Tastes that only the hills remember

Sarika Sharma

In a world ready to lap up food fads, traditional wisdom has been relegated to history. The foods that fortified our ancestors, the grains that shaped our genes were all given up — first for the tastier and then the fancier. There came “ancient grains”. We were told quinoa was high in fibre and had more protein than any other grain. Then came chia seeds. They told us these seeds with gelatine-like consistency were packed with nutrients and didn’t burden the body with carbohydrates. It wasn’t until glossy magazines and international chefs started telling us about the goodness of our own grains and greens that we realised what we were losing.

Amid this background, Veena Sharma’s cookbook, ‘Vegetarian Cuisine from the Himalayan Foothills: Flavours and Beyond’ does a great favour to those from the Himalayan foothills, not just in Uttarakhand (where she, and the book, is based), but also in Himachal Pradesh, food traditions of the two states being rooted in the same ingredients. She introduces one to the various legumes indigenous to Uttarakhand, the seeds, the herbs and the spices that were once integral to cooking in its homes and the vegetables native to the place. Head of Swahili Service, External Services Division, All India Radio, for nearly 22 years, the author shifted to Uttarakhand a few years ago. This shift, she writes, made her engage with food in a way she hadn’t known. The local grains, lentils, nuts and seeds made her connect to “the soil, the sun, the wind… that nurtured my body and mind.”

Lentils like Harsil ke rajma, crunchy hemp seeds, the ubiquitous dried faran leaves — hailing from the onion family but lacking its pungency, the amazing chora, which isn’t great to taste, but enhances the flavour of a dish and makes it easily digestible. The author says the journey to the realisation of the special benefits of these foods is slow, but is deeply connected to the mind.

Each chapter gives an overview of the subject and follows it up with recipes. Uttarakhandi cuisine is rich in millets such as mandua and jhangora. Also used is flour from seeds and lentils such as soya, amaranth, water chestnut and chickpea and sama rice. The book illustrates various sweets and savouries made out of these flours — chilla, halwa, kadhi, pakoras being some, besides breads, of course. For the vegans, the book has recipes in making vegan paneer, vegan raita, vegan brulee and pumpkin pancakes. She gives a peek into a myriad local chutneys, of which we tried two — amla aur sev ki chutney (goodseberry and apple) being one and dried date and fenugreek chutney the other. For the enthusiastic, it may be difficult to procure the flours, spices, herbs and seeds. However, Sharma makes a point to share that some vendors sell them online.

What seems odd though is the use of coconut, chia and oats that aren’t native to Uttarakhand hills. The author, however, does explain her rationale behind the use of coconut. She says that since Rishikesh is a holy town and coconut is integral to Hindu rituals, these abound the little shops in markets.

For the urban readers, who may not have the palates for the very basic Uttarakhandi recipes, she suggests tossing up an amaranth seed pizza, baked savouries with jowar and kasuri methi, zucchini and sweet potatoes tossed in mustard and poppy seeds. Actually, barring a few recent fancy food pop-ups in the metros, Uttarakhandi cuisine, as also Himachali, has always remained confined to its state of origin. To be honest, these may also never match the popularity of a Punjabi or Rajasthani cuisine for their sheer simplicity. Whose loss?