In a quiet corner of Delhi’s otherwise teeming GK-1 N Block Market, is Roots by Rural Mitra. Roots is the café; Rural Mitra, the farm that feeds it. The menu follows the season, shifting with what the soil can sustain and the climate allows. Ingredients shine under the careful supervision of chef-owner Meenakshi Kumar.
The former lawyer found her way back to food through discomfort. After nearly a decade in Thailand, first studying at Le Cordon Bleu in Bangkok and then working with chef Gaggan Anand at his eponymous restaurant in the city, she returned to India in 2019. Once home, the produce felt unfamiliar. “I developed gut inflammation and sensitivities I’d never experienced before,” she says. It made her pause and rethink what she was eating.
She began to grow her own food—spinach, tomatoes, basil and coriander, among others —first in terrace beds at home, with guidance from Edible Routes, a Delhi-based organisation that sets up organic kitchen gardens. The modest success soon moved to an acre of land her father had bought in Noida, now known as Rural Mitra.
The early experiments were as technical as they were humbling. Soil tests at Delhi’s AES Laboratories revealed high sulphur—good for tomatoes and bok choy—but poor nitrogen and organic matter. These findings, though gleaned from a small patch of land, echo a bigger reality.
According to a 2024 FAO (Food and Agriculture Organisation of the United Nations) report, around 32% of India’s land is already degraded, with 25% undergoing desertification due to deforestation, overgrazing and unsustainable farming practices. Healthy soil, rich in microbial life and moisture-holding capacity, is not just a matter of yield; it is the foundation of flavour and nutrition.
“We started feeding the soil with natural manure such as leaf waste and dung. Slowly, it came back to life—it held moisture better and we started spotting earthworms everywhere. That’s when I understood what healthy soil means,” she says.
The food is honest, and comprises “dishes I’ve loved and learned from all over the globe,” says Kumar. There’s grilled chicken breast and spiced Vietnamese bhel, a vegetarian khao suey and a plate of unapologetically loaded nachos. The Tomato and Basil Soup arrives with the seeds in, not sieved, and the tomato tastes more honest for it. The Bajra Poha is a nutty interplay of textures of pearl millet and peanuts. The Indonesian Chicken and Rice stands out for its depth of flavour from the stock, spice and, of course, a steady hand. “Gaggan taught me to break rules fearlessly, but with purpose. That freedom has shaped how I run my café today—with instinct, soul and a little bit of madness,” she says. The pace of the kitchen mirrors this intent. Orders take time as everything is cooked from scratch.
“The farm is lush with winter produce right now,” she says. “You’ll find everything we grow show up in our menu. The pumpkin flowers become fritters, lemongrass is used in tea and in our panna cotta, herbs into different kinds of pesto. Ours is a full-circle story from soil to plate.”
Running a farm-to-table kitchen means befriending unpredictability. A spoiled crop can undo even the most carefully crafted plans, while a sudden glut demands invention. When most professional cooks proved reluctant to work in this rhythm, Kumar began employing women from nearby homes— those who came without the baggage of “restaurant experience” and with the patience to learn. “Women are better,” she says, adding, “they come with an open mind.”
Over time, Kumar’s hiring grew wider. Moved by the sight of trans people seeking alms near red lights, she connected with Kalki Subramaniam of the Sahodari Foundation to bring trans women into training. “It’s also about creating a space where everyone feels seen, safe and respected. Everyone brings their own stories and strengths and that’s what makes a place special,” she adds. And special it is, for the rare mix of people behind the counter, of women learning each step on the job and trans people cultivating a piece of their identity in an entirely new space.
As autumn slides into winter, the menu changes too. “A recipe should follow the land, not the other way around,” says Kumar. In the café, the team, brought together not by conventional resumes but by a shared willingness to learn from each other and from the earth, prepares for another service — their routines as varied and adaptable as the crops themselves.
Damini Ralleigh is a Delhi-based food writer, and co-founder of indicā, a space for gastronomic experiences.