For someone who has been writing on food for over 20 years, it is rather tough to come across an ingredient that is novel or exciting. But one ingredient got me excited last month is mahua flowers. It’s not like I got a chance to roam around the forests of Jharkhand or Chhattisgarh. Edible-grade dried mahua flowers are now available in sealed packets, collected straight from the forests. This is one level above farm to plate. It is forest to plate. The beauty of the internet, online marketplaces and brands is that they have brought forest produce to our doorstep.
I opened the packet expecting something vaguely floral. What I got looked like a shrivelled raisin, but it tasted far more complex than that one-note sweetness. It was deep and honeyed, with a hint of dates, and the chewy texture made it fun to nibble on as a snack. Then, as always, along with thinking about ways to use it, I found myself wondering where it came from.
A little online foraging revealed that the mahua tree is the quiet elder of the forests of central India. The Gonds, Santhals and Mundas call it the tree of life, and they aren’t just being poetic. They eat the flowers, cook the fruit, press the seeds for oil, and use the leaves and wood at home. In spring, the tree sheds its flowers through the night, and entire villages are out at dawn to pick them up. It is the indigenous people’s equivalent of the first mango of the season, a harvest that sets the rhythm of the year. In the droughts of the 19th century, these flowers kept whole families alive when grain ran out.
And yes, they also make excellent liquor. For centuries, brewing mahua at home was about as scandalous as setting dahi. It was simply there at every birth, wedding and funeral.
Enter the British, who had a rare talent for finding a moral crisis. Sometimes it was women wearing saris without blouses or petticoats. More often, it was wherever there was revenue to be made. Home-brewed mahua was cutting into the sales of licensed and imported liquor, so it was declared a menace to public health and morality. The Bombay Abkari Act of 1878 shoved production into government-approved distilleries. The Mhowra Act of 1892 went further and banned even collecting and selling the flowers in the Bombay Presidency. Imagine being told that the flowers falling in your own backyard are contraband. Naturally, people kept drinking. They just did it underground, with fewer flowers and more adulterants. The liquor got worse, which conveniently proved the Raj right.
The remarkable and sad part is how long we held on to that colonial hangover. Mahua stayed stuck in the country liquor box after independence. Maharashtra removed restrictions on tribal communities to collect, store and sell their own flowers only in 2021.
So when I see mahua in a neat packet, I’m looking at more than a clever product. Most collectors still sell to middlemen for a pittance, often ₹20-35 a kilo. Brands working with forest communities are helping clean, food-grade flowers fetch a fairer price. Self-help groups now turn mahua into laddoos, cookies and jams. On the drinks shelf, an Indian brand has been bottling mahua spirit since 2018, and Madhya Pradesh sells Mond, a heritage liquor made by tribal self-help groups.
It is early days, and this alone won’t put much money into the hands that pick the flowers. But the choice is ours. Buy the packet. Read the label. Ask who collected it. And let’s give our heritage flower its due.
CARROT MAHUA KOSUMBARI
Serves 4
Ingredients
Half cup yellow moong dal
2 medium carrots, grated
Quarter cup dried mahua flowers
2 tbsp fresh grated coconut
Half tsp salt
Juice of half a lemon
1-2 tbsp chopped fresh coriander leaves
For the tempering:
2 tsp sunflower oil
Half tsp mustard seeds
1 sprig curry leaves
1 dried red chili, broken into halves
1 small green chilli, sliced
Method
Wash and soak the moong dal in water for 4-5 hours. Drain well and keep aside.
Peel and grate the carrot.
Mix the soaked moong, carrot, mahua flowers, coconut, salt, lemon juice and coriander leaves in a bowl.
In a small pan, heat the oil and add the tempering ingredients. Once the mustard seeds splutter, transfer it over the kosumbari in the bowl. Toss well to combine. Let this sit for 1-2 hours in the fridge before serving.
MAHUA BANANA PANCAKES
Serves 2
Ingredients
Half cup oat flour
Quarter cup rolled oats
1 tsp baking powder
Pinch of salt
Half tsp ground cinnamon
2 tbsp dried mahua flowers
2 tbsp chopped walnuts (optional)
2 tsp brown sugar (optional)
2 small bananas, pureed/mashed
1 egg
2 tsp sunflower oil
2 tsp apple cider vinegar
1-2 tsp ghee or oil to cook pancakes
To serve:
Mahua syrup (or honey)
Method
In a bowl, combine the dry ingredients—oat flour, oats, salt, baking powder, cinnamon, walnuts, mahua flowers and brown sugar. In a small bowl, whisk together pureed banana, egg, 2 tsp oil, apple cider vinegar and milk until well combined. Add the wet ingredients to the dry ingredients and stir gently until combined.
Heat a heavy bottomed pan. Brush with oil or ghee. Ladle the batter to make pancakes. Cook on one side for 1 minute or so on a low-medium flame until bubbles appear along the edges. Flip and cook the other side for 30 seconds until golden brown.
Remove to a plate and serve with mahua syrup or honey.
Double Tested is a column on vegetarian cooking, highlighting a single ingredient prepared two ways. Nandita Iyer (@saffrontrail) is a doctor, wellness advocate and author.