Indian Chef makes a mark at Tasmania's Winter Feast

The Hindu

11-07-2025

Amid the chaos of Mumbai, Niyati Rao first learned the language of flavour — not as a technique, but as a form of listening to her surroundings, to memory, and the hush of ingredients coming to life. Growing up in a city alive with sound, scent, and stories, Niyati's journey started well before she wore a chef's coat. She had found her rhythm between the sizzle of street food and the slow stews of the home kitchen.
Trained at the Institute of Hotel Management, Mumbai, and shaped by time in some of the exploratory kitchens, such as The Zodiac Grill, Wasabi by Morimoto, The Chambers, and Goa's A Reverie, it was a stint at Copenhagen's Noma where 28-year-old Niyati sharpened her technique and perspective. That clarity found its expression in Ekaa, the ingredient‑first, cuisine‑agnostic restaurant she co-founded in December 2021. In just three years, Ekaa became a place where traditions met invention, where each dish carried a trace of her memories, the kitchens she had been part of, and her many travels. 'Much of my menu is inspired by nostalgia,' she says, 'but just as much comes from the road, from the people and places that reshape how I see food.'
One such place, far from the noise of Mumbai, was Tasmania.
As the first Indian guest chef invited to Tasmania's Dark Mofo Festival, Niyati arrived not just to cook, but to discover new flavours and stories. Held in June, under a sky lit by crimson bulbs and veiled in fog — the 11-day festival is a celebration of fire, mystery, and the elemental.
'It reminded me of Stranger Things,' she laughs. 'It's dark, but there's joy in it. And cooking in that cold, it felt like every food stall was an oasis in a Siberian winter.'
At the Winter Feast — the festival's culinary centrepiece held over eight nights — chefs from around the world cooked amid flames and music, serving thousands. The event featured more than 70 stallholders, including food vendors, chefs, and bars, selected through an application process. Niyati was one of the invited chefs, curated to collaborate with local culinary voices. She teamed up with Australia's Craig Will, Bianca Welsh, and James Welsh of Stillwater, a Launceston-based restaurant.
'There's nothing quite like it,' Niyati says. 'It's not just about food. It's where art, music, ritual, and cuisine are woven together.'
Even while working, music lingered around her, sometimes faint, sometimes striking, changing her rhythm, infusing her cooking with pace and pulse. 'For a chef, it's vital. It shapes how you move, how you feel. And that ends up on the plate.' That rhythm found its way into her creation at the event: long-spined Tasmanian sea urchin served in a spice broth, a mix of Tasmanian produce with Indian technique. 'We were nervous mixing spices from India with something so local, but the result was seamless, even better on the plate than in our heads,' Niyati says.
But what struck her even more was Tasmania's reverence for its land. From Aboriginal traditions to European techniques, the island is a blend of influences, held together by respect. 'It's a melting pot,' she says, 'but every ingredient still has its voice.'
'As a chef, you're always excited and inspired,' she says. 'Because something like this opens up a new doorway.' In Tasmania, that doorway led her beyond the kitchen. She walked bush trails, tasted sea succulents, and watched as the land revealed itself in layers — through herbs once foraged by Aboriginal communities, oysters shucked by the sea, and stories rooted in place and practice.
Niyati also encountered ingredients she hoped to carry into the future. Pepperberries that echo the zing of spices from India's northeast, a soft, fragrant boysenberry jam, native cheeses infused with bush spices, and a triple cream she cannot stop thinking about. She is already imagining how Tasmanian whisky might find its way into Indian desserts — not as a gimmick, but as an evolving thread in a larger conversation.
As she packs her bags to return, there are more than just ingredients in her suitcase. 'We came with empty bags on purpose,' she grins. 'We're going back heavy — with ingredients, ideas, and inspiration.' Her haul includes 'pepperberries that hum with umami, a jar of soft berry jam, bush cheeses and a luscious triple cream, strawberry gum, native dried kunzea herbs and Tasmanian whisky,' she says adding 'just as importantly, the way people cook, listen, and care. All of it comes home with me.'