

There are dishes you grow up knowing by instinct, the sort that never needed a menu or a restaurant to tell you what they were. They arrived at the table in steel bowls, banana leaves or old cooking pots, and you simply knew that this was what home tasted like. Travel around India for long enough and you begin to realise how many such dishes exist, quietly loved in their own corners but almost invisible on restaurant menus.
Take aleesa from Kerala. Traditionally associated with the Malabar Muslim communities, this slow-cooked preparation sits somewhere between a porridge and a stew, made with wheat, meat and spices until everything becomes soft and almost silky. It is the sort of food that rewards patience. There is nothing flashy about it, but spoonful after spoonful, the richness becomes difficult to resist.
In Jharkhand, rugra is an entirely different kind of treasure. These wild mushrooms, found during the monsoon, have long been gathered from the forest and cooked simply with spices. Their earthy, almost meaty texture makes them particularly interesting, especially for anyone looking beyond the usual parade of restaurant mushrooms.
Nagaland's galho deserves a place beside the better-known smoked pork and fiery chutneys. It is a humble rice porridge cooked with meat, vegetables and greens, and is wonderfully adaptable. The rice softens into a comforting bowl while the meat and greens give it enough character to feel distinctly Naga.
Then there is eromba from Manipur, where fermented fish, chillies and vegetables are pounded together into something intensely savoury and deeply aromatic. Potatoes, greens and other local vegetables can all find their way into it. It is fiery, yes, but the heat is only one part of its appeal.
Assam offers khar, whose defining ingredient is not a spice at all but an alkaline extract traditionally made from sun-dried banana peels. Used in preparations with vegetables, pulses or raw papaya, it gives the food a distinctive earthy bitterness and a softness that is unlike most Indian flavours.
From Chhattisgarh comes fara, steamed rice-flour dumplings that are often filled or mixed with lentils and served as a snack or light meal. They are wonderfully plain in the best possible way, with the chewiness of steamed rice dough making them an ideal canvas for a spicy accompaniment.
Kafuli from Uttarakhand is green, nourishing and intensely comforting. Made with leafy greens such as spinach and fenugreek, often thickened with rice or millet flour, it is mountain food in the truest sense. It feels designed for cold evenings and tired travellers.
In Odisha, pakhala bhata needs little introduction to anyone who has eaten at an Odia home. Cooked rice is soaked and lightly fermented, then eaten cool with accompaniments such as fried fish, vegetables and pickles. On a hot day, few things sound as sensible.
Mizoram has sanpiau, a simple rice porridge that can be cooked with meat or fish and finished with herbs, chillies and fresh accompaniments. It has the gentle, restorative quality of food made when you want to be fed rather than impressed.
Tripura's awan bangwi is sticky rice wrapped in banana leaves and steamed until fragrant and compact. Traditionally made for special occasions, it has that lovely quality of festival food that can be eaten with almost anything savoury.
Bengal's mutton with colocasia, or mangsher jhol with kochu, is another reminder that Bengali cooking extends far beyond kosha mangsho and fish curry. The earthy colocasia absorbs the mutton gravy beautifully, giving the familiar Sunday-style jhol a completely different character.
And from Bihar comes dal pithi, little rice-flour dumplings cooked with lentils and spices. It is rustic, filling and immensely comforting, the sort of dish that could easily become someone's new favourite if a restaurant simply gave it a chance.
For more updates, join/follow our WhatsApp, Telegram and YouTube channels.