How Indigenous Ingredients Found in the Wild Inspire Chef Radhika Khandelwal’s Food

Chef Radhika Khandelwal identifies as a matchmaker. In the kitchen. Between ingredients. 

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Take, for instance, that time she married a zesty ponzu (citrus-based sauce popular in Japanese cuisine) with sea buckthorn. The latter’s boldness was balanced by the former’s tanginess. But the true magic lay in the after-party of the dish. Radhika served the mixture with Naga smoked pork and chilli-glazed Ladakhi prawn. 

Intrepidity defines her stints in the kitchen, but a conversation with the chef-owner of Trouble Trouble at Fig & Maple, a Delhi-based restaurant, suggests that the kitchen isn’t the only space where she pushes the envelope. The foraging process for ingredients is an equal adventure. 

Her hunt for tsermang (sea buckthorn in local dialect) — the berry thrives in high altitudes and arid conditions — led her to Ladakh’s Nubra Valley. Recalling the day, Radhika shares, “It takes around three to four people to shake the bush, and then stand under it with chaddars (blankets) to collect the falling berries. They’re very delicate, and so you want to be careful.” Once they’d collected around 10 kg of the fruit, which found its way into large bags, the group headed to the Ladakhi market to purchase large jars into which the jams made of the berries would go. 

The outcome was a feast. 

That’s Radhika for you. Her menus have always been hinged on eclectic cuisine, while paving the way for the most unlikely of ingredients. She has a knack for getting them to exchange pleasantries with each other in a way that few can. 

Homages to the classics 

Local, sustainable and seasonal. These are three pillars that form Radhika’s culinary ethos. At Trouble Trouble at Fig & Maple, these ideals translate into a farm-to-fork, zero-waste approach.

Ask her where she gets her culinary intuition from, and she credits her years spent in Australian kitchens. While pursuing a degree in psychology, Radhika apprenticed in kitchens, first as a server, then as a chef. 

The phase left an imprint on his culinary psyche. “I could have never guessed that I was going to do something in cooking. I just knew I was going to do something creative,” she shares. And her platters, that are part art and part flavour, nod in agreement. It is a mission accomplished. 

The pan is her canvas. With every one of her dishes, she manages to achieve a delicacy in flavour and design. 

And when a guest points this out, her face lights up. 

“I always wondered to myself, when there is so much flavour in the world, why are we not tapping into it. That’s where my obsession with ingredients lies. I’m constantly chasing flavour. While thinking of a dish, I may think about salt, fat, acid and heat, but I’m also thinking about umami, sweet, sour and spice.” 

The attempt is always to open a dialogue between contrasting flavour profiles. 

“I once created a beetroot and chocolate shake with 70 percent dark chocolate and then sprinkled salt into it. It was too good.” This knack of cobbling together essences bravely is something she credits her mother for. 

She explains, “Growing up, the one vegetable I hated was tori(ridge gourd) but my mother would find a way to blend it into a fish cutlet such that we would never guess it was in there. Eventually, consuming torijust became amazing.” 

But beyond bravado, these experiences taught her the significance of mastering local flavour profiles. 

Toying with indigenous ingredients 

Of what use is a vegetable peel? 

To Radhika, it's the tightrope along which a perfect dish treads. She recalls observing something fascinating while in Australia. 

“To counter the wastage of huge amounts of imperfect fruits and vegetables being discarded, Australian supermarkets started this thing where ‘ugly’ produce was sold at a discounted rate. This made me deep dive into the world of food waste. And that shaped who I am as a chef now.” 

Chef Radhika represents India at the Chefs Manifesto, an organisation of the United Nations’ SDG2 (Zero Hunger). As a global voice for sustainable gastronomy, she promotes zero-waste techniques and native grains. 

Her love for indigenous ingredients was compounded by a realisation that these actually benefited local economies and the environment. Today, she champions these lessons in her kitchen. 

Take, for instance, the ‘skinny chippin’. “We make chips out of all sorts of vegetable peels and serve these with a dip that features cauliflower stems that are deep-roasted, caramelised and pureed. That’s one of our bestsellers, which also puts into perspective how food waste is actually edible.”

Her gastronomic pursuits are directed towards showcasing new and lesser-known biodiverse flavours. And here’s where she relies on indigenous vegetables and fruits to work their magic. 

One of her favourites is the monsoon vegetable takla. “While passing through Sawantwadi on my way to Goa, I saw this woman who was picking wild leaves off the road. When we stopped the car and asked her what she was picking, she gave us the half-basket in her hand. Back at the restaurant, we started using it in multiple dishes.” Think of a flavour profile similar to fenugreek but with citrusy notes, Radhika encourages. That’s takla. 

The seasons find their way into Radhika’s feasts. The menu at Trouble Trouble at Fig & Maple is constantly evolving. 

“There is only one rule that the menu needs to keep changing,” she admits, adding that “you can’t fight with nature.” To this end, Radhika works with farmers across India to source native and rare fruits and vegetables. 

Talking about another one of her interesting finds, Radhika says, she was introduced to kaane dhaniyaeight years ago when a friend from Guwahati handed her a bunch of jagged leaves and urged her to smell them. 

“It was a pungent smell. I learnt that the leaves are used in tribal communities across the Northeast in chutneys, smoked pork stews; they add a bold, earthy note to the dish and won’t play second fiddle to anything,” Radhika shares. At Trouble Trouble at Fig & Maple, it’s the thecha (a spicy Maharashtrian condiment traditionally made with green chillies, garlic, and coriander) in which the ingredient features. 

One of the stories she loves sharing is how she stumbled upon bopool(the flower of the hummingbird tree). “While in Tijara, Rajasthan, we made a stop at a local home, and that’s where I got to know about the flower. We ate it in its fried form. At the restaurant, we filled it with blue cheese, and we made a fritter out of it.” 

Then there’s the cane fruit. It grows on rattanpalm tree, and visually resembles a cross between a lychee and snake fruit. “Tastes like sour punk,” is how Radhika describes it. 

She’s found great success by blending it into their ceviche. "The fruit's tangy essence adds an unexpected and delightful dimension to the dish.” As she learnt, the fruit is foraged by women and children in indigenous communities in areas where cane furniture is popular. 

While foraging in the wild leads her to her best finds, Radhika has a simple rule: you only take how much you need; you don't take more than that. “Remember, you're taking from the land, what you’re picking was contributing back to the land. You can’t kill biodiversity in the process of greed.” 

Through her menus, this chef is bringing indigenous ingredients out from the shadows of being and giving them their moment in the sun. 

All pictures courtesy Radhika Khandelwal