in mustard oil until it smells rich and aromatic. Add lemon juice for a tangy twist. Leave the pickle in sunlight for a few days to let it mature. The result is a delicious blend of bitter, sour, and spicy flavours—a taste that brings back memories for many Nepalis.

Kabro in traditional Medicine

Kabro isn’t just a tasty pickle. It has long been valued for its healing properties in traditional medicine. In small amounts, kabro supports digestion and relieves bloating. It’s often used to treat indigestion and gastric discomfort. Packed with antioxidants, it helps strengthen the immune system. The bark and leaves have anti-inflammatory properties. Some studies suggest kabro helps lower blood sugar.

A tradition at risk

As more people move to cities and processed foods become common, traditional items like kabro pickle are being forgotten. Reviving them is important—not just for nostalgia, but to protect Nepal’s rich culinary heritage and improve food diversity.

How to bring kabro pickle back

Promote in local communities

Raise awareness of kabro’s health benefits and traditional value.=

Feature in restaurants

Traditional eateries can include kabro pickle on their menus to attract curious food lovers.

Encourage small-scale production

Kabro pickle can be packaged and sold as a specialty item, offering economic opportunities for rural communities.

Kabro beyond Nepal

Kabro isn’t just known in Nepal. Cultures across Asia use it in their own ways. For example, in Northern Thailand, a delicious curry is made using the young leaves of Ficus lacor.

Here’s a simple way to prepare kabro curry with Chicken or Pork, inspired by Thai cuisine. Pick only the soft young leaves, removing the thick leaf stems. Fry Thai curry paste (or make your own curry paste) in a pot until aromatic. Add chicken or pork, and stir until the meat is well-coated and cooked. Pour in water and bring to a boil. Add the kabro leaves and boil until they are tender. Turn off the heat. The curry is ready to serve. This dish has a rich, earthy flavour and is a wonderful way to enjoy kabro beyond pickles.

Bringing back a lost flavor

The kabro pickle is a piece of Nepal’s food history. As we explore new tastes, we should not forget the value of the past. By reintroducing kabro into our diets, we are not only reconnecting with tradition but also making a healthy, sustainable choice. Let’s bring kabro back to our kitchens and preserve this forgotten gem for future generations.

The author is a London-based R&D chef

One quiet day at our local petrol station in Sital Bazar, Dhading, I found myself sipping tea and munching on biscuits with a few locals. Our usual political banter led us to talk about thinkers like Rup Chandra Bista, the philosopher from Daman in Makawanpur district, known for his ‘Thaha’ (meaning ‘to know’) movement—what many today compare to the modern Right to Information. As we chatted, a typical village scene played out in front of us—hens scratching the dirt for food and one rooster, or ‘bhale’ in our local tongue, chasing them relentlessly.

Frustrated by the noisy spectacle, I joked, “Someone should give that rooster a vasectomy!” We all laughed, but that offhand comment suddenly shifted our conversation to a fascinating subject I had never explored before—the famed badhiya or badiya chicken of Lumbini Province, especially from Dang district. Despite being deeply interested in Nepali cuisine, I realized I had never even tasted this dish.

The idea of vasectomy chicken might sound odd at first, but it has deep roots in traditional farming practices. It involves castrating male chickens to improve the quality of the meat. In the past, farmers would perform this painful procedure without anesthesia, often during the scorching summer months, which made recovery difficult for the birds. The goal, however, was to produce a chicken that was fatter, more tender, and more flavorful—qualities that have made badhiya chicken a treasured delicacy.

With time, what began as a rough home practice has become a more structured and humane farming technique. Today, various municipalities and their Agriculture and Livestock Development Departments support local farmers with training and resources. Thanks to modern veterinary care, anesthesia is now used during the procedure, making it safer and more ethical. Additionally, farmers receive government grants of Rs. 100 per bird, making the process not only sustainable but profitable too.

Known as badgiya chicken in some areas, this castrated rooster has become an icon of Nepali culinary pride. In Kathmandu and other urban centers, it’s  no longer just a rural dish—it’s a celebration of heritage. Communities such as the Tharu and Badi have kept the tradition alive through generations, passing down both the techniques of poultry care and the secret family recipes that turn this chicken into a mouthwatering meal.

Cooking badhiya chicken is an art form in itself. Traditionally, it’s slow-cooked with spices and herbs that complement the natural richness of the meat. Some prefer to roast it over an open flame, while others stew it in spicy gravy. Either way, the taste became unforgettable—tender, aromatic, and deeply satisfying. For many in the Tharu community, serving this chicken during festivals or special events is a matter of pride and tradition.

Interestingly, Nepal is not alone in this practice. In France, a similar method is used to produce capon, a castrated rooster that’s considered a gourmet dish, especially during holidays. In Spain, capón is part of the festive table too. These global examples show that the idea of castrating poultry for better flavor is not unique to Nepal—it’s part of a wider culinary story that spans continents.

This brings up an exciting thought: What if badhiya chicken from Dang were served in fine-dining restaurants around the world? What if it found a place on international menus alongside dishes like French duck confit or Japanese wagyu? Our humble dish has all the ingredients to make a global impact—rich taste, cultural significance, and a compelling story.

For many in Nepal’s farming and food sectors, the goal of exporting badhiya chicken is more than just a business idea—it’s a chance to share a piece of Nepal’s soul with the world. But doing that requires careful steps: standardizing the process, maintaining hygiene and quality, and building a strong brand that reflects both tradition and innovation.

Government agencies, agricultural experts, and local communities must work together to scale up this initiative. By embracing both modern techniques and traditional knowledge, Nepal can offer something truly unique to global food lovers. And as we move forward, we must remember that the heart of this story lies with the farmers—the people who have preserved this practice for generations, often with limited resources but unlimited passion.

Ever since I heard about badhiya chicken, I’ve been longing to taste it. As I write this, I imagine myself returning to Nepal, catching a flight to Dang, and finally sitting down to enjoy this delicacy. More than just a meal, it would be a moment of connection—to culture, community, and the creative spirit that makes Nepali cuisine so special.

The author is a London-based R&D chef

Ghiyasuddin Tughlaq, the founder of the Tughlaq dynasty in India, heard about Simraungarh, a flourishing settlement deep inside the jungle. While returning from Bengal, he ordered his army to conquer it. The last king of the Karnata dynasty, Harisingh Dev, didn’t attempt to resist. Upon hearing of the approaching Tughlaq army, he abandoned the fort and fled, carrying his goddess, Tulja Bhawani, with him.

Sometime in 1324, while escaping northward, his army grew hungry. The goddess Tulja Bhawani instructed them to eat the first animal they saw in the morning, which happened to be a water buffalo. Later, Harisingh Dev’s dynasty ruled the Kathmandu Valley, integrating and establishing Newar culture.

This is the story we often hear about how the water buffalo became a staple in Nepali cuisine.

According to Bikram Vaidya, a renowned US-based chef, researcher, and writer, Harisingh Dev’s ancestors came from southern India, where the tradition of sacrificing water buffalo and consuming its meat was already well established. He suggests that they brought this practice with them. For over 2,000 years, water buffalo has remained the most prized and primary source of protein for the Newar people.

Throughout the history of the Indian subcontinent, the water buffalo has held deep cultural and ritualistic importance. Archaeological evidence from the Harappan civilization (dating back 5,000 years) depicts the sacrifice of water buffalo, highlighting its role in both sustenance and spirituality. This practice spread across regions, taking on unique expressions among different communities, including the Newars.

The tradition of eating buffalo meat, popularly known as ‘buff’, is also linked to the Mahesh Pal dynasty, which ruled parts of the Kathmandu Valley. Historical accounts suggest that buffalo meat consumption was institutionalized during their reign to promote sustainable food practices. Male buffaloes, which were not useful for dairy production, became a primary source of meat, ensuring that no part of the animal went to waste.

During the Malla dynasty (12th to 18th centuries), the Newars flourished as a community deeply engaged in trade, art, and culture. The Malla kings’ patronage of festivals and rituals reinforced the role of water buffalo in religious offerings. Male buffaloes, in particular, were used in sacrificial ceremonies during major festivals such as Dashain, Indra Jatra, and Pachali Bhairav Jatra. This tradition continues today, symbolizing the connection between the buffalo and divine appeasement.

This philosophy aligns with the modern ‘nose-to-tail’ culinary movement, which emphasizes using every part of an animal. For the Newars, this approach was both practical and celebratory. Each organ and cut of the buffalo was transformed into a delicacy, enriching their cuisine with a diverse range of flavors and textures.

According to Bikram Vaidya, when animals are slaughtered during special occasions, over 30 different dishes are prepared using various parts of the buffalo. Newar cuisine exemplifies the principle of zero waste, ensuring that every part of the male buffalo is utilized. Here is a glimpse into some of the most remarkable buffalo dishes in Newar cuisine:

• Nhyapu (Buffalo Brain): A delicacy cooked with spices, creating a creamy and rich dish.
• Tisya (Buffalo Meat): Tender cuts cooked in a variety of ways, from grilling to stewing.
• Mye (Buffalo Tongue): Marinated and grilled, valued for its chewy texture.
• Swan (Buffalo Lungs): Often stuffed and fried, showcasing innovative cooking techniques.
• Sapumhicha: A celebrated dish of buffalo tripe stuffed with bone marrow and then fried.
• Go (Stomach): Cooked in curries or stir-fried with spices.
• Sen (Buffalo Liver): Prepared with mustard oil and garlic for a rich flavor.
• Hi (Blood): Coagulated and spiced to create a savory dish.
• Chwahi (White Blood): Another unique preparation of buffalo blood.
• Dayekagu La (Cooked Meat): A staple in every feast, featuring richly spiced buffalo meat.
• Takha La (Jellied Meat): A winter delicacy made by slow-cooking meat and allowing it to set into a jelly.
• Sanya Khuna: A spiced, jelly-like preparation made from buffalo soup.
• Haku Chhwela: Smoky grilled meat marinated in spices.
• Mana Chhwela: Boiled and marinated buffalo meat.
• Bhutan: Stir-fried intestines, a crunchy and flavorful dish.
• Chhyala (Head Meat): A flavorful preparation using meat from the buffalo’s head.
• Mikha (Eyes): Cooked and spiced, exemplifying the true nose-to-tail philosophy.
• Bosyanndra (Blood-Filled Intestine): A sausage-like preparation made with seasoned blood.
• Kachila (Raw Meat): Seasoned raw minced meat, often served with toasted flatbread.
• Chyakula: A unique dish made from specific cuts of buffalo.
• Khaya Chhwela (Chicken Chhwela): An adaptation using chicken.
• Nyaya Chhwela (Fish Chhwela): A version made with fish, adding diversity to the spread.
• Jan La (Back Meat): A prized cut prepared with care.
• Takula (Large Cuts): Often slow-cooked for a tender texture.
• Twanang: Another specialty cut prepared in traditional ways.
• Hyakula: A key part of the feast, highlighting specific cuts.
• Nhyepang (Tail): Cooked with spices for a chewy delight.
• Sapu (Tripe): Used in various dishes, often paired with spicy sauces.
• Amphi Chhyala: Meat prepared using a unique method involving aged spices.
• Kaa Kwa (Meatball): Meatballs made from buffalo meat and herbs.

When I set out to discuss buffalo dishes in Newar cuisine, I knew my knowledge and language skills were limited. Additionally, I haven’t tasted many of the dishes I have described here. However, as American writer Maya Angelou once said:Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better. With this in mind, I have made an attempt, and I encourage young Nepali food lovers and food scientists to document and preserve the rich variety of buffalo dishes in Newar cuisine.

The author is a London-based R&D chef

In the lively streets of Malekhu Bazar, where the Trishuli River flows with a soothing rhythm, my childhood memories are filled with the smell of fried fish and the sound of chilled beer bottles clinking. My maternal uncle, Chabilal Marahatta, known as Chap Baje, was a local legend. He started a small stall selling fried fish and aalu chap (spicy potato cutlet fritters), which quickly became a must-stop spot for travelers on the Prithvi Highway. But what made his stall truly unforgettable was the rare appearance of Jala Kapur machha, a fish so special it turned ordinary days into celebrations.

Jala Kapur, meaning “camphor of water,” is known as the king of fish in Nepal. Its buttery texture, few bones, and melt-in-the-mouth quality made it a favorite among those who could afford it. Back then, it was considered a luxury, reserved for the elite. Chap Baje’s stall was a cultural hotspot where travelers, drivers, and officers gathered to enjoy the flavors of Nepal’s rivers.

In those days, there were no mobile phones or fancy electric freezers. Instead, we relied on kerosene-powered fridges, often repurposed from old INGO vaccination programs. These fridges were a rare luxury, and only a few shops in Malekhu Bazar could afford them. Chap Baje was one of them.

Whenever we managed to get a Jala Kapur, it was a big event. The fish, with its delicate texture and rich flavor, was saved for special guests—VIPs, officers, and influential drivers who could make or break a business with their support. I remember the excitement when a Jala Kapur arrived. My uncle would carefully divide it, saying, “This piece is for the Hakim Saab, this one for the driver, and this one for the special guest who might stop by.”

In those days, relationships were built on respect and gratitude. One such tradition was bheti—a small gift or token of appreciation. Whenever we had a prized catch like Jala Kapur or Asala, I would accompany my cousin to deliver these fish as bheti to the homes of officers and influential figures. It was a way of telling them that they were valued and ensuring their continued support.

Jala Kapur, with its firm, buttery flesh, was the star of Chap Baje’s stall. Found in the cold, fast-flowing rivers of Nepal, this fish was a symbol of purity and quality. Its delicate flavor needed little seasoning—just a sprinkle of salt, a dash of turmeric, and a hint of local spices. Whether grilled, steamed, or fried, Jala Kapur was a dish that left a lasting impression.

But Jala Kapur isn’t just delicious; it’s also incredibly nutritious. This cold-water fish is high in protein which is essential for muscle growth and repair. It’s low in fat and thus a healthy choice for weight management. It’s also rich in Omega-3 fatty acids that promotes heart health, reduces inflammation, and supports brain function besides being packed with vitamins and minerals, including Vitamin D, B-complex vitamins, and selenium, which boost immunity and overall health.Its natural diet of aquatic invertebrates enhances its nutritional profile, making it a wholesome addition to any meal.

The term Jala Kapur is a local name used in Nepal, and its scientific classification remains unclear. According to FishBase, the name Jalkapoor is associated with several species, including Pangasius pangasius, Clupisoma garua, Raiamas guttatus, Eutropiichthys murius, and Clupisoma montanum. More research is needed to accurately identify the specific species referred to as Jala Kapur in different regions of Nepal.

Jala Kapur isn’t just prized in Nepal. It’s also significant in neighboring regions like Bihar and Bangladesh. In Bihar, it’s often caught in the Gandak, Kosi, and Ganga rivers and is popular in Mithila cuisine, where it’s prepared in mustard-based curries or smoked and sun-dried for later use. In Bangladesh, it’s considered a delicacy in regions like Sylhet, Rajshahi, and Barisal, where it’s commonly prepared in Shorshe Bata Jhol (mustard-based gravy) or Panta Bhat (fermented rice dish).

One of the most beloved ways to prepare Jala Kapur is in the form of Malekhu Ko Jhol Macha, a tangy and spicy fish curry that captures the essence of Nepali cuisine. Here’s how you can make it at home:

Ingredients (Serves 4-6)

• Jala Kapur fish: 1 kg (cleaned and cut into pieces)
• Mustard oil: 3 tablespoons
• Fenugreek seeds (methi): 1 teaspoon
• Timur (Szechuan pepper): 1/2 teaspoon
• Green chilies: 4-5 (slit lengthwise)
• Tomatoes: 2 medium (chopped)
• Onions: 2 medium (finely chopped)
• Garlic: 6-7 cloves (minced)
• Ginger: 1-inch piece (grated)
• Turmeric powder: 1 teaspoon
• Red chili powder: 1 teaspoon
• Roasted mustard seeds: 2 tablespoons (ground into a paste)
• Roasted sesame seeds: 1 tablespoon (ground into a paste)
• Local Sun kagati or chuk amilo (lemon molasses): 2 teaspoons (for souring)
• Salt: To taste
• Fresh coriander leaves: For garnish

Instructions

• Clean the Jala Kapur thoroughly and marinate it with salt and turmeric powder for five minutes.
• Heat mustard oil in a deep pan until it smokes. Reduce the heat and add fenugreek seeds. Let them splutter for a few seconds.
• Add chopped onions, garlic, and ginger. Sauté until the onions turn golden brown.
• Stir in the chopped tomatoes, green chilies, turmeric powder, and red chili powder. Cook until the tomatoes soften and the oil separates.
• Gently add the marinated fish pieces to the pan. Coat them well with the spice mixture and cook for two to three minutes.
• Add the roasted mustard and sesame seed paste, along with Sun kagati juice or chuk amilo. Stir well with Timur powder to combine.
• Add two cups of water and bring the curry to a gentle simmer. Cover and cook for 10-15 minutes, or until the fish is tender and the flavors blend together.
• Sprinkle fresh coriander leaves on top and serve hot with steamed rice or chiura (beaten rice).

The author is a London-based R&D chef

Climate change is causing big problems for Nepal’s farming, putting food security, jobs, and the economy at risk. Scientists say Nepal is the fourth most vulnerable country in the world when it comes to climate impacts, and it also ranks high on the Global Hunger Index. The effects of climate change are already being felt in farming, forestry, and fishing. 

Experts warn that many districts in Nepal could face food shortages in the future. To tackle this, they recommend ‘Climate Smart Agriculture.’ But while new technologies are important, we shouldn’t forget the wisdom of our ancestors. Traditional food preservation methods, like fermentation, could be a powerful tool to fight food insecurity caused by climate change.

Fermentation is one of the oldest ways to preserve food. In Nepal, a country with diverse landscapes, cultures, and cuisines, fermentation has been a key part of life for centuries. From the high Himalayas to the Terai plains, every community has its own unique fermented foods. These foods are not just about survival—they are also about culture, nutrition, and flavor.

Fermentation is a natural process that uses bacteria or yeast to preserve food. It makes food last longer and adds new flavors and textures. Fermented foods are also rich in probiotics, which are good for gut health. In Nepal, with its 128 ethnic groups, fermented foods are a treasure trove of tradition and nutrition. Let’s take a closer look at some of these foods and how they can help us adapt to climate change.

Kinema (fermented soybean)

Kinema is a protein-rich food made from fermented soybeans. To make kinema, cooked soybeans are wrapped in banana leaves and left to ferment for a few days. The result is a sticky, strong-smelling food with a rich umami flavor. It’s used in stews, stir-fries, or eaten as a side dish.

Chhurpi (fermented cheese)

Chhurpi is a type of cheese made from yak or cow milk. It comes in two forms: soft and hard. The hard version can last for years, making it a great food for harsh climates. Soft chhurpi is used in soups and stews, while the hard version is chewed as a snack. 

Serkam (fermented butter) 

Serkam is fermented butter used in Tibetan and Sherpa diets. It’s a key ingredient in butter tea and traditional stews. The fermentation process gives it a rich, unique flavor.

Gundruk (fermented leafy greens)

Gundruk is one of Nepal’s most famous fermented foods. It’s made from mustard, radish, or cauliflower leaves. The leaves are wilted, packed tightly, and left to ferment before being sun-dried. Gundruk is used in soups, curries, and as a pickle.

Sinki (fermented radish taproot)

Sinki is similar to gundruk but made from radish taproots. The radish is packed into bamboo containers and left to ferment for weeks. The result is a tangy, pungent food that can be stored for years.

Purano mula (fermented radish)

Up to 40 years ago, fermented radishes were a common sight in Kathmandu’s Asan Bazar. These radishes were used in pickles, stews, and other dishes, adding a unique flavor.

Tama (bamboo shoot) 

Tama is fermented bamboo shoots, a popular ingredient in Nepali cuisine. It’s used in curries, pickles, and chutneys, giving dishes a tangy flavor.

Akbare chili and salt (naturally fermented chili)

This simple yet powerful fermentation process involves preserving bird’s eye chili in salt. The result is a fiery condiment full of flavor.

Khalpi (fermented cucumber pickle)

Khalpi is a pickle made from overripe cucumbers. It’s fermented with salt, mustard seeds, and spices, creating a cooling and digestive-friendly condiment.

Dahi (yogurt) & lassi

Fermented milk products like yogurt and lassi are popular in Nepal. They are known for their probiotic benefits and are often set in clay pots to enhance flavor.

Masyaura, biriya, and tilkor tarua

These are protein-rich fermented foods made from lentils or black gram. They are used in curries and stews, providing essential nutrients.

Fermented mustard pickles

Mustard seeds are a key ingredient in Nepali pickles. They add a pungent flavor and have antimicrobial properties that help preserve the pickles.

Traditional alcoholic beverages

Fermentation is also used to make traditional drinks like tongba, jaad, and raksi. These beverages are part of cultural celebrations and rituals.

With climate change threatening food security, fermented foods offer a sustainable solution. They are easy to make, require no electricity, and can be stored for long periods. They are also packed with nutrients and probiotics, making them a healthy choice. As the world becomes more interested in gut health and probiotics, Nepal’s fermented foods could gain global attention. Scientists are already studying how these traditional methods can improve food security and health.

But perhaps the most important lesson is this: Adapting to climate change isn’t just about adopting new technologies. It’s also about revisiting the traditional knowledge of our communities. Fermented foods are a perfect example of how ancient wisdom can help us face modern challenges. By preserving and promoting these foods, we can ensure a more secure and sustainable future for Nepal.

The author is a London-based R&D chef

In my childhood home in Pokhara, ginger was never something we bought from the market. It grew quietly in our kitchen garden, a humble yet essential part of our daily lives. My mother, a firm believer in self-sufficiency, would plant ginger rhizomes in neat rows, and I, her little helper, would water them diligently. She would clear the soil, mix in rice husks for better drainage, and then let the ginger grow with minimal care. It was one of the easiest crops to cultivate—hardy, low-maintenance, and incredibly rewarding. When harvest time came, we would dig up the rhizomes, store them for the year, and even sell some when prices were high.

Ginger (Zingiber officinale) is believed to have originated in the tropical rainforests of Southeast Asia over 5,000 years ago. Ancient Sanskrit and Chinese texts highlight its medicinal properties, and it quickly became a prized commodity along the spice trade routes. From its origins, ginger traveled to India, where it became a cornerstone of Ayurvedic medicine and cuisine, and to China, where it was revered for its warming properties and ability to balance the body’s energies.

Nepal, nestled between these two cultural giants, naturally adopted ginger into its traditions. The fertile mid-hills of Nepal, with their subtropical to temperate climates, are ideal for ginger cultivation. 

According to Ghanashyam Chaudhary, in his paper for ‘Horticulture Nepal’, there are two main types of ginger varieties: Nashe (rich in fiber) and Boshe (low in fiber). The Boshe variety is considered superior due to its better yield, quality, and higher market price. Nashe varieties, with their high fiber content, are preferred by the spice industry for producing ginger powder.

Ginger thrives in well-drained, loamy soils enriched with organic matter, such as rice husks or compost—a practice I vividly remember from my mother’s garden. The crop requires minimal care, making it accessible even to small-scale farmers. While ginger is primarily cultivated, wild varieties can still be found in Nepal’s forests, particularly in the eastern and central regions. These wild varieties, though smaller and more pungent, are sometimes used in traditional remedies.

Ginger’s reputation as a superfood is well-deserved. Packed with bioactive compounds like gingerol, shogaol, and zingerone, it offers a wide range of health benefits. Ginger is a natural remedy for nausea, vomiting, and indigestion. Gingerol has potent anti-inflammatory and antioxidant effects, helping reduce muscle pain and symptoms of osteoarthritis.

Ginger’s antimicrobial properties help fight infections, while its warming effect improves circulation and immunity. Ginger may help lower blood pressure and cholesterol levels, reducing the risk of heart disease. Emerging research suggests ginger may inhibit the growth of certain cancer cells.

Ginger’s versatility in the kitchen is unmatched. In Nepal, it’s a key ingredient in traditional dishes like gundruk ko jhol (fermented leafy green soup) and purano achar (a traditional radish pickle). It’s also used to flavor teas, known as adhuwa chiya, which are especially popular during the cold winter months.

Globally, ginger is a staple in Asian stir-fries, Indian curries, and Middle Eastern desserts. It’s also used to make ginger candies, which are popular for soothing sore throats and nausea. Modern trends like ginger shots—small, concentrated doses of ginger juice—have gained popularity for their health benefits, particularly among health-conscious consumers. In Nepal, this trend is gradually gaining traction, with local entrepreneurs exploring opportunities to produce and market ginger-based products like juices, candies, and health supplements.

In Ayurveda, ginger is known as Mahaushadha, or the ‘great medicine,’ due to its wide-ranging therapeutic properties. It’s classified as a rasayana (rejuvenating herb) and is used to balance the vata and kapha doshas. Modern medicine has also embraced ginger, using it in various remedies.

Nepal has immense potential to become a major exporter of ginger, given its high-quality produce and organic farming practices. The global demand for ginger is on the rise, driven by its health benefits and culinary uses. Key export markets include India, China, the Middle East, and Europe.

However, challenges such as inadequate infrastructure, lack of processing facilities, and limited access to international markets hinder Nepal’s ginger export potential. Addressing these issues through government support, private sector investment, and international partnerships could unlock significant economic opportunities for Nepali farmers.

As Ghanashyam Chaudhary writes, improving storage capacity, reducing farming costs through mechanization, and developing efficient technical packages for ginger root rot management are crucial steps. Diversifying products and ensuring timely access to inputs like irrigation, fertilizer, and plant protection can further enhance ginger production. Collective marketing by farmers can also help them secure better prices for their produce.

The author is a London-based R&D chef

If anyone asked me, even in a dream, what my favorite spice is, my answer would always be fenugreek—methi dana, the methi seed. Perhaps it’s because it was my mother’s favorite spice. She never claimed methi as her favorite spice, but she used it to temper almost every curry, pickle, and achar she prepared. She would add methi when soaking rice for sel roti, Nepal’s favorite snack, shared by all 128 communities across the country.

One particular memory stands out: She used to prepare a summer drink called ‘misri kada.’ She soaked methi seeds overnight with rock sugar (misri) and strained the mixture to create a refreshing morning drink. This simple concoction helped us stay cool during the scorching summer heat. Methi’s magic was also evident in the western parts of Nepal, where dishes like the famous ‘chukani’ were always tempered with methi seeds, just like Kathmandu Valley’s renowned ‘choila’.

As a 44-year-old Nepal-born British chef, my current aim is to distinguish Nepali cuisine from other South Asian cuisines and establish its unique identity on the global food map. I believe methi will play a central role in this endeavor. While Indian and other South Asian kitchens often use cumin or mustard seeds for tempering, Nepali kitchens rely on methi dana. Did you know that the dominant flavor in India’s best butter chicken and the UK’s favorite chicken tikka masala comes from methi leaves? 

Methi’s origins can be traced back over 4,000 years to the fertile crescent region, where it was first cultivated in ancient Mesopotamia. Historical texts and archaeological evidence suggest that the Egyptians used methi as part of their embalming processes and as a flavoring agent in their bread. Its journey from the Middle East to the Indian subcontinent was facilitated by ancient trade routes. By the time methi reached Indian shores, it had already become integral to Ayurvedic medicine and Indian cuisine.

In India, the seeds (methi dana) and leaves (fresh methi or kasuri methi) are used in a variety of dishes. Methi seeds are small, golden-brown, and hard, with a slightly bitter taste that mellows and deepens when roasted or cooked. The leaves, on the other hand, are fresh, green, and aromatic, lending a unique flavor to curries, breads, and stir-fries.

One of the reasons methi is so revered in Indian cuisine is its versatility. Methi seeds are a common component of spice blends such as panch phoron and sambar powder. They add a distinct bitterness that balances the richness of curries. Fresh methi leaves are kneaded into dough to make methi parathas, theplas, and naans. The leaves impart an earthy aroma and flavor that make these breads unique. Methi seeds are often added to Indian pickles, where their bitterness cuts through the tangy, spicy, and oily flavors. Perhaps one of the most interesting uses of methi is its addition to dosa batter, a South Indian staple made from fermented rice and lentils.

Methi’s unique ability to enhance flavor can be attributed to its complex chemical composition. The seeds contain compounds such as sotolone, which gives methi its characteristic maple syrup-like aroma, and trigonelline, which contributes to its bitterness. When methi seeds are roasted, these compounds undergo chemical transformations that release nutty, caramel-like notes.

In culinary science, methi acts as a flavor enhancer because it provides balance and depth to dishes. Bitterness, when used in moderation, can counteract excessive sweetness or acidity in a dish, creating a harmonious flavor profile. This is why methi is often paired with rich and spicy foods—its bitterness provides a necessary contrast that enhances the overall eating experience.

The addition of methi seeds to dosa batter is a centuries-old practice rooted in both science and tradition. Methi seeds contain galactomannan, a natural gum that aids in fermentation. When soaked and ground with rice and lentils, it promotes the growth of beneficial bacteria, leading to a light, airy batter that yields crispy dosas. The mucilaginous (slimy) property of methi seeds improves the batter’s viscosity, ensuring even spreading on the griddle and resulting in dosas with the perfect texture. The subtle bitterness of methi offsets the sourness of the fermented batter, creating a nuanced flavor profile that elevates the dosa’s taste.

Methi’s journey doesn’t end in India. It continues to be a cornerstone of Nepali cuisine. In Nepal, methi seeds are known as ‘methi dana,’ and they hold a special place in traditional cooking and rituals. Fresh methi leaves, often referred to as ‘saag,’ are widely consumed in curries and stir-fries.

One of the most iconic uses of methi seeds in Nepal is in the preparation of ‘achaar’ (pickle). Methi is dry-roasted and ground into a powder, which is then mixed with mustard oil, chili, and other spices to create tangy and spicy pickles that are a staple in every Nepali household.

Methi is also an essential ingredient in ‘gundruk ko jhol,’ a traditional soup made from fermented leafy greens. The bitterness of methi seeds complements the sourness of the gundruk, creating a dish that is as nutritious as it is flavorful.

What sets Nepal apart in its use of methi is its emphasis on the ingredient’s medicinal properties. In many rural areas, methi seeds are chewed raw or soaked overnight in water to treat digestive issues, joint pain, and hormonal imbalances. The traditional belief that food is medicine is deeply ingrained in Nepali culture, and methi epitomizes this philosophy.

Furthermore, methi is a key ingredient in ‘sel roti,’ a traditional Nepali rice flour doughnut. A pinch of methi powder is added to the batter to enhance the flavor and balance the sweetness of this festive treat.

Methi’s journey from ancient Mesopotamia to South Asia has been marked by its unparalleled ability to enhance flavor, promote health, and adapt to a variety of culinary traditions. By celebrating this humble yet extraordinary spice, we not only enrich our meals but also honor the culinary wisdom of our ancestors.

The author is a London-based R&D chef

When I first moved to Kathmandu from Pokhara for my studies, everything felt new and overwhelming. Away from the warmth of home and my mother’s cooking, I longed for familiar flavors. Living on a student budget meant I couldn’t indulge in culinary luxuries every day, but there was one breakfast that became my solace: ‘Haluwa-swari’, ‘jeri-swari’, paired with ‘tato tato chiya’ (hot tea) and ‘piro aalu kerau tarkari’. It was a taste of comfort in a city that felt unfamiliar.

What is haluwa?

Haluwa is a sweet semolina pudding that is rich, buttery, and fragrant. Made primarily from semolina (suji), ghee (clarified butter), sugar, and milk or water, it’s flavored with cardamom and garnished with nuts and dried fruits such as almonds, cashews, and raisins. The cooking process involves roasting semolina in ghee until golden brown, then adding sweetened milk or water and stirring until it achieves a thick, smooth consistency.

Haluwa’s luxurious texture and rich flavor make it a dish of celebration, often prepared during festivals, pujas, and special occasions. However, when paired with swari, it transforms into a humble yet indulgent breakfast. The slightly grainy texture of haluwa, combined with the flaky, crisp swari, creates a delightful contrast.

What is swari?

Swari is a flaky, deep-fried flatbread that resembles puri but is slightly thicker and less oily. Made from wheat flour, a touch of ghee, and water, the dough is rolled into small discs and fried until golden and puffy. Swari has a soft interior and a crisp exterior, making it an ideal accompaniment to both sweet and savory dishes.

In the context of haluwa-swari, the swari acts as the perfect vehicle for scooping up the rich, sweet haluwa. Its neutral taste balances the sweetness of haluwa, making every bite a harmonious blend of flavors and textures. Swari’s versatility also makes it an excellent companion for piro aalu kerau tarkari, demonstrating its importance in Nepali breakfasts.

What is jeri?

Jeri, known as jalebi in other South Asian cuisines, is a spiral-shaped, deep-fried sweet soaked in sugar syrup. Made from a fermented batter of all-purpose flour and yogurt, the mixture is piped into hot oil in circular patterns and fried until crispy. Once golden, the jeri is immediately immersed in warm sugar syrup, allowing it to absorb the syrup and become irresistibly sweet and sticky.

Jeri is often served alongside swari, creating the iconic jeri-swari pairing. The crispy, syrup-soaked jeri provides a burst of sweetness that contrasts beautifully with the flaky, neutral swari. This combination is both decadent and comforting, making it a favorite breakfast or snack for those seeking a touch of indulgence.

What is aalu kerau tarkari?

Aalu kerau tarkari is a spicy potato and green pea curry that embodies the essence of Nepali comfort food. Made with boiled potatoes and fresh or dried green peas (kerau), the dish is seasoned with turmeric, cumin, coriander, chili powder, and mustard seeds. A touch of garlic, ginger, and fresh coriander enhances its aroma and flavor.

This dish is beloved for its simplicity and versatility. The potatoes absorb the spices beautifully, while the green peas add a burst of sweetness and texture. When paired with swari, aalu kerau tarkari becomes a hearty and satisfying breakfast. Its spicy kick is perfectly complemented by a cup of hot Nepali tea, making it a favorite among students and workers alike.

The cultural significance

This breakfast combination of haluwa-swari, jeri-swari, and aalu kerau tarkari holds a unique place in the food culture of Kathmandu Valley. Rooted in the Newar community, it represents a blend of traditional flavors and modern-day convenience. While the Newars are renowned for their elaborate feasts and unique culinary practices, this breakfast showcases their ability to create balanced and wholesome meals that are both delicious and practical.

In the bustling streets of Kathmandu, small tea shops and eateries serve this breakfast to locals and visitors alike. It’s common to see people gathered around, sipping hot tea and savoring each bite of haluwa-swari or jeri-swari, often while engaging in animated conversations. For students and young professionals, this breakfast offers a sense of comfort and nostalgia, evoking memories of simpler times.

For many, this breakfast is not just about the food. It’s about the memories it carries. It takes one back to the early mornings in Kathmandu, the warmth of a bustling tea shop, and the camaraderie of friends. It’s a reminder of the small luxuries that brought immense joy during student life—a time when every bite was savored not just for its taste but for the connection it fostered.

As a student from Pokhara living in Kathmandu, the absence of home-cooked meals often made this breakfast a cherished ritual. It was more than just sustenance. It was a moment of solace and indulgence amidst the challenges of academic life. Even today, living far from Nepal, the thought of haluwa-swari, jeri-swari, and aalu kerau tarkari evokes a deep sense of longing and pride in the culinary heritage of Kathmandu Valley.

Why hasn’t this breakfast gone global?

While Nepali momo have gained international fame, this iconic breakfast has yet to make its mark globally. One reason could be the intricacy involved in preparing these dishes, especially the perfect swari and the syrup-soaked jeri. Additionally, the breakfast’s cultural context and deep-rooted connection to Kathmandu’s street food culture make it challenging to replicate the same experience elsewhere.

However, this also adds to its charm. The exclusivity of haluwa-swari, jeri-swari, and aalu kerau tarkari keeps it special, preserving its status as a beloved breakfast of Kathmandu Valley. For those who have moved away from Nepal, the nostalgia associated with this breakfast keeps it alive in their hearts, even if it is not readily available.

Haluwa-swari, jeri-swari, and aalu kerau tarkari are a celebration of Nepali culinary artistry and a testament to the rich food culture of Kathmandu Valley. For those who have experienced it, this breakfast is a cherished memory, a taste of home, and a symbol of simpler, happier times. While it may not yet have traveled globally like momo, its significance remains unparalleled for those who hold it close to their hearts.

The author is a London-based R&D chef

My journey with ‘Akbare chili’ began unexpectedly. I left Nepal at a tender age and knew little about our heritage cuisines, forgotten foods, indigenous crops, and local produce. While working at Do & Co International, a day changed my perception of cooking forever. Among my team, there was Krishna, a Nepali-speaking bhai from Darjeeling. I was his supervisor and the head of Asian cooking at the time.

During a mentoring session, I emphasized keeping cooking simple, embracing the concept of ‘less is more,’ and advocating for heritage, authenticity, and local, simple cooking. “Cooking should not be rocket science,” I always said. After the session, Krishna approached me with something special—Dalle Akbare pickle. It was naturally fermented and made with just two ingredients: salt and Akbare Chili.

That pickle was a revelation. It was tasty, aromatic, and authentic, embodying generational cooking techniques and traditions. That simple jar of pickle taught me so much about the essence of cooking: less is more, local is better, and authenticity is king. This experience changed my entire perspective on cooking and deepened my appreciation for heritage recipes and ingredients like Akbare chili.

Akbare khursani, also known as dalle khursani, red cherry pepper chili, or simply dalle, holds a legendary status in the world of chilies. Revered for its addictive spiciness and unique aroma, this chili pepper is a cornerstone of Nepali cuisine and culture. Many Nepalis think its origins and identity are deeply tied to Nepal’s eastern mid-hill regions, but it shares its fame with regions in Bhutan, Northeast India, and Nepal. Even the name of this chili comes from the Bhutanese language, ‘Akubari,’ which translates to ‘Uncle Blazing’ and has nothing to do with King Akbar of India.

Akbare khursani is a polyploidal variety of pepper, the only known one of its kind. It belongs to the family Solanaceae and genus Capsicum. The plant thrives in the cool, subtropical climate of Nepal’s eastern hills, growing to heights of 100-130 cm in open fields and up to 150-180 cm in greenhouse conditions. It’s a hardy plant with a long growing season, making it well-suited for cultivation in Ilam and surrounding districts.

Akbare chili is not only a flavor powerhouse but also a nutritional treasure. It’s exceptionally rich in Vitamin C, with 100 grams containing 240 mg—five times more than an orange. It also boasts high levels of Vitamin A (11,000 IU) and Vitamin E (0.7 mg), along with potassium, making it a healthful addition to any diet. The chili’s pungency ranges from 100,000 to 350,000 Scoville Heat Units (SHU), placing it in the same heat category as the Habanero pepper. This fiery heat, combined with its rich, fruity aroma, makes it a favorite for culinary uses and pickling.

Akbare Khursani is a versatile ingredient in Nepali cuisine. Its spiciness and flavor elevate traditional dishes, and it’s consumed in various forms. Whole chilis are often served as a relish alongside dal bhat (rice and lentils). Chopped, it’s used as a seasoning in vegetable and meat curries. The paste is blended into chutneys and sauces, particularly for momos (dumplings). It can be transformed into dalle achaar, a tangy and spicy pickle cherished across Nepal as well as combined with yak buttermilk to create a unique fermented delicacy.

Despite being associated with the eastern hill districts, including Bhojpur, Ilam, Sankhuwasabha, Taplejung, and Terhathum, the growing demand from noodle companies is encouraging farmers to cultivate more Akbare chili. For example, farmers of Ribdikot Rural Municipality in Palpa sold Akbare chilies worth more than Rs. 60 million in 2024—Rs. 20 million more than in 2023, when chilies worth Rs. 40 million were sold. A single farmer can earn up to one million rupees just by selling Akbare.

With the increasing demand for hot and spicy noodles, the cultivation of Akbare chilli has also expanded in Nepal.

A technical paper by Damodar Poudyal and his team, Akabare Chili Amplifies the Household Income of Farmers in the Mid-hills of Nepal, shows that chili consumption in Nepal has increased over the years, with total per capita capsicum consumption reaching 9.5 kg in 2021. Similarly, the per capita consumption of Akbare chili in 2021 was 0.47 kg, 34 percent higher than in 2020 (Poudyal et al., 2023). The number of districts cultivating Akbare chili in the mid-hills of Nepal has also increased. In 2021, Akbare chili was grown in 54 districts—nearly 13 percent more than in 2018.

Given its historical presence and cultural value in Nepali kitchens, the fresh and processed market for Akbare chili has expanded over the years. There is strong demand for Akbare chili within Nepal, along with ample opportunities to grow the business. An improved marketing system with a buyback guarantee would not only strengthen the chili economy but also create employment opportunities and attract young people to farming. 

The author is a London-based R&D chef

Rayo ko saag, or mustard greens, is more than just a leafy vegetable in Nepal. It’s a cultural icon, a nutritional powerhouse, and a symbol of Nepali identity. From traditional dishes like gundruk to modern green smoothies, this humble green continues to evolve while maintaining its timeless significance. Its ability to nourish both body and soul ensures that rayo ko saag will remain an essential part of Nepali cuisine for generations to come.

A staple of Nepali cuisine

Nepali cuisine is deeply connected to the land, relying on ingredients that have sustained its people for centuries. Among these, rayo ko saag (Brassica juncea) holds a special place in the hearts and kitchens of Nepali people. This vibrant, nutrient-rich vegetable is an integral part of the country’s culinary heritage, enjoyed across all communities and regions.

Nutritional and health benefits

Rayo ko saag is not only delicious but also packed with essential nutrients, making it a staple in the Nepali diet. 

It’s high in Vitamin A, C, and K, which support vision, immunity, and bone health. It also contains folate, calcium, potassium, and magnesium for overall well-being. It contains beta-carotene, lutein, and zeaxanthin, which combat oxidative stress and reduce the risk of chronic diseases.

Its high fiber content aids digestion and helps detoxify the body. The potassium in rayo ko saag helps regulate blood pressure, while its omega-3 fatty acids promote cardiovascular health. It contains glucosinolates, known for their anti-inflammatory and cancer-preventive properties.

Vitamin K and calcium contribute to strong bones, reducing the risk of osteoporosis. Its high vitamin C content strengthens the immune system. Antioxidants in the greens help maintain healthy skin and slow the aging process.

Culinary uses

Rayo ko saag is a key component of Nepali meals, often served alongside the national dish, daal bhat tarkari (lentils, rice, and vegetables). Its versatility allows it to be used in various traditional and modern dishes.

Stir-fried with garlic, ginger, and chilies, this simple dish is a staple in Nepali households. Fermented and dried mustard greens are turned into gundruk, a traditional preserved food that adds a tangy flavor to soups and curries. 

It’s combined with potatoes, lentils, or other vegetables for hearty side dishes. Young mustard greens are pickled with spices and oil for a flavorful condiment. Saag paneer is a fusion dish where mustard greens are cooked with cottage cheese and spices, perfect for special occasions.

Rayo ko saag is now blended into green smoothies for a nutrient boost. Deep-fried mustard greens in chickpea batter make a crispy and flavorful snack. The greens are also blended into creamy soups or added to broths for extra nutrition. Mustard greens are being incorporated into global cuisines, from pasta to stir-fries.

Cultivation and sustainability

Rayo ko saag is a hardy, cool-season crop that thrives in various climates and soil types, making it popular for home gardens and commercial farming. It prefers well-drained, fertile soil with a pH of 6.0 to 7.5 and thrives in cool temperatures and tolerates frost, making it ideal for Nepal’s mountainous regions.

It’s best grown in autumn and winter but can be cultivated year-round in temperate climates. It requires regular watering, weeding, and protection from pests like aphids and caterpillars.

While rayo ko saag is traditionally a seasonal vegetable, advancements in agriculture have enabled year-round cultivation in greenhouses and controlled environments. However, its flavor is most robust when grown in cooler temperatures, making winter the ideal season for enjoying this green.

Comparison with other greens

Though rayo ko saag is a beloved staple, Nepali cuisine also includes other nutritious greens. Chamsur ko saag (garden cress) is rich in iron and vitamin C. It has a peppery flavor but it’s less common outside Nepal. Watercress shares similar health benefits but lacks the distinct earthy taste of mustard greens. Spinach and kale are popular globally, but their taste and texture differ from rayo ko saag, offering variety but less authenticity in traditional Nepali dishes.

The essence of rayo ko saag

For me, rayo ko saag is a symbol of home and heritage. Its presence in daily meals connects families to their roots and traditions. For those living abroad, the aroma of freshly cooked rayo ko saag evokes memories of childhood and family gatherings.

Though primarily associated with Nepal, rayo ko saag is gaining global recognition for its health benefits and versatility. Ethnic grocery stores in countries with large Nepali communities often stock mustard greens, allowing the diaspora to stay connected to their culinary heritage.

Rayo ko saag is a timeless treasure in Nepali cuisine. Its nutritional value, cultural significance, and culinary versatility ensure its place in Nepali households for generations to come. Whether served traditionally or innovatively, this beloved green continues to be a symbol of health, heritage, and home.

The author is a London-based R&D chef

The new generation might not be familiar with the term ‘kodoski,’ but it was quite popular in our time. The term is a simple combination of two words: ‘kodo’ (millet) and ‘raksi’ (liquor). I was familiar with millet liquor but had never heard of ‘tongba’. 

When I arrived at the Gurkha Welfare Center in Sorhakhutte, Kathmandu, for higher studies, I was introduced to tongba—a traditional, indigenous, hot, millet-based alcoholic beer from Eastern Nepal. During the cold winter evenings in Kathmandu, tongba, paired with a plate of momo and crispy sukuti (dried meat), made for excellent company.

Millet, particularly kodo (Paspalum scrobiculatum), has historically been considered the food of the poor. There was a time when people would cook millet dishes secretly. If someone was preparing dhido (a traditional millet dish) and an important guest visited, the family would hide the dhido and cook rice instead to serve the guest. Society unnecessarily glorified rice over millet.

Times have changed. Urban restaurants now include millet-based dishes in their menus, which has helped elevate the prestige of kodo. Media and society have also highlighted the health benefits of millet. Additionally, the demand for kodo-based raksi and tongba has surged. While tongba was traditionally a winter drink, it’s now available year-round.

The Gandaki Rural Municipality in Gorkha has begun producing and distributing local liquor under the brand name ‘Gandaki kodo ko raksi’ (Gandaki millet liquor), with other municipalities following suit. However, Nepalis are consuming millet products, including kodoski, unsustainably and often associating them unnecessarily with national pride. It’s essential for all Nepali to understand that Kodo isn’t exclusive to Nepal. It’s also widely popular in India. In Bengali and Odia languages, this millet is called kodo, while in Hindi, Marathi, Punjabi, and Gujarati, it is known as kodra—a name derived from the Sanskrit word kotrawa.

Kodo or millet originated in Africa and was domesticated in the Indian subcontinent around 3,000 years ago. Known for its drought-resistant properties, it thrives in dry regions and is one of the world’s oldest grains. Both African and Asian countries cultivate this millet in dry and semi-arid climates, where it serves as a staple food crop. In India, kodo is primarily grown in the Deccan region, the southern peninsula, and areas south of the Narmada River, with cultivation extending to the foothills of the Himalayas, including Nepal.

Millet is an excellent grain to consume due to its nourishing nutritional profile, making it a suitable replacement for rice or wheat. It contains significantly more protein, fiber, and minerals than rice, one of the major staple grains. Millet is particularly high in protein, with an eight percent composition. It also contains glutelin protein. Compared to wheat (0.2 percent fiber) and rice (0.2 percent fiber), kodo stands out as a top-quality source of dietary fiber, boasting nine percent fiber content.

In Nepal, a remarkable diversity of about 22 millet species exists, serving multiple purposes ranging from food and feed to fodder. These include both cultivated and wild varieties.

According to official data, Nepal imported 15.2m kilograms of millet worth Rs 754.43m in the fiscal year 2023/24. In 2022/23, imports were higher, totaling 18.4m kilograms valued at Rs 732m. Notably, 2023 was declared the International Year of Millet (IYM) by the United Nations General Assembly during its seventy-fifth session.

Looking back, in 2008/09, Nepal imported 12.37m kilograms of millet valued at Rs 65.32m. Despite being the world’s 13th largest producer of millet, Nepal’s production has been insufficient to meet the growing demand. The majority of Nepal’s millet imports come from India.

A 2020 study by the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) reported that Nepal produced 320,953 tons of millet that year, while India produced a staggering 12.49m tons. In the previous fiscal year, Nepal imported 15.29m kilograms of millet from India.

If Nepal wants to consume more millet, the country needs to increase domestic production. Otherwise, millet will become yet another item that makes Nepal dependent on imports.

To adopt a sustainable approach to millet production, Arjun Prasad Khanal of the Ministry of Agriculture and Livestock Development, Nepal, wrote in the International Journal of Environmental and Agriculture Research in 2023, “Nepal needs to bring the millet crop from its existing state of ‘marginal, underutilized, and poor man’s crop’ into the ‘commercial, trade potential, and high-status crop’ of Nepal.”

He further emphasized, “The inner Tarai and Hilly regions of Nepal have tremendous potential for producing quality millet. It’s like a situation where the ‘iron is already hot,’ and it’s up to Nepal to either shape it properly or watch it cool down, missing a valuable opportunity.”

In a recent initiative, Kushma Municipality in Parbat district has started cultivating millet on 200 Ropanis (101,744 square meters) of fields that had been lying fallow for years. This year, the municipality produced 16 Muris of millet, generating revenue of Rs 80,000 by utilizing the previously unused land. The initiative, part of the Prime Minister’s Employment Program, aims to connect unemployed youth with agricultural employment and maximize the potential of fallow land. The municipality chose this area because it was historically known for millet farming and remains highly fertile, yielding an abundant harvest.

My advice to every municipality is to follow Kushma Municipality’s example and prioritize millet production. Otherwise, we risk ending up with ‘Nepali kodoski’ made from imported Indian millet.

The author is a London-based R&D chef

Growing up in Nepal, rainy days or chilly winter evenings often brought a sense of togetherness in our home. On those special days, when my mother had some free time and all the family members were at home, she would prepare ‘phuraula’—a traditional Nepali fritter made from coarsely ground black lentils. 

We would sit around, eating phuraula straight from the kitchen, paired with steaming cups of milk tea infused with ginger and cardamom. The warm, crispy fritters and the spicy, aromatic tea were the perfect companions for those cozy moments, filling both our stomachs and our hearts.

The nostalgia of those times often takes me back to my plate, piled high with phuraula, and the joy of eating together as a family. While this recipe isn’t exactly the same as my mother’s, it’s my humble attempt to recreate the flavors and memories of those days.

Phuraula is not just a snack. It carries deep cultural and spiritual significance, particularly among the Brahmin community in Nepal. It’s often prepared during rituals and celebrations, especially on ‘shraddha’—a day of honoring and praying for one’s ancestors. On such occasions, the dish is made without garlic or onion to keep it pure and in line with traditional dietary restrictions. 

However, on regular days, my mother would add garlic and onion to enhance the flavor. Ginger was her favorite spice, and our family’s version of phuraula always had a generous amount of it, making it the perfect comfort food on cold days.

But beyond its nostalgic and cultural importance, phuraula is also a dish with significant nutritional value. Lentils, particularly black lentils (kalo dal or kalo urad dal), are a powerhouse of nutrients. They are high in protein, rich in dietary fiber, and naturally gluten-free, making them a fantastic ingredient for healthy eating. Phuraula combines the goodness of these lentils with spices like ginger, which is known for its anti-inflammatory properties, and cumin, which aids digestion. This not only makes phuraula a delicious snack but also a healthful one.

Phuraula recipe 

Ingredients

• 200 g black lentils (kalo dal) or black gram (kalo urad dal)
• 1 tbsp ginger, finely grated (optional but recommended for a warming flavor)
• 2 green chilies, finely chopped
• 1/2 tsp cumin seeds
• 1/4 tsp turmeric powder (optional)
• 10 g coriander leaves, finely chopped
• 5 g salt (or to taste)
• Mustard oil or regular oil for frying

Optional (for regular family days)

• 1 small onion, finely chopped
• 2-3 garlic cloves, minced

Instructions

• Wash the black lentils thoroughly and soak them in water for six to eight hours or overnight. Drain the lentils and grind them coarsely using a mortar and pestle or a food processor. Avoid adding water to retain the texture.
• Transfer the ground lentils to a bowl. Mix in ginger, green chilies, cumin seeds, turmeric powder (if using), coriander leaves, and salt. For family versions, add the chopped onion and garlic.
• Heat mustard oil in a deep frying pan over medium heat.
• Take small portions of the mixture, shape them into rough balls or drop spoonfuls into the hot oil.
• Fry until the fritters turn golden brown and crispy, turning occasionally for even cooking.
• Remove the phuraula with a slotted spoon, drain on paper towels, and serve hot.

Serving suggestions

Enjoy phuraula with a hot cup of ginger and cardamom milk tea (tato tato chiya) or pair it with homemade achar or gundruk ko jhol for a more traditional touch.

Health benefits of black lentils

Black lentils (kalo dal or urad dal) are a nutrient-dense food with a range of health benefits. Black lentils are an excellent plant-based protein source, making them ideal for vegetarians and vegans.The fiber content aids digestion, promotes gut health, and helps regulate blood sugar levels. Naturally gluten-free, phuraula is a safe snack option for those with gluten intolerance or celiac disease.

Black lentils contain iron, potassium, and magnesium, which support overall health, including better oxygen flow, heart health, and strong bones. The antioxidants in lentils, combined with the anti-inflammatory properties of ginger, make this dish especially beneficial for cold weather and rainy days.

Phuraula’s simplicity and versatility make it a great candidate for modern snacks or even as an all-day dining option. Imagine having bite-sized phuraula poppers served as a side dish in cafes or as a complement to chai in tea stalls. Its portability and gluten-free nature make it an ideal snack to enjoy on the go, while the crispy texture and hearty flavor pair beautifully with various chutneys or dips.

Why not reintroduce phuraula in a contemporary way? Here are some ideas:

Phuraula sliders: Use phuraula patties in place of burger patties for a Nepali-inspired slider.

Tea-time platter: Serve phuraula as part of a platter with assorted chutneys like timur ko achar or tomato chutney.

Moveable snack packs: Package bite-sized phuraula pieces with a small container of dipping sauce for a convenient, on-the-go snack.

Phuraula wraps: Wrap crispy phuraula fritters in roti with fresh salad and a tangy yogurt sauce for a fusion meal.

All-day snack: Position phuraula as a healthier alternative to processed snacks, appealing to both traditional and modern palates.

Phuraula is a piece of Nepal’s culinary history. It reminds us of the beauty of simple, hearty meals made with love and shared with family. In a world where fast food and modern dishes dominate, let’s not forget these traditional gems that carry stories, culture, and nostalgia.

The author is London-based R&D chef

A few years ago, I was in New York for an airline catering project. My schedule was packed, and my routine revolved around the comfort of a five-star hotel and occasional dinners in Jackson Heights.

One evening, a humble and soft-spoken kitchen assistant in my team, a Bhutanese Nepali-speaking young man who had never set foot in Nepal, invited me to his house for dinner. I hadn’t realized that day was Maghe Sankranti – the first day of the Nepali month of Magh, a culturally significant day in many South Asian cultures.

Initially, I hesitated. I was accustomed to fine dining, and this was a long drive out of the city. But something about his warmth and enthusiasm made me say yes.

He picked me up later that evening, and we drove over an hour to his place. As we arrived, I noticed the house was buzzing with activity. Four families had gathered, and there was an air of celebration. The dining table was adorned with dishes I had seen growing up but hadn’t truly appreciated: steamed tubers, sesame laddus, ghee (clarified butter), jaggery, and bowls of chamre rice lined the table alongside a dish I had never encountered before – tite Chicken, a slightly bitter preparation unique to their tradition.

It wasn’t until I saw the offerings carefully arranged in a corner that it hit me – it was Maghe Sankranti. I felt shame for not remembering the day and for how far I had moved from my roots. Yet, as I stood there, surrounded by strangers who welcomed me like family, I realized this moment wasn’t about guilt but about rediscovery. Here were Nepali-speaking families, thousands of miles away from Nepal, preserving and celebrating our culture with such reverence.

We shared stories, ate together, and laughed late into the night. That evening, they earned my respect for their dedication to keeping our traditions alive. Their version of chamre (a ceremonial rice dish) was exquisite, and the tite Chicken – a dish I had never tried before – was unforgettable. From that day on, I vowed never to overlook Maghe Sankranti again.

Maghe Sankranti marks the sun’s transition into Capricorn (Makara), symbolizing the end of the darkest, coldest days and the start of longer, warmer ones. This shift, both astronomical and symbolic, is celebrated with rituals, food, and gatherings across Nepal and in Nepali-speaking communities worldwide.

On Maghe Sankranti, families across Nepal enjoy steamed tubers like yam (rato tarul), sweet potatoes (sakar kanda), and potatoes. These humble roots are not only nutritious but also carry cultural significance. In rural areas, tubers were often the only available food during harsh winters. Rich in carbohydrates, fiber, and potassium, they provide the energy and warmth needed to combat the cold.

Tilauri, or sesame seed laddus, paired with ghue (clarified butter) and chaku (jaggery), is a quintessential Maghe Sankranti offering. Sesame seeds are revered in Hindu culture, symbolizing purity, prosperity, and health. In the cold months, their high fat and nutrient content nourish the body, while jaggery provides essential minerals and a natural energy boost. Ghee, with its warming and lubricating properties, complements the combination perfectly.

Together, these foods embody the Nepali philosophy of balancing taste, health, and spiritual significance.

Maghe Sankranti is celebrated differently across Nepal and its neighboring regions. Some communities celebrate it with Khitro or Khichadi, which is made with black gram (Vigna mungo) and rice and tilkut (sesame candy).

In some communities, unique dishes like tite chicken – a bittersweet curry along with burnt chicken feathers ash – are prepared. This dish, though uncommon, reflects the fusion of local ingredients with traditional cooking methods.

Maghe Sankranti foods are not just delicious, they are also aligned with seasonal needs. Winter is a time when the body requires extra calories and nutrients to stay warm and healthy. The festival’s emphasis on tubers, sesame seeds, jaggery, and ghee reflects an ancient understanding of nutrition.

Ayurveda, the traditional system of medicine, highlights these foods as winter staples for balancing vata (the air element) and keeping the body grounded and nourished.

The experience I had in New York that year taught me a profound lesson: traditions aren't confined to geography. They live on in the hearts and kitchens of those who cherish them. For me, Maghe Sankranti is now a day to pause, reflect, and celebrate – not just the food but also the stories, memories, and people that make it meaningful.

So, this Maghe Sankranti, let us steam our tubers, roll our tilauris, and share a meal with family and friends near or far. Because at the heart of it, this festival is about warmth: the warmth of food, community, tradition, and celebrating together.

The author is a UK-based R&D chef

When I first tasted fresh sumac at the spice market in Istanbul, the tangy flavor instantly transported me back to my childhood in Nepal. It reminded me of ‘bhakamilo’ (Rhus javanica Miller), a local Nepali berry we used to snack on during childhood after swimming in the Kahu Khola river. To my surprise, bhakamilo and sumac share a familial connection, both belonging to the Rhus genus in the Anacardiaceae family. While sumac (Rhus coriaria) is a staple in Middle Eastern cuisine, bhakamilo remains an underappreciated gem in Nepal. 

Sumac and bhakamilo are shrubs known for their vibrant berries and aromatic foliage. While sumac grows across the Mediterranean, bhakamilo thrives in the foothills of the Himalayas, between 800 and 1200 meters. Both are members of the Anacardiaceae family, which also includes mangoes, pistachios, and cashews. Bhakamilo is commonly found on hill slopes and forested areas of Nepal, flourishing in the temperate climate. Despite its abundance, its culinary potential remains largely untapped.

Bhakamilo holds a nostalgic place in traditional Nepali life. For many of us, its tangy taste evokes memories of carefree childhood days spent exploring forests and indulging in wild edibles. The reddish berries, often consumed fresh, offered a burst of tartness that became synonymous with rural living. However, unlike sumac, which has found its way into spice blends like za’atar and is widely used in Middle Eastern cuisine, Bhakamilo has not been integrated into Nepali culinary practices beyond its role as a wild berry snack.

In Middle Eastern cuisine, sumac is celebrated for its lemony flavor, often used to brighten salads, kebabs, and rice dishes. Bhakamilo could serve a similar purpose in Nepali cuisine. Its tanginess could enhance dishes like gundruk ko achar (fermented leafy green pickle) or kwati (mixed bean soup), adding a refreshing acidity that complements earthy flavors.

Bhakamilo’s versatility extends beyond traditional recipes. It could be used in marinades, dry rubs, or dressings for meats such as lamb or duck, much like it enhances fatty meats in Levantine dishes. Additionally, it could be sprinkled over salads, stirred into yogurt, or even incorporated into rice dishes. Its potential to bridge traditional and modern culinary styles makes it an exciting ingredient for chefs and home cooks alike.

Bhakamilo is rich in antioxidants, particularly tannins and anthocyanins, which contribute to its vibrant color and astringent taste. Traditional medicine in Nepal has long used bhakamilo for digestive ailments, sore throats, and inflammation. Its natural acidity stimulates digestion, making it a valuable addition to pickles and fermented foods. As scientific studies increasingly highlight the health benefits of sumac, including its anti-inflammatory and antimicrobial properties, bhakamilo could gain recognition as a wellness-enhancing ingredient.

As Nepali cuisine evolves, the time is right to reintroduce bhakamilo. Its tangy flavor and cultural significance make it a promising addition to contemporary dishes. Similar to za’atar, a spice mix using ground bhakamilo, herbs, roasted sesame seeds, and salt could create a distinctly Nepali seasoning. This blend could enhance flatbreads, salads, or marinades.

Nepal’s tradition of pickling could benefit from bhakamilo’s acidity. Incorporating it into chutneys and pickles would add a unique tang. Ground bhakamilo could be used as a garnish for dishes like sekuwa (grilled meat), choila (spiced meat salad), or bhuteko bhat (fried rice), providing both flavor and visual appeal.

Its sourness pairs well with creamy textures, making it an ideal addition to yogurt-based dips and sauces. Bhakamilo’s tang could elevate desserts such as rice puddings or fruit salads, offering a creative fusion of flavors.

Reintroducing bhakamilo into Nepali cuisine presents both challenges and opportunities. Its limited culinary awareness requires education for chefs, home cooks, and food enthusiasts. Additionally, harvesting and processing bhakamilo on a commercial scale might be challenging due to its specific habitat. However, the global interest in foraged and indigenous ingredients presents an opportunity for Nepal to position bhakamilo as a niche product with cultural and commercial value.

Local farmers, cooperatives, and entrepreneurs could play a pivotal role in bringing bhakamilo to market. Its potential as a culinary ingredient, combined with its health benefits, makes it an attractive proposition for both domestic and international markets.

Bhakamilo is a symbol of Nepal’s rich biodiversity and culinary heritage. Rediscovering its potential could reconnect the younger generation to their cultural roots through food. As Nepal’s cuisine continues to expand its horizons, embracing bhakamilo could serve as a bridge between tradition and innovation.

By exploring its diverse applications, Nepal can preserve the flavor of bhakamilo for future generations while introducing it to a global audience. This humble berry has the potential to become a staple spice, enriching dishes with its unique taste and connecting people to the vibrant landscapes where it grows.

The author is a UK-based R&D chef

‘Singhara’, also known as water chestnut or Pani Singhara in Nepal, is an aquatic vegetable traditionally cultivated in the Terai region. Over the years, this unique crop, once an important part of Nepal’s agricultural heritage, has faded into obscurity. Despite its rich nutritional profile and cultural significance, singhara farming has declined. However, with global interest in nutritious and exotic vegetables growing, singhara presents an opportunity for Nepal to revive a forgotten treasure with both economic and cultural value.

Singhara holds a special place in the hearts of many Nepalis, especially those from the Terai. It was once a staple during festive seasons, freshly harvested from local ponds and marshes. Its crisp, white flesh was a nostalgic treat after the monsoon season. Today, however, fewer farmers are growing singhara, despite its long-standing tradition and economic potential.

In Nepal, singhara is more than just a crop. It’s a symbol of health and religious practice. During certain Hindu festivals, singhara is consumed in various forms, such as fresh, boiled, or ground into flour, especially during fasting periods. Singhara flour, gluten-free and highly nutritious, has long been a fasting food staple. This versatility and nutritional value have made singhara a cherished crop in Nepal.

Water chestnuts (scientific name Eleocharis dulcis) are not nuts, as often assumed, but aquatic tubers. They grow submerged in ponds, marshes, and paddy fields, thriving in the Terai’s waterlogged fields during the monsoon season. The crop is harvested when the outer bulb turns brown, signaling that it’s ready for consumption. Singhara farming, while rewarding, is labor-intensive and requires specific marshy conditions, which are abundant in the Terai. These fields also contribute to local wetland biodiversity, supporting diverse ecosystems.

Nutritionally, singhara is packed with dietary fiber, potassium, manganese, and vitamin B6. These nutrients support heart health, digestion, and mood regulation. Its high water content and low calorie count make it ideal for weight management, while its antioxidant profile, particularly due to ferulic acid, helps protect against cell damage. Singhara retains its crunch even after cooking, making it popular worldwide for its unique texture and versatility.

In traditional medicine, singhara is valued for its health benefits, including relief from asthma, skin conditions, and reproductive health support. It’s also believed to help regulate blood pressure and cool the body. These medicinal properties, combined with its refreshing taste, make singhara an ideal addition to health-conscious diets.

Globally, water chestnuts are a common ingredient in Asian cuisines, particularly in Chinese, Thai, and Indian dishes. Their crunchy texture and refreshing taste make them a popular choice for stir-fries, soups, and salads. Singhara has also found a place in Western holiday cuisine, with demand peaking around Christmas, where it’s often used in stuffing for festive dishes. This growing global demand presents a significant opportunity for Nepal to export singhara.

Nepal’s singhara, marketed as a premium, exotic product with cultural significance, could appeal to buyers in the U.S., U.K., and Europe. Nepali farmers could consider exporting singhara in various forms, including fresh, canned, and as singhara flour. Singhara flour holds particular promise as a gluten-free, high-fiber alternative to wheat flour, which is increasingly in demand in international markets. Additionally, singhara is a common ingredient in fasting foods, which creates seasonal demand during religious periods.

Despite its potential, singhara farming faces significant challenges. The traditional methods of cultivation are labor-intensive, and many farmers lack awareness of singhara’s economic value. The absence of a structured supply chain and processing facilities limits the crop’s scalability. To revitalize singhara farming, farmers need support to modernize cultivation techniques and access markets.

Investment in infrastructure, such as processing facilities for cleaning, peeling, and packaging, is crucial to making singhara a viable export. With government support, singhara farming could provide economic benefits to the Terai region, giving farmers a new source of income while preserving an important part of Nepal’s agricultural heritage.

Efforts to revive singhara farming could include educating farmers on modern cultivation methods and providing training on efficient harvesting techniques. Building processing and packaging facilities would allow farmers to export fresh, canned, or powdered singhara products. By partnering with international buyers, singhara could be positioned as a unique, premium product that is both nutritious and deeply rooted in Nepali culture.

A strategic marketing campaign could also highlight singhara’s health benefits and cultural significance. By branding Nepali singhara as a high-quality, traditional product, Nepal could attract global consumers interested in health-conscious foods. Singhara could also appeal to a new generation of Nepali consumers, eager to reconnect with traditional foods. Its versatility in contemporary Nepali cuisine could inspire the creation of new singhara-based products, such as snacks and health supplements.

Internationally, singhara’s health benefits and culinary appeal could help it gain a foothold in health-conscious and gourmet markets. Its ability to maintain its crunchy texture even after cooking makes it particularly attractive to consumers in countries where water chestnuts are less common. As a gluten-free flour, singhara flour could be marketed to health food stores, catering to those with dietary restrictions.

Singhara could also capitalize on seasonal demand, especially around Christmas, by positioning it as a premium holiday ingredient. This would allow Nepali farmers to meet global demand during the festive season, offering fresh, high-quality water chestnuts.

Revitalizing singhara farming offers Nepal a chance to preserve its agricultural heritage, create economic opportunities for local farmers, and tap into global markets. By investing in singhara, Nepal can return to its agricultural roots while opening new doors for international recognition and sustainable income.

With strategic support, singhara can go from a forgotten crop to a valuable export, connecting Nepal’s past with its future. For Nepalis farmers, singhara offers renewed livelihoods and a chance to share a unique piece of Nepal with the world. Rediscovering singhara means reclaiming an important chapter in Nepal’s agricultural history and unlocking its potential for both local communities and global markets.

The author is a UK-based R&D chef