Beyond the bhut jolokia

When Tanisha Phanbuh was growing up in Shillong, one of her favourite after-school snacks was tungrymbai on toast. Years later, the memory of that mushy fermented soybean, often dismissed for its strong aroma, was still so fresh in her memory when she recreated it for a pop-up in Delhi, where she’s now based.

This was back in 2017, at the now-shuttered Ek Bar, when Indian fine dining had little or nothing to do with Khasi food—or any of the Northeast Indian cuisines, really. So Phanbuh’s culinary takeover came as a surprise to the capital’s diners, introducing them to flavours they had so far overlooked. But today, things are a little different.

Last month, at Delhi's popular restaurant Fig & Maple, the self-taught chef reimagined Meghalaya’s classic pork brain salad, locally known as doh khlieh, in the form of crostinis. Her aim was simple: to spotlight the flavours and ingredients integral to her home state with a creative twist. Through her platform, Tribal Gourmet, she spotlights the food of her state via pop-ups, collaborations, and other events in the capital. And most of her interpretations are offshoots of beloved dishes from her childhood. These, she adds, “inspire me to create modern spins, and at the same time help familiarise diners with my beloved cuisine”.

Tanisha Phanbuh's dishes are often inspired by memories of her favourite childhood foods

Revamping tradition is not easy, and it’s even harder when it comes to the centuries-old cuisines of Northeast India. On the rare occasions that food from the region does make it to flashy modern Indian dining experiences, it is usually limited to blink-and-you-miss-it bhut jolokia experiments. But now, chefs and tastemakers from the region are challenging stereotypes and showcasing their heritage with a good dose of imagination. And in this mission, the space is as important as the food.

Phanbuh, for example, makes it a point to create a sense of place at her events with craft installations and tablescapes that include elements such as miniature knups—the traditional bamboo umbrellas or sunshades worn by the farming communities back home. For one of her pop-ups, she placed a mannequin-like installation in traditional Khasi attire near the entrance of the venue. Folk stories about spirits and nymphs were printed out for diners, providing ample fodder for conversations between courses.

In May, she hosted a ‘modern Meghalayan’ pop-up at Indica, an experimental space in Gurugram that hosts pop-ups, culinary workshops, and private dining events. About 30-odd diners came together for a seven-course tasting menu, surrounded by wooden shelves stacked with spice and herb jars, books, and food-themed artworks. The highlights were dawki (cured fish served on a bed of tree tomato sauce), meant to evoke the small town in the Jaintia Hills known for its crystal-clear Dawki river; a risotto-like ja bowl inspired by the modest rice and tea stalls selling jadoh (rice cooked in pork blood); and smoked pork and bamboo shoot dumplings encased in shiso (perilla) leaves. She also slipped in a palate cleanser of tart soh shang berries for a Michelin-esque feel.

Over in Assam, culinary consultant Farha Naaz, a huge fan of Studio Ghibli films, aspires to bring everyday food culture to the fore the way they do in Miyazaki’s animated movies. Routine ingredients such as the GI-tagged kaji nemu (lime), maan dhoniya (sawtooth coriander), bogori (jujube), guti aloo (baby potato), jolphai (Indian olive), and bhut jolokia peppers are used to make punchy dips, chilli oils, and sauces at her outdoor dining experiences. She even reinterprets these quotidian items for a tapas table with wine pairings and music by the Brahmaputra under her pop-up venture, Mamazaki. As the sun goes down by the mighty river, cane lamps are lit, and people tuck into small plates of jackfruit cutlets with maan dhoniya dip, gambas al ajillo starring freshwater shrimps, and guti aloo patatas bravas. In winters, she takes it up a notch by setting up picnic tables and grazing boards on the shores of the river.

Earlier this year, in March, Naaz took her pop-up to Delhi’s cheery café and wine bar April by Kay, where Northeasterners as well as the capital’s locals got a taste of her modern interpretations of Assamese food. The pièce de résistance was her reimagined Bihu jolpan, a riff on the frugal breakfast ritual synonymous with the harvest festival, Bihu. It traditionally features seera (flattened rice), hurum or akhoi (puffed rice), curd, jaggery, and a selection of pitha or steamed rice cakes, but she plated up her version with baked yoghurt, caramelised puffed rice, jaggery syrup, and toasted coconut flakes. “The idea is to promote traditional crops as they not only ensure food security, but also allow people to appreciate the abundance of my region,” she says.

Through Mamazaki, Naaz puts together a tapas-style table of Assamese staples paired with wine, and set by the Brahmaputra

Appreciation is hard to come, given the hackneyed notions many have about the Northeast and its food. In Nagaland, the culinary cultures of 17 indigenous tribes continue to battle stereotypes owing to their distinct smell and flavour. The ingredient responsible, axone—a speciality item of fermented soybean—even became the source of conflict in the 2019 eponymous Netflix film directed by Nicholas Kharkongor.

But chefs and tastemakers from the region are up for the challenge, keen to own their culinary heritage on the fine dining stage. In Dimapur, Aketoli Zhimomi, founder of a restaurant called Ethnic Table and chef-partner at Heirloom Naga Centre, champions axone, smoked pork, and fermented bamboo shoots by turning them into spice rubs, vinaigrettes, and sauces. Little-known gems such as napa (Naga basil), kholar beans (kidney beans), and Job’s tears millets make their way into pesto, hummus, and salads. Her ingenious axone salt, which resembles an idli gunpowder, is an umami powerhouse. “In my experience, people who are unfamiliar with our foods are usually hesitant to taste them. But when I offer them roasted smoked pork with axone in the form of, say, a seasoning salt, the response is way more positive,” she says. Making such ingredients accessible also means creating a demand for them, which, she believes, is the way to provide economic opportunities among the communities.

And it’s not just food that is driving this trend. Bar programmes too are bringing fresh perspectives to the culinary wealth of northeastern India. Shillong’s Shad Skye, a chic rooftop cocktail bar with a speakeasy vibe, celebrates hyperlocal produce with carefully crafted libations in keeping with the ethos of the ethnic communities. Helmed by local mixologist Rishot Laloo, the cocktail menu pays homage to the GI-tagged Lakadong turmeric, Khasi mandarin oranges, Naga wild apples, chakhao (Manipuri black rice), bamboo shoots, freshwater shrimps, ghost peppers, and local pinewood that is commonly used as fuel and to smoke meats. Laloo even concocts a drink by infusing flattened-rice water (chivda or rice flakes) and mango with rum, and aptly calls it ‘chire doi aam’, a nod to Tripura’s wholesome breakfast dish. In less than a year, Shad Skye has shaken up the cocktail scene in a seemingly laid-back town, with takeovers by some of the country’s popular bars, such as Mumbai’s Cirqa 1960 and Pune’s Cobbler & Crew.

The success of pop-ups makes it evident that Indian diners are hungry for new cuisines

For many, reimagining traditional flavours is a path to creative expression. Delhi-based Khasi chef Dalarympei Kharmawphlang, who co-runs a food and art collective called Pynche, says, “It’s a great way to ease my diners into unfamiliar territory. Only then do they become curious and ask questions.” For a farm workshop in Ri Bhoi, around 80km from Shillong, she collaborated with chef Ahmedaki Laloo of A’Origins (who will be doing a takeover at Mumbai’s Masque Lab on September 7) to design a contemporary menu using indigenous produce. About 50 artists, designers, and food professionals from Shillong, Assam, and Delhi went foraging for wild greens and berries, veggies and edible flowers, finally settling down for a mural painting activity. Lunch was smoked pork with tomatillo chutney wrapped in squash leaves, and freshwater prawn ceviche with leche de tigre made with sohphie berries, thanks to Kharmawphlang’s flair for Latin American food. “As a chef, it gives me a chance to highlight the potential of each ingredient beyond the traditional ways of enjoying them.”

It may not be an easy mission, but in the hands of these imaginative chefs, it is definitely not impossible. As they continue to delve into histories both gastronomical and personal, it’s evident that there’s a lot more to come—and that Indian diners are finally ready for it.