Mandua Roti
Finger millet from the water mill, slapped onto the iron tawa. Nutty, dense, faintly sweet.
BERINAG
1,740 metres · Kumaon Himalaya
000
The kitchen
February means mustard greens and radish; July, beans and far too much spinach; October, everything at once. The gas ring is there — nobody uses it. Everything comes off the chulha, fed with fallen pine and oak.
The kitchen door does not close. Lift the lid on the pot — by the second day the tongs will be in your hand.
The dishes
Not the hill-station restaurant version — what is cooked in houses on this ridge, most days.
Finger millet from the water mill, slapped onto the iron tawa. Nutty, dense, faintly sweet.
Black soybean roasted, ground and simmered two hours with jakhya and garlic. The dish people write about.
Small waxy hill potatoes tossed in mustard oil, red chilli and coriander seed.
Barnyard millet cooked down in our own milk with jaggery. Sundays and birthdays.
From our own two cows, milked at 5.30. Be in the shed at dawn to learn how.
Whatever was standing in soil that morning — spinach, radish, beans, pumpkin.
From A neighbour’s wall hives two doors down. Pale after the rhododendron bloom.
Roti, ghee, seasonal pickle and tea, carried to whichever terrace has the sun.
The day, from the kitchen
The chulha is lit at 5.15 and banked at nine. In ten years it has gone fully cold twice.
The first tea is made with milk that was in a cow eleven minutes earlier.
Roti off the tawa, ghee, malta pickle in winter — out on the sunny terrace.
Dal, rice, a vegetable, roti, fresh chutney. Second helpings are assumed.
Everyone eats together. The eldest of the house is served first — the one formality here.
Dietary
Tell us at booking, not on arrival — the nearest shop is fifty-five kilometres away.
Dinner is at seven. There is a place at the table — tell us when you are coming and about any diet.