Happy Laphing

It was quite by accident that we found our homestay in Happy Valley, Mussoorie, just a stone’s throw from Dalai Hills and the Shedup Choephelling Buddhist Temple. This is where the Dalai Lama consecrated his first Tibetan temple in India, and on the way up you pass the first Tibetan school in the country. The complex even has a room reserved for His Holiness the Dalai Lama. The entire place feels serene and peaceful. In Dehradun, we visited the more modern Mindrolling Monastery, which carried the same quiet aura and dignified ambience.

The Shedup Choephelling Monastery

The Stupa at Mindrolling Monastery

Our monastery visits were inextricably linked with an equally immersive experience of Tibetan food. Until then, our association with Tibetan cuisine had been limited to thukpa and momos. This trip opened up our taste buds to other delicate new flavors and dishes.

The first to catch our eye were the many 'Laphing' street food stalls. These soft yellow rolls of happiness looked like open laughing mouths. “Laphing”, though, means cold noodles. The cool, mildly sweet flat noodle rolls give way to a fiery center of minced meat tossed in a spicy sauce.

Laphing

Thereafter, the tongue craves something more nourishing: thentuk. Unlike the more ubiquitous thukpa, thentuk is prepared with flat, uneven squares—or “pulls”—of dough, torn by hand directly into the boiling broth. Both dishes share a similar comforting base of hearty meat or vegetable broth, richly seasoned with garlic, ginger, and warming spices, and loaded with seasonal hill vegetables. But the similarity ends there. The freshly torn noodles and the use of a single type of meat gives thentuk a rustic charm all its own. Thukpa, by comparison, is usually made with more regular ramen-style noodles, often with mixed meats and sometimes topped with an egg.

Thentuk: Less is More

The loaded Thukpa

The food is flavorful, wholesome, and Comfort with a capital C—the culinary equivalent of a warm hug of a loved one on a cold mountain morning, leaving you loaded with happiness and 'laphing' all the way.

Gharwali Garhwali

 (Homestyle Garhwali Food in Mussoorie)

When you are wandering through Mussoorie, it is easy to assume that the town runs on two things alone: endless cups of chai (in kulhad) and steaming plates of pahadi Maggi. Or perhaps you might conclude that “local food” simply means the familiar North Indian spread of parathas, dal, aloo gobi, and chicken curry. And if you ask your driver for a recommendation, chances are he will enthusiastically point you toward some “badhiya Italian khana” — usually code for creamy red- or white-sauce pasta and paneer / chicken pizzas.

But if you are determined (and just a little food-obsessed), Mussoorie rewards you with something far more memorable: honest, hearty Garhwali home cooking.

We began our search somewhat misguidedly, looking online for non-vegetarian Garhwali dishes. The internet happily listed all sorts of tempting recipes flavoured with local herbs and spices, but was remarkably unhelpful when it came to telling us where to actually eat them.

That is how we stumbled upon Hills-E-Ishq, a charming little restaurant run by Ashu. Perched on a hillside, with barely half a dozen tables and a queue that seems to move at mountain pace, it serves a vegetarian thali that is worth every minute of waiting.

Hemp seed chutney

Ashu suggested we start with crispy stinging nettle fritters paired with bhang-seed chutney and a chilled glass of rhododendron lassi. The drink’s deep pink hue brought back memories of Rooh Afza — not all of them pleasant, thanks to my Delhi school days — but this drink was unique and wonderfully refreshing.

Rhododendron Lassi

Finger Nettle Fritters

Lunch began with phanu, a robust and spicy lentil soup that wakes up the palate. Then came the stars of the meal: earthy mandwe (finger millet) rotis, kandali (stinging nettle) saag, alu thichwani, mixed dal, and red rice, with generous dollops of that addictive bhang-seed chutney.

And for dessert, jhangore ki kheer — a creamy pudding made from barnyard millet — offered just the right touch of sweetness to end the meal on a comforting note.

The Garhwali Thali

As unapologetic non-vegetarians, we were surprised by how thoroughly we enjoyed this simple yet deeply flavorful spread.

While waiting for our table, we struck up a conversation with the restaurant’s usher, whose job seemed equal parts host and culinary evangelist. He proudly told us that Hills-E-Ishq was among the first restaurants in the region to champion local cuisine. He also tipped us off about another place to try: The Tavern, just off Mall Road, where the menu features exactly three Garhwali dishes — a vegetarian thali, Pahadi kukkad (chicken curry), and the much-loved Bhunni (or Bhunyu Bukhtya), a rich, slow-cooked mutton preparation made in a traditional iron wok.

Naturally, we rushed there that very evening.

The chicken curry had sold out, but they were happy to pack us a portion of the Bhunni, albeit with a few cautionary notes. Some diners, we were told, find the mutton a little chewy and are put off by the fact that it is cooked with the skin on. Undeterred, we carried home our parcel, along with cracker-like heart-shaped millet rotis and a helping of spicy mint chutney.

Finger Millet Crackers

Red Rice & Bhunni

By the end of the day, tired but immensely satisfied, we found ourselves licking our fingers and wondering why Garhwali food remains one of the Himalayas’ best-kept secrets. Simple, nourishing, and packed with character, it tastes exactly like what it is meant to be — homestyle food cooked with love, for family, and for anyone lucky enough to find it.

Sometimes the best souvenirs from the mountains are not shawls or photographs, but the lingering taste of a meal that feels like home.

A Taste of Georgia

You may ignore the chashushuli,
Or skip the ojhakhuri,
But when in Georgia,
Don’t be a bourgeois—
Eat with your hands khinkali and khachapuri!

Georgian food invites poetry. Each dish carries a story, and as you eat, you gather memories to take home.

Let’s start by quite literally getting a handle on our food. Khinkali, believed to have arrived with the Mongols in the 13th century, originated in Georgia’s mountains. These taste like meat dumplings or momos and the filling is held together with a topknot. Eaten by hand, gripping the twisted topknot to sip the hot, savoury broth inside before finishing the dumpling. The handle is always discarded.

Khinkalis - The dumpling with a handle

The Adjaruli Khachapuri tells another tale. This boat-shaped cheese bread arrives piping hot, crowned with a raw egg and butter. You tear off the crust and swiftly mix it all together. Its form is said to mirror a boat on the Black Sea, with the filling symbolising the sea, sun, and the coastal region of Adjara—lovingly served by mothers and wives to bring luck to fishermen heading out to sea.

Adjaruli Khachapuri - bringing luck to fishermen at sea

Pork Mtsvadi (kebabs)

Our driver lights up the BBQ

In Georgia, eating is far more than sustenance; it lies at the heart of hospitality and social life. If you hesitate over a menu or enjoy a dish too visibly, expect help from a smiling stranger. They genuinely look happy to see you enjoy their cuisine. After exploring the Uplistsikhe caves, we found a nearby eatery closed, yet the owners lit a barbeque and, with help from our cab driver, treated us to fresh pork mtsvadi (kebabs).

The joy of travel continues at home. We recreated Badrijani Nigvzit—eggplant with walnut paste—an effortless cocktail snack. Roast or fry eggplant slices, spread with garlicky walnut paste, garnish with pomegranate seeds, and serve. Simple, and deeply Georgian.

  

A twist to the Eggplant