Celebrated chef Joel Basumatari from Nagaland speaks about the flavours of Northeast cuisine on the sidelines of his recent pop-up

The pop-up at The Market, The Westin Pune Koregaon Park, was a celebration of North East Indian cuisine, featuring dishes from all eight states through a rotating menu. The menu featured Masor Tenga, Til Diya Murghi Mangxo, and Alu Pitika from Assam; Awoshi Kipiki Ngo Axone (fermented soybean) from Nagaland; Momo from Sikkim; Ja Stem (turmeric rice) from Meghalaya; Tohan Mosdeng (spicy local salad) from Tripura; Pehak Chutney and Wungwut Ngam from Arunachal Pradesh; Bai and Sanpiau from Mizoram; and Ooti, Ngari Chutney, and Aromba from Manipur.

Since returning from working in modern European kitchens in 2012, I’ve aimed to use traditional Northeast ingredients and techniques—like fermentation, minimal masalas, and local staples such as rice and greens—while presenting them in ways that feel relevant to modern diners. It’s a matter of respecting where the food comes from, but sharing it in styles that appeal and educate.

Our cuisine is naturally light, with few added masalas. I recommend Zantho zylum seeds and sumac powder, both with medicinal benefits. Sumac, with its sour zing, even acts as a natural meat tenderiser. Most of our ingredients are foraged or organically farmed, making them ideal for health-conscious eating.

Yes, over the last decade, awareness has grown. Events like the Hornbill Festival—now in its 26th year in 2025—have helped draw tourists, and social media has amplified that exposure. It’s opened up curiosity and visibility, though there’s still a journey ahead before Northeast cuisine becomes widely known.

One technique I’m passionate about reviving is cooking meats and fish in bamboo over an open fire — it’s aromatic, earthy, and completely sustainable. Fermentation is another thing we are championing. We’ve also reintroduced lesser-known ingredients like Kholar beans — similar to rajma but with a more robust flavour — and wild greens and tubers that were slowly vanishing. From the Chakashan tribe, Küse — a honey-mixed millet porridge — is something we’re encouraging younger generations to appreciate.

First, many believe Bhut Jolokia holds the highest heat level, but Raja Mircha (King Chili) from Nagaland is equally—and by some measures—more intense. The second is that Bhut Jholokia is solely about extreme spice. When grown organically, it’s more nuanced—fruity, smoky, and layered.

I see Naga cuisine — and Northeastern food at large — slowly finding its place not just in fine-dining setups but also on the streets and in home kitchens outside the region. My goal is to see more people cooking our food, talking about our ingredients, and creating markets that value the producers. Whether it’s through pop-ups, curated events, or community dining formats, I hope our food becomes more visible, accessible, and preserved — especially in its street-style formats, which carry a different kind of cultural depth.

Awoshi Kipiki Ngo Axone — smoked pork with fermented soybean — is a dish that instantly takes me back to childhood. I remember it being cooked by the house lady in our home, the way the aroma would fill the kitchen and how we all sat together to eat. It’s more than just food — it’s a feeling, a memory. This dish is one of the reasons I became a chef — to recreate those stories on a plate.

Often, reactions range from cautious to amazed. Many aren’t expecting fermented notes or smoky undertones, so it can surprise them. There’s sometimes initial hesitation, but once guests try a dish again, they usually come back for more. It often turns into an acquired love.

I’m planning to open a villa café in Guwahati, where Northeast ingredients will take centre stage even against global flavors. More pop-ups are definitely on the horizon, alongside collaborative dinners and sauce development under Saucy Joe’s, which I run with my wife.