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Hindustan Times
3 days ago
- Hindustan Times
Mango takes the cake: How king of fruits continues to reign over hearts and palates
New Delhi, It tastes like the Indian summer and feels like nostalgia. Mango, at least for Indians, is much more than a fruit, it's an emotion. Yet, its true power, with over "1,400 varieties" across the world, lies in its unrivalled versatility. Mango takes the cake: How king of fruits continues to reign over hearts and palates Because, according to experts, from street snacks to gourmet dishes, the mango doesn't just fit in it reinvents itself, season after season, all while holding its own and its crown as the undisputed king of fruits. Not for nothing, every year without a miss, it is raining mango festivals in the town, celebrating the beloved fruit in all its glorious forms a privilege reserved for only the rarest of fruits. Chef Naresh Kotwal, head chef at Ikk Panjab, describes it best when he calls mango a "bridge between nostalgia and innovation". "It's like that one guest who blends in effortlessly, no matter the gathering. Its dual nature sweet and lush when ripe, tart and punchy when raw gives it a wide canvas to play on," said Kotwal, who recently curated "Dawat-e-Aam", a celebration of mango's many moods. The festival explored the fruit's versatility through desi innovations ranging from 'Aam Kasundi Paneer Tikka' and 'Aam aur Aloo ki Tikki' to 'Raw Mango Kachumber' and 'Mango Lachha Salad', capturing flavours that were sweet, tangy, spicy, and even smoky. The love for this stone fruit in India can quite literally be measured in millions of tonnes. According to "Mango: A Global History" by Constance L Kirker and Mary Newman, which cites data from the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations, India produced nearly half of the world's mangoes — over 24 million tonnes — in 2020 alone. Despite this staggering output, the book notes that only around 1,73,000 tonnes were exported, with nearly 30 percent headed to the UAE and Saudi Arabia. "The rest are used for domestic consumption," claims the book, a telling testament to just how deeply mango is woven into the fabric of Indian life. But then mango isn't just a national obsession, the Indian sub-continent gift to the world adapts beautifully across borders and cuisines from Thai mango sticky rice to Mexican mango with chili-lime salt. This fusion of global flavors with Indian mangoes is now a staple at high-end restaurants, where well-travelled diners crave the best of both worlds — gourmet innovation and desi nostalgia. Chef Kaushik Mishra of Taj Mahal, New Delhi, notes how "built-in balance of sugar and acidity" in mango helps it complement bold spices, herbs, and even dairy. He showcases it at Captain's Cellar in the Taj Mahal, the 'Mango Sushi' jasmine rice with Alphonso, served with a soy-coconut dip — bridging Asian precision with Indian nostalgia, and at Machan, where the 'Mango Roll' and 'Mango Custard Danish' offer both freshness and indulgence in one bite. "It cools chili heat in Thai salads, enhances masalas in Indian chutneys, brightens Mexican snacks, and adds velvet richness to European desserts. Whether it's a salad or a dessert, mango adapts with quiet confidence across cuisines and cultures. Machan also serves seasonal special for breakfast which is Mango Custard Danish, in addition to a variety of fresh mangoes," added Mishra. Echoing Mishra's sentiments is Chef Shantanu Mehrotra, executive chef at Indian Accent, Delhi. A fan of classics like 'Aamras poori', 'Mango with sticky rice', and even a spicy 'Picante' with mango juice, Mehrotra believes the possibilities with this sinful fruit are simply endless. For a more innovative take, he points to the 'Meetha Achar Pork Spare Ribs' on the restaurant's menu — a bold dish where pork ribs are tossed in a sweet and sour mango 'chunda' pickle. "You can add any number of things to it, and mango will still make them shine while holding its own distinct flavour. Add chillies, sprinkle rock salt, pair it with seafood or with jasmine rice to make a classic mango sticky rice — the possibilities are endless," he explained. Beyond the plate, mango makes itself count in the glass too. So, when Jones Elish, Beverage Head at Impresario Hospitality, crafted the "Mango Map" — a cocktail journey through global drinking cultures linked by mango's versatility — it was an instant hit across Smoke House Deli outlets pan-India. From a raw mango and spice concoction inspired by Mexico to a smooth mango-whiskey blend nodding to Ireland, the fruit took the center stage confidently adapting effortlessly to every flavour profile. "It pairs effortlessly with a variety of spirits, herbs, and bitters, adapting its mood depending on where you want the drink to go; tropical, spiced, citrus-forward, or creamy and indulgent... In each drink, it sets the stage, balances the flavours, and leaves a lasting impression," he said. Raising the bar further, Radico Khaitan Limited — one of India's largest IMFL companies — also recently launched a new range of flavoured vodka, with Alphonso Mango as a tribute to India's favourite summer fruit. Beyond its flavour, chefs believe that what truly adds to the mango's irresistible charm is its fleeting nature the fact that it is seasonal and only available during a limited window each year While some, like Chef Mishra, admit that dehydrated mango can work well for garnishes or infusions and that preserves too have their place, most agree that nothing compares to the joy of the real thing, in its season. "We like to mix things up and keep it exciting, and when there's no good mango in the season, we just move on and wait for the next one,' said Mehrotra. So, while other fruits may have their moment jackfruit as a meat substitute or guava in fine dining desserts — surpassing mango in both artistry and versatility remains a tall order. Or as chef Kotwal puts it: "Mango doesn't just sit on the throne it dances, dazzles, and disappears, leaving you wanting more". This article was generated from an automated news agency feed without modifications to text.
New Indian Express
03-07-2025
- General
- New Indian Express
In Praise of the Samosa
If you know me even a little, you'll know about my unwavering love for the humble samosa. And now, with the monsoon clouds gathering over Delhi, that craving only grows stronger with every grey sky and cool breeze. I can't quite recall when this love affair with the triangular snack began, but I've sampled countless versions from different regions over the years. After much enthusiastic research, I've concluded that my favourites are the classic Punjabi samosa—stuffed with potatoes, coarse coriander seeds, a hint of salt, and, when in season, sweet green peas—and the Bengali singhara, with its delicate diced potato and peanut filling. Paired with garam chai served in a mati'r bhaar (clay cup), few things come close. Chef Naresh Kotwal of Ikk Panjab has, rather amusingly, taken it upon himself to fuel this obsession. Every time he spots me, he appears with a plate of piping hot samosas in hand. His version isn't the oversized, dough-heavy rendition so common outside Punjab. Instead, these are perfectly proportioned, with an ideal ratio of crisp casing to soft, flavourful filling. True to tradition, they are lightly spiced, relying on texture and balance rather than fiery heat—the way samosas are made across Punjab. Of course, it's no secret that the samosa didn't originate in India. Known historically as sambusek, its roots trace back to 7th-century Central Asia, particularly Kazakhstan. 'The original samosa was more of a dumpling,' explains food anthropologist Dr Kurush Dalal. 'A ceramic bowl would be filled with meat, sealed with dough, and slow-cooked inside a tandoor.' Like many culinary traditions, the samosa made its way to India along the ancient spice routes. It is widely believed that the Turks first brought it to the subcontinent. However, the original meat-filled version didn't quite suit the local palate. Over time, Indian resourcefulness transformed the samosa, giving rise to countless regional interpretations. In North India, you'll find the familiar potato-filled samosa, laced with coriander seeds; in Bengal, the delicate singhara, its filling of diced potatoes or seasonal vegetables; in Gujarat, the crisp, crescent-shaped ghughra packed with fresh produce; Bihar's hearty mutton samosa; the Jain community's dry fruit-stuffed variety; and, of course, the indulgent, sweet mawa samosa enjoyed across states, especially Rajasthan. At a recent event celebrating the launch of her book Monsoon: The Indian Season of Resilience and Flavour at Ikk Panjab in Connaught Place, Chef Asma Khan reminded us of how much of our food heritage has been shaped by cultural exchange. 'Just because invaders brought something here doesn't make it any less Indian,' she pointed out. 'We adopted it, adapted it, and made it our own—and how!' The Bohra community's arrival in India further added to this evolving tapestry with the 'patti' samosa—delicate parcels wrapped in thin sheets of dough, crisp and golden. The southern states took to this too, giving rise to Hyderabad's luqmi, typically filled with spiced mince or eggs, and Chennai's famed onion patti samosa. Among Bohras, the smoked toor dal patti samosa remains a shining example of culinary mastery. Given Delhi's reputation as India's melting pot, you'd expect to find versions of these samosas tucked away across the city. And you do—but not always in the way tradition intended. In a somewhat comical twist, the capital has embraced a modern lineage of samosas: chowmein samosas, pizza samosas, pasta samosas—the list continues. Places like Munni Lal Halwai in Chandni Chowk still serve the traditional, flaky-edged Punjabi samosa, bursting with potatoes, peas, and the unmistakable scent of coriander seeds. Meanwhile, Bangla Sweet House in Gole Market is known for its giant, generously spiced versions. Those seeking something different might find themselves at street stalls in Lajpat Nagar or Karol Bagh, where experimental flavours like cheesy pizza samosas or chowmein-filled varieties are all the rage. To be clear, I have nothing against these new-age samosas. They're fun, quirky, and—let's be honest—they taste more like spring rolls or calzones than the original triangular parcels of joy. But isn't that the beauty of it? Call it innovation, call it reinvention; every version adds another layer to our shared food history. There's room for them all to coexist—a crispy, spicy, flaky reminder that food, like culture itself, never stays still.
