As an army kid, summer holidays rarely meant choosing between beaches and mountains. The road usually led to two places—maternal or paternal grandparents’ home—where cousins, long afternoons, and familiar kitchens waited. Being posted across India at a time when travel wasn’t as commonplace as it is today also meant returning with what we would now call edible souvenirs: motichoor ladoos from Lovely Sweets in Jalandhar, gajak from Khatri Gajak Bhandar in Jodhpur, baal mithai from Ellora’s in Dehradun, and noodles from Thimphu and Gangtok.
Things have changed since then. Almost every regional speciality can now be delivered across the country within days, sometimes hours. Karachi Bakery’s fruit biscuits are no longer confined to Hyderabad. Chitale Bandhu’s bakarwadi and Laxminarayan chivda aren’t only picked up while passing through Pune. Agra’s petha or Nagaland’s pickles are available in a few clicks. Easier access and convenience have introduced people to foods they may never have encountered otherwise, allowing small producers to travel far beyond their hometowns.
But there has been another shift as well. For generations, food was proof of how people had travelled. Mysore pak from Mysuru, Darjeeling tea from West Bengal, and farsan from Gujarat weren’t just gifts; they revealed where they had gone and what they had brought back.
Food historians have long argued that this relationship between place and flavour is central to the travel experience. A 2018 study published in the European Journal of Tourism Research describes local food as more than sustenance, calling it a way “of communicating local values and connecting visitors with a destination’s distinct way of life”.
“Food, like fragrance, shapes our memories,” says Chicago-based food historian and author Colleen Taylor Sen. Regional specialities may now be easier than ever to buy, but she believes place still matters. She shares that she currently has two boxes of Karachi Bakery biscuits bought from a local store in Chicago in her kitchen. Even so, she wants to visit Hyderabad for its biryani.
For some things don’t travel intact. “You simply cannot get good Bengali sweets outside of Bengal. The water, the milk, the sugar—what the French call terroir—and the skill of the moiras (sweet makers) simply cannot be duplicated elsewhere,” says Sen.
Perhaps that’s why culinary tourism continues to thrive despite the proliferation of online shopping. “It’s still important where a food comes from,” she adds.
That sense of place matters to brands that have grown far beyond their hometowns. Pune’s Chitale Bandhu, whose bakarwadi has long been synonymous with the city, now reaches customers through more than 50,000 retailers across India and exports to 35 countries. Yet, says Akshay B. Londhe, head of PR and brand communication: “Bakarwadi may be available across India, but that has only increased demand.”
The 75-year-old company sells more than 500 products, many of them available through e-commerce and quick-commerce platforms, but store sales remain strong. “Whether it’s our hero product bakarwadi or the amba barfi, everyone from Gen Z to grandparents still want to visit a local Chitale store and buy them fresh,” says Londhe. Shopping in Pune remains part of the experience. “The freshness of the products, atmosphere of the store and chance to explore the city’s food culture make buying here different.”
Harjinder Bains of Lovely Sweets in Jalandhar agrees. The shop has been around since 1961, and Bains has spent the past 18 years behind the counter watching generations of travellers take home boxes of its signature motichoor ladoos and pinnis. The menu has evolved with changing tastes. Dry fruit gur samosas, flaxseed chana barfi and even a bakehouse have been added, but the classics remain the biggest draw.
“People do buy online. But I think it is still tied to Punjab, more so Jalandhar where the brand was launched,” he says, adding that buying sweets where they’re made adds something delivery can’t. “It’s like a tradition. When you visit Jalandhar, you have to take back a box of Lovely Sweets.”
That feeling isn’t limited to people who buy regional snacks; even those who make it recognise it. Natasha Yadav, founder of Kerala-based snack brand Malabar Se, remembers travelling to Gwalior with her husband as much for Bahadura Sweets’ boondi ke ladoo as for the city’s famous fort. “I can still remember the taste, the feeling of eating it in that tiny sweet shop with its sights, smells, and stories,” she says.
Online ordering cannot deliver that sense of place, says Yadav. “It’s what they say—that the pani (water) and haath (hand) make a difference to how a dish turns out. When that happens, the taste is unmatched.”
Travellers seem to agree. Bengaluru-based IT professional Rohini Kulkarni doesn’t mind a detour or two to get her foodie fix. Trips to Pune mean Shrewsbury biscuits from Kayani Bakery, and a drive back via Mumbai necessitates a stop in Lonavala for chikki.
Those detours are becoming more intentional. A Hilton 2026 report, The Whycation: Travel’s New Starting Point, on travel trends reveals that 77% of travellers enjoy exploring local grocery stores as a way to experience a destination more authentically. The rise of “supermarket tourism” offers the chance to know a place through local ingredients, snacks, and pantry staples.
E-commerce may have made it easier than ever to buy regional food yet we still travel for it. Because Lonavala chikki and khaja (sweet pastry) from Surat can be delivered almost anywhere, but the place, the people and the memories that give them meaning simply cannot.
Teja Lele writes on travel and lifestyle.