It’s rare that a Bengali wouldn’t swear by the explosive virtues of Kasundi, the stingingly pungent and delightfully tart, fermented mustard relish mandatorily served with crumb-fried fish and braised cutlets on the streets of Kolkata or drizzled over steaming hot rice and wilted greens in Bengali homes.
Outside West Bengal, few knew about this deliciously complex mustard until its recent admission to the pantries of adventurous chefs, who are replacing fancy European mustards with the indigenous Kasundi in gourmet platters. Be it on quirky menus of funky modern Indian restaurants such as Masala Library or Farzi Café, or in ingenious renditions of global classics, Kasundi has claimed a top slot on the ‘local meets global’ wagon.
Manu Chandra, chef-partner, Monkey Bar, says Kasundi is his favourite mustard. “I like its pickle-like quality and characteristic jhaanj (pungency),” says Chandra, who discovered Kasundi early in life through Bengali family-friends. “It is sharp yet mellow and well-rounded, and lends itself to a range of cuisines with brilliant results,” he vouches.
Chandra uses Kasundi on European-style steaks and pork ribs to pep up his sauces and dressings. At Olive Beach in Bengaluru, where he is the executive chef, he turns out a delightful mostarda di frutta with candied apples and Kasundi every Christmas.
There was sceptism about Kasundi’s appeal to the unsuspecting palate. “Over the last few years, the myth that Kasundi could only fit into the typical Bengali flavour profile has been busted,” says Sharad Dewan, executive chef, The Park Kolkata.
Dewan, once a Pommery loyalist, now swears by Kasundi. He uses it to trump up innovative Indian and European dishes. His Kasundi-laced fish tikka is a veritable crowd-puller, and his Ilish risotto is served with a savoury Kasundi-infused ice cream that gives the creamy dish that extra kick.
At Kolkata’s Bohemian, chef-owner Joymalya Banerjee trumps up a tender coconut mousse, spiked with a soupçon of Kasundi that gives it a faint but distinct punch. “It’s hard to come by the real thing any more. A particular variety of mustard originally used to make Kasundi is hardly farmed in Bengal anymore,” Banerjee says ruefully.
Dewan sources Kasundi from a group of women organic farmers and also makes it in-house. “Home-made Kasundi is a whole different deal,” he says.
Kasundi-making, originally a domestic practice, is an intricate gastronomic feat. The mustard is husked, washed, dried in the sun to take away the bitterness and introduce the pungency; pounded in a mortar with a pestle; pepped up with a hint of turmeric, chilies and muddled, tart raw mangoes, and fermented. Some recipes call for a dash of mustard oil.
“There are more complex varieties of Kasundi that use a host of spices and souring agents like amlaki (Indian gooseberries) or tamarind,” says food anthropologist and consultant Pritha Sen. Originally, the term Kasundi extended to a range of pickles that used dry, ground mustard. “The version that is now popular is only one particular kind, the Jhaal Kasundi,” says Sen.
“It is a delicate ingredient,” says Sabyasachi Gorai, who was among the first chefs to experiment with Kasundi in a global format. “During my stint at Olive in the mid-2000s, I received serious criticism for incorporating Kasundi in a European-style sauce,” says Gorai. This was long before Michelin chefs and gourmet kitchens began stocking up on the not-so-humble condiment, and Gorai was charged with Indianising the dish.
At Gorai’s Mehrauli restaurant, Lavash by Saby, Kasundi scores big on the Bengali-influenced Armenian menu. It comes drizzled over steaming, butter-laced Govindabhog rice or as a crucial component of his Imperial Calcutta Cheese Platter, which also packs in a splash of nolen gur (date palm jaggery) with cheeses such as Bandel and Kalimpong cheese, sourced from Bengal. “The star dishes on our menu, the Lavash Fish and the Onion Tolma, rely heavily on Kasundi,” says Gorai.
Chef Dewan also trumps up a ‘kasundilicious’ rendition of another Bengali classic, the Bekti Paturi, that traditionally uses fresh mustard paste. His Kasundi Paturi has fresh Bekti fillets smothered with organic Kasundi, jazzed up with tomatoes and green chilies, wrapped in banana leaves and steamed. If you’re looking for a European-style dish instead, ask for his Grilled Bekti doused in a unique Kasundi-infused white wine sauce. It’s a winner. So is Kasundi.