On a research trip to Bolpur in West Bengal earlier in May, the Sienna Calcutta restaurant team stumbled upon kulthi/kulith (Macrotyloma uniflorum) or horsegram at the weekly market. The pulse may be commonly eaten in other parts of the country, but is practically unheard of in the Bengali kitchen, albeit is a staple food among the indigenous Santhal communities of Birbhum district. While in Namkhana, a fishing harbour in South 24 Parganas, the chefs came across bok maach, a species of gar fish widely considered as by-catch, that rarely makes it to Kolkata’s affluent markets. The experiences took them down a rabbit hole, nudging them with possibilities, and an urge to change the course of Bengali cuisine in modern Indian dining. As for some of the ingredients, both kulthi and bok maach have now found their place at an eight-seater intimate chef’s table experience titled Rannaghor (Bengali for kitchen) at the restaurant.
Sienna, located in a century-old home in Hindustan Park, opened in 2015 as an arts and textiles store cum cafe. Over the years, it has come to be known for its bold riffs on Bengali food. While the menus reflect a culinary culture deeply influenced by seasons, terroir and the partition of Bengal, the neighbourhood bajaar or market continues to provide inspiration to transform everyday items like shaak (leafy greens), maach (fish) and bhaat (rice) into aiolis, bar snacks and risottos. The 13-course tasting menu that debuted last month is a step forward in showcasing the socio-economic factors that shape the cuisine.
“The whole idea is to have a conversation around Bengali food beyond the usual kosha mangsho and chingri malaikari. Although our food culture is largely dictated by what is popular in Kolkata, the reality is different when we step out of the city. The fact that there are so many regional differences within the state is what makes us curious,” says head chef Avinandan Kundu, who honed his cooking chops in Paris and Denmark before moving back to the city of his birth in 2019. For the team, the Bolpur trip offered a newfound opportunity. The characteristic flavour preferences of the locals, the choice of ingredients and style of tempering dishes, and how each of these vary depending on the social hierarchy were enough to get them brainstorming. “Something as basic as a squeeze of lime over ghee-rice, or an aversion for a particular dal among certain classes of people, were all very new for us,” he says.
The meal starts with ucchey-ol (bitter gourd and elephant foot yam), a course that almost feels like it is dedicated to Bengali mothers who persuade their children to eat bitter vegetables. Only here the yam is turned into a textural foam with Bandel cheese. The kulthi is cooked with the aromatic chinekamini rice into a crisp cube. The bok maach is slit open using the butterfly technique, chargilled and served with an umami sauce made of masoor dal, fish heads and fermented chilli. There’s offal, made of mutton off-cuts and served as a nugget on a stick topped with meat shavings mimicking Parmesan cheese. And finally, a superlative risotto cooked rezala-style, a nod to the Bengali Sunday mutton curry. But the pièce de résistance is the everyday carp katla cured to replicate a pork belly, skin intact and crackling.
The dessert course, mishti-r dokaan, is a hat tip to the ubiquitous neighbourhood sweet shop, except there is no roshogolla or sondesh. Instead an assortment of malpua, shor bhaja (layers of thickened milk), monohara (sugar-coated sweet) and potol-er mishti (pointed gourd filled with khoya) make an appearance with a filling of cherry compote here, or Kalimpong cheese and honey custard there. It’s an experience of a Bengal that’s as diverse and unique as its mishti.