Where to eat hot ‘kochuris' in Kolkata

Mint

11 hours ago

What is Kolkata's favourite breakfast, especially on a Sunday? For many, it is cha, kochuri and mishti.
On my first morning in the city during a recent field trip, I hit two out of the three: a hot cup of milky, sweet tea from a roadside stall followed by a breakfast of kochuri (Bengali for kachori) at Adi Haridas Modak in Shyambazar. If you walk around the city's neighbourhoods in the morning, you'll find a kochuri shop at every corner of the street. For someone raised on a steady dose of the legendary Lucknow-style kachoris, the Kolkata experience is uniquely different. Unlike the wholewheat, dark brown ones of the former, the kochuris here are more delicate and made with refined flour. The khasta-ness—the thin and crumbly top layer that forms upon frying—is identical.
Kochuris for breakfast almost comes as a second nature for Kolkatans. It's a staple across age-groups and social class—those heading home after their morning walk, college students, office-goers, and daily wage workers—can be seen enjoying a plate or two. 'People in the east wake up earlier as dawn is around 5am, setting the breakfast time to around 7am, and lunch is usually around 1pm. So, a kochuri-torkari (vegetable side or subzi) keeps us going. It's also affordable, and costs about ₹20 for a plate," says Sanhita Dasgupta Sensarma, a city-based food documentarian.
In a scene from the 2015 film Piku, Amitabh Bachchan's character Bhaskor Banerjee cycles across Kolkata, parks at a kochuri shop, and enjoys the dish before heading back home. The next morning, he dies peacefully in his sleep. The scene is like a metaphor; I suppose eating hot kochuris is akin to visiting God's abode. The shop featured in the film is one of the popular ones, Mohan Bhandar in Dharmatala, that recently completed 100 years. It makes the classic hing (asafoetida) kochuri with a filling of split white urad dal, and is served with a runny potato curry that derives its flavour from a tempering of panch phoron or the Bengali five-spice mix.
'Our speciality is the green chilli pickle that you will not find anywhere else," says owner Vikas Jaiswal, whose great-grandfather migrated from Allahabad, and opened the shop in 1925. The pickle is an Allahabadi touch, where they are also served with a sweet and sour tamarind chutney, that is available at Mohan Bhandar ( ₹50 for 4 kochuris).
Being over a century old, and visited by Bengali legends, are the two markers of an iconic kochuri shop, and Adi Haridas Modak checks both boxes. The 250-year-old shop was started by Satyendranath Das Modak in 1780, who named it after his son. The kochuris ( ₹36 for 3), are served with mildly-sweet cholar dal or chana dal cooked with diced potatoes on a banana leaf. 'We still make our masalas in the hamam dasta (traditional mortar and pestle) like it used to happen during my forefathers' time," says the sixth-generation owner Indrajit Modak, claiming it was frequented by the likes of Ramakrishna Paramhansa and his disciple Swami Vivekananda during the city's renaissance period in the 19th and early 20th centuries.
Kochuri is not a homogenous entity, as it changes flavours, and even shapes depending on who is making it. Apart from the classic hing-er kochuri, there's koraishuti-r kochuri made with green peas during winter, sattu by the Bihari migrants, and club kochuri, which are golf ball-sized from the Marwari community.
Like the kochuri, the accompanying potato curry also differs across the city. 'Bengalis originally from West Bengal prefer sweetness in their food, as opposed to those migrated from East Bengal, where more spice or chillies are used. So you will find the torkari in North Kolkata (the older part of the city) to be slightly sweeter," says Dasgupta Sensarma. At Geetika on Sukia Street and Nandy Sweets ( ₹14 for 2 hing kochuris), Goabagan Road, both located in the Manicktala area and run by Bengalis, the torkari is made of potatoes with the skin on, and has hints of ginger, and the unmistaken sweetness that comes from the addition of sugar.
In Howrah, the city on the western bank of the Hooghly, too, the love for kochuri is the same. On Dobson Road, two kochuri shops, both run by Marwaris—Lali Chhangani and Vaishno Sweets & Snacks ( ₹36 for)—are jam-packed with people queuing up to get their Sunday breakfast. Both make club kochuri that are puffed up and crispy, with a filling of urad dal. At Lali Chhangani, a branch of the 50-year-old shop located in Bara Bazar, it is served in a large conical bowl made of dried leaves. The torkari here is spicy compared to the shops run by the Bengalis and those from Uttar Pradesh; a layer of red chilli oil on top is an indication. At Vaishno Sweets, it also includes paneer and chole, with a generous topping of sev. The Marwaris migrated to Kolkata in the 19th century as traders and merchants, and brought with them their unique food traditions.
At Sharma Sweets and Snacks ( ₹12 per kochuri) in Lake Market, South Kolkata, I found the torkari closer to the one made in Lucknow—flavoured with coriander seeds and fennel. The city is dotted with kochuri shops named Sharma Sweets run by migrants from Uttar Pradesh. 'There's a Bihari version too, which has garlic. One can find it in the Bara Bazar area, or Howrah where there are more Bihari migrants," adds Dasgupta Sensarma.
I am a Lucknow kachori fiend, and yet I find Kolkata's kochuri culture unique, with each migrant community bringing its own flavour, and tying it neatly to the city's inherent love for deep-fried breads.
Shirin Mehrotra is a Delhi-based food writer and researcher