25-07-2025
In search of heat: A journey through India's most iconic chillies
A decade or so ago, I visited Shillong with my mother. One of the lasting memories from that trip is of waking up to the serene waters of Bara Pani, or Umiam Lake. Locals warned us against swimming there, saying the water 'claims lives.' But the other memory from that trip is far warmer, quite literally. I had taken my mother to a local market, wandering through wet lanes, slush and crowds, determined to find something specific: the chillies the region is famous for.
Small, fat, and coloured in reds and greens, these chillies pack intense heat and are incredibly flavoursome, if you can handle them. I remember Khasi women in traditional attire sitting with small mounds of chillies in front of them, priced at rates that would make any spice-lover smile.
Northeastern chillies are a food group in themselves, known for their complex flavours and searing spice. The Naga Bhut Jolokia, also known as Ghost Chili or Raja Mircha, reigns supreme. You can even find it fresh in certain markets in Delhi now. The 'Bhut' in Bhut Jolokia doesn't mean ghost, as widely assumed. It actually refers to 'Bhot' or Bhutan in Assamese usage. But when you're gasping for air after biting into one, fresh or dried, names hardly matter.
I enjoy a little heat in my food, and if you're chasing the same, then Raja Mircha is your perfect match.
Once ranked the world's hottest chilli, Raja Mircha now holds the fourth position on the Scoville scale, a measure of capsaicinoid concentration, which determines how hot a chilli is. Today, it ranks behind the Carolina Reaper, the Trinidad Scorpion, and Pepper X. Still, it's more than fiery enough to test the strongest palates. The northeast of India is home to many such chilli varieties. There's the dalle khursani from Sikkim, the kon jolokia from Assam, and the Sirarakhong chilli, also called Hathei, from Manipur. Each has its loyal fan base.
But it's not all about heat. India grows more than a hundred commercial varieties of chillies, each with unique taste, aroma and use. I remember once walking through The Raj, an Indian department-style food store in Brighton, United Kingdom, of all places, and being stunned by the sheer number of dried and fresh Indian chillies on offer. Some of my favourites come from Bengal, Kashmir and Rajasthan.
Few people outside Bengal know about the dhani lonka, a short, squat, plump green chilli that's like a stouter cousin of the bird's eye chilli. It's spicier than the standard hari mirch used in most kitchens and has a wonderful flavour. There's also the iconic Kashmiri dried red chilli, large – often the size of a small palm – with little to no heat but rich in colour and aroma. It's what gives dishes like rogan josh and rishta their signature hue.
Another favourite of mine is the dried Mathania chilli from Rajasthan. Low on spice but full of earthy depth, it's usually soaked in water and softened before being added to curries, imparting a beautiful red tone and mild kick.
Another lesser-known but flavourful variety is the yellow chilli powder sold in the street food stalls of Old Delhi. Grown in Himachal Pradesh, this yellow chilli adds flavour – not colour or heat – making it an ideal spice for those who enjoy complexity without the burn.
In Andhra cuisine, dried, stuffed red chillies are often crushed over curd rice or mixed into dals. Andhra Pradesh is, in fact, the chilli capital of India. The state contributes over 50 per cent of India's domestic chilli production and accounts for 60–70 per cent of total exports. Guntur, the largest chilli-producing region, is a name spice lovers will be familiar with. Chillies from this region are used not only in cooking but also in making podi (spice powders) and chutneys.
There's a common, if slightly romantic, myth that people in hot regions consume more chillies to make themselves sweat, which in turn helps cool the body. A similar theory explains why hot tea is popular in scorching climates. Whether or not there's any scientific merit to that, it certainly makes for a fun anecdote.
What's even more interesting is that chillies, now an integral part of Indian cuisine, aren't actually native to the subcontinent.
We may have to thank Mr Vasco da Gama for spicing up our kitchens. When the Portuguese explorer arrived in Calicut in 1498, he departed with ships full of black pepper, a prized commodity in Europe. By 1530, the Portuguese had established their headquarters in Goa. They controlled much of the spice trade, and more than half their revenue during that era came from black pepper and gold, with pepper being the more dominant of the two.
It's widely believed that the Portuguese brought chillies to India via their colonial networks, possibly from Brazil via Lisbon. By the 1530s, at least three varieties of chilli plants had taken root in Goa. In fact, the chillies were so associated with their point of entry that they were nicknamed 'Pernambuco pepper' in Goa and 'Gowai mirchi' in Bombay.
Chillies reached North India much later, not until the 18th century. Some historians suggest the Marathas were responsible for introducing chillies to Delhi while fighting to weaken Mughal control. Legend has it that their love for spice matched their valour, and perhaps, their fire on the battlefield was fuelled by the fire in their food.
A true culinary trail of India's chillies would take years to complete, not just because of the distances, but also because your taste buds and stomach might need frequent breaks. Still, it's an idea worth exploring someday.
Here is my recipe for Pork Raja Mircha. It uses no oil, and is definitely not for the faint-hearted. You could replace the pork with chicken, but the flavour will change. Do try it.
· Pork 1 kg with meat and fat, cut into small chunks
· Garlic crushed: 1 ½ tablespoons
· Ginger: 1 ½ tablespoons
· Salt to taste
· One raja mircha fresh or smoked and dried
· Tomatoes 400 gms pureed
Serves 4
Preparation: Wash the pork and soak it in 2 tbsps of white vinegar. Puree the tomatoes and keep aside along with crushed garlic and ginger.
Put the pork along with the vinegar in a thick bottomed pan, add salt to taste, add half a glass of water and let it cook until half done. I also chopped some potatoes and added it to the pork while it was boiling. But you can leave it out if you want. Then add the tomato puree, ginger and garlic and let the pork cook until tender. When it is almost done, add the raja chilli and stir until the pork is cooked and tender. The curry will be a bright red thick gravy. This tastes perfect with steamed rice. Enjoy.
Next week, I'll write on rice – but healthy, gut-friendly Paanta Bhaat, Pakala Bhaat, Congee and other probiotic preparations which are perfect for summer.
Author of The Sweet Kitchen, and chef-owner of Food For Thought Catering ... Read More
