Paanta bhaat to pazhamkanji: How India's humble fermented rice is becoming a global health superfood

Indian Express

01-08-2025

What the world is raving about today – especially health-conscious eaters and nutrition influencers – India has been eating for centuries. Fermented foods are having their moment, appearing on high-end restaurant menus and being recommended by dieticians and nutritionists. But in many Indian homes, these dishes were always there, nourishing generations.
When I was around seven or eight, I was always curious about the food our household staff cooked for themselves. Our home was known for its abundance –– lavish Bengali and international meals were served daily. But if we had five dishes on the table, the staff often had eight cooking away in the kitchen. They needed the energy, and their food, I felt, always felt richer, spicier, and somehow more satisfying.
I often spent my mornings perched on a low wooden stool in the kitchen, dipping bread into strong, sugary tea. The fish curry made for the staff, far bolder than ours, was usually shared with me. But there was one dish I always avoided: paanta bhaat.
Today, this dish is a gourmet novelty. Back then, it was something we wrinkled our noses at. Leftover rice from the night before, soaked overnight in water and eaten the next day with chillies, fried neem leaves, vegetables – or if you were lucky, some fried fish roe. Paanta bhaat was seen as peasant food in Bengal. It wasn't served to guests, and certainly not to us. Why eat fermented rice water when there was lobster thermidor being made in the same house? Made no sense.
This was until the day a Punjabi vegetarian school friend, who loved hanging around the kitchen with me, asked to try the paanta bhaat, one of the helpers was eating. She was blown away. After that, it became her go-to meal whenever she visited, served with chillies, lime, fried potatoes and cauliflower, a spoonful of ghee, and a pinch of salt. Thanks to her, my East Bengali mother and grandmother soon started eating it too.
In Bengal, paanta bhaat remains common in rural households and working-class kitchens. But like catfish or small fish, which I love, it's often considered déclassé by the urban Bengali palate. Now, however, it seems the dish's time has come.
And it's not just Bengal, and not just paanta bhaat.
In Odisha, there's pakhala, a similar dish made by soaking leftover rice overnight in an earthen pot. The next morning, it's often mixed with curd and tempered with mustard seeds, curry leaves, and dried red chillies. It's served with mashed potatoes, sautéed greens, or fried fish. Known as the 'poor man's gruel,' pakhala has deep roots; its earliest known mention dates back to the 12th century, when it was offered to Lord Jagannath in Puri.
Down south in Kerala, there's pazhamkanji, which translates to 'old kanji' (rice gruel), which was once a breakfast staple and is now being rediscovered as one of the most nutritious dishes you can have. It's made by soaking leftover rice overnight in room-temperature water. By morning, fermentation sets in, enhancing the nutritional value. It's usually eaten with kanthari chilli (the equivalent of bird's eye chilli in Kerala), thick curd, and salt.
None of these dishes require great cooking skills or ingredients – mix leftover rice with water, add chopped onion or green chilli, curd if you like, and let it sit overnight in an earthen pot. In the morning, serve it with mango chutney, fish curry, or even boiled tapioca.
In Thiruvananthapuram, pazhamkanji is served with palm jaggery. In parts of north Kerala, people who do hard manual labour start their day with thekanji, a version of the same dish where the previous day's rice gruel is boiled, stored in hanging clay pots, and then mixed with dal or gram and gingelly oil in the morning. It's believed to provide strength and stamina for the day ahead.
Almost every region has its own twist on the dish, often in the form of unique accompaniments. Chutneys made with tamarind, chilli, coconut, or ginger are common. In central Travancore, they mix boiled yams or tapioca into the rice. Often, fried fish is also served with fermented rice. Sometimes, even a ripe mango is stirred in.
These dishes were born out of necessity. Before refrigeration, women in the house simply added water to leftover rice to prevent it from spoiling. It was usually the men who ate it in the morning before heading out to work in the fields. Beyond frugality, though, these meals came with functional wisdom.
Fermented rice and its water have cooling properties and aid digestion. The slightly sour water is probiotic-rich, loaded with lactic acid bacteria, which help protect the gut and boost metabolism. It also contains short-chain fatty acids with anti-inflammatory benefits and vitamin K, which speed up healing. Farmers in Kerala are said to consume up to two litres of this fermented water daily – it keeps them cool and energised under the harsh sun.
Even in China, there's jiu niang, sweet fermented rice or rice wine. Made by fermenting sticky rice with a distiller's yeast, it's traditionally given to children to 'warm the body' and aid blood circulation. Modern research suggests it offers benefits similar to yoghurt, but without the dairy, making it ideal for vegans and the lactose-intolerant.
Even plain rice porridge – conjee – as it's called in many parts of South and Southeast Asia, is being reappraised. Simmered with excess water or bone broth, it's easy on the stomach, energising, and full of gut-friendly properties.
What always amuses me is how much of our traditional food, once dismissed as basic or even backwards, is now being repackaged as 'functional' or 'medicinal'. Whether it's paanta bhaat, pakhala, Pazhankanji, or conjee, these humble, frugal dishes are finally getting the spotlight they deserve. Sometimes, it just takes a fancy label to remind us of what our ancestors already knew.
Author of The Sweet Kitchen, and chef-owner of Food For Thought Catering ... Read More