The giant Kangra spread

Dishes such as paratha-eggs, mutton curry-rice or momos that dominate the menus in dhabas and small eateries along the state highways in Himachal Pradesh barely represent the state’s cuisine. It’s not surprising since many traditional dishes have long preparation times and are usually made in huge quantities. 

Regional cuisines tell stories of the thrill of improvisation with local ingredients — the ingenuity with which they were combined to create recipes that were handed down, and replicated across homes. However, the higher, remoter climbs of Himachal have little to offer; for not much grew there and, for some reason, culinary enterprise was not forthcoming.

The north-western part of state, however, was another story.
Bordering the state of Jammu and Kashmir, the Chamba and Kangra districts are home of the Gujjars, a tribe of shepherds who travel across the Dhauladhar ranges with their sheep. Curd and chaas (buttermilk), therefore, figure in a number of regional preparations.

One of the kings of Chamba, fondly remembered as a food fiend, fell in love with Kashmiri food during one of his visits. He sent his men to the valley to find the best khansamas (professional cooks) who would experiment to create similar dishes just for him. One such trial gave to Chamba the rajma madra — kidney beans made with a base of almost fried curd and dried coconut.

Madra, in fact, became a suffix for anything cooked in curd and a technique in its own right. Unlike other techniques of cooking in curd, where curd lends mellowness to flavours, the madras are spicy and cooked in liberal amounts of oil. According to locals, Chamba brides brought this culinary to Kangra.

Given that the region wasn’t abundant in onion, tomato, garlic or ginger in earlier times, these are still used sparingly. And so, spices such as coriander, chilli, asafoetida, fennel seeds, garam masala, cooked in mustard oil, form the backbone of any preparation. All cooking can broadly be divided into curd-based, where the curd is painstakingly cooked in oil and then the meat, legumes or veggies are added to it; or aamchur-based which is simply called khatta.

The original innovators in the Kangra and Chamba region are a community of Brahmin cooks called the botis, who are commissioned to cook at weddings and special occasions. As per tradition, every village had a boti, who at the end of the year, would be rewarded with a bagful of wheat.

Over the years, the community has created a standard repertoire that can be made only at a function. Even the tourism department hotels — who will ask you to place an order for a selected few of these dishes 12 hours in advance — cannot create the flavours that botis create in huge quantities in ceremonies called dham, or community kitchens.

The preparation for such meals begins a day before because a lot of it involves cooking over slow heat, and some elaborate procedures. A curry base made with charred walnuts ground on stone and mixed with aamchur, is one such dish served during dhams.

The line up at dhams including madras of many kinds, khajur kadhi (a curry made with dried dates and butter milk), khatta kaddu (sour pumpkin), chana rentha (sour gram curry), boor ki kari, mhani (raw mango boiled and mashed with the seed included with a tadka of jaggery and rock salt).

This invariably ends with mittha, a dessert of sweet caramelised rice, liberally mixed with raisins and dry fruit. This spread is served on dried leaves stitched together with twigs. People sit in a file on the floor, and the dishes come in a sequence — from neutral, to sour, to sour-sweet and ends, as tradition goes, with sweet.

The way the people of the valley dress up is reflected in their food — incredibly colourful and intense. But this spread is not made at home or restaurants day-to-day; if you want to sample it, inviting yourself over to somebody’s place would be the second-best bet. For the real thing, you will just have to gatecrash a wedding when you go visiting Kangra.