Care for some Chai-Nashta?

With Kashmiri kehwa

In our beautiful distressed valley of Kashmir, it's the chai that's mithi or namkeen (tea is boiled in water till it turns red, some milk and salt are added, making it pink), while the nashta is bland. Though the morning routine involves having roti with namkeen chai, it's also about thronging local kandurs (bakeries), which open by 4am, to take back baskets full of goodies—chochworu (burger or bagel-like hard buns prepared with skimmed milk, water and maida), katlams, lavaas and the multilayered, ghee-laden bakerkhwanis to go with the afternoon and evening sessions of tea or kehwa. While saffron kehwa, made of water, sugar and saffron strands is more popular, chai kehwa, to which cinnamon and almonds are added, is equally delicious. On holidays that's what I do, laze and have tea and bakes through the day. On special occassions it's a separate set of bakes to go with tea.
—Anees Zagar

Bengali bhaja-bhuji

Not everyone in Bengal may share the prime minister's political ideology, but we've long shared his weakness for "chai" and "charcha". Cha aar adda, if you would—aimless banter brewing into stormy debates over politics, arts, theology, accompanied by an army of bhaja-bhuji (fried titbits) paraded out of the rannaghor (kitchen) to their pride of place inside one's mouth.

Living alone, I sorely miss jhal muri—a fiery mix of puffed rice tossed in light mustard oil, green chillies, chanachur and other optional additions of cucumber, sprouted black gram or coriander. It isn't unusual for the matriarch to bring together father-daughter-granny-house help over chai and an overflowing bowl of the mix on rainy Sundays or even the odd impersonal Wednesday. Every time a viral would dumb down my taste-buds, I would pine for a bati full of jhal muri. I still do.

Some snacks though, refuse to be shared. One in every five Bengalis you meet is an adult who has, at some point in life, drilled out and licked clean the stuffing from his beautiful phulkopir shingara (samosa stuffed with stir-fried potato and cauliflower, punctuated with nigella seeds) and eyed one on a sibling's plate—to be shot down mercilessly. I, for one, would offer you a bite of my gorgeous-greasy beguni (eggplant fritter) only if you've saved my life at least a couple of times before. Same goes for the kumro phool bhaja, peyaji and phuluri (pumpkin-blossom tempura, onion fritter and fluffy besan nuggets).

If you've figured out what a dance of flavours Bengali tea-snack is, you might want to give your Bengali co-worker/neighbour that family doctor's contact. Chances are, he'll be grateful for an anti-acidity prescription more efficient than his favourite Dygene. As for you, you'd be feasting on mochar chop (banana-flower patties) or jumbo fowl cutlets as soon as he recovers. We do share sometimes, see?
—Sohini Das Gupta
 

Odiya jalakhia

Evenings often remind me of the sweet, earthy nadia muri (puffed rice with grated coconut) that I would tuck into my mouth in generous bulks as the rain drummed against our window back home. And it's best enjoyed with cups—the plurality is of great significance here—of steaming cha. For those who like their jalakhia (snack) fried and spicy, aloo chop (potato croquette) will leave you licking your fingers. Whether smuggled home from roadside stalls (not the most healthiest of snacks, you see) or fried in a family-size karahi at home, this fairly easy-to-make snack is basically mashed potato (spiced with turmeric powder, red chilli powder, salt and garam masala) deep-fried in besan. To watch the besan splutter and take shape in the oil, a warm golden at first, and then blushing in delectable shades of brown, is an aesthetic delight in itself. Sev ..tumbler of tea, sit inside and keep scooping it out and eating
—Uday Naik

Punjab de poore

'Garam samose aur chai' is just another stereotype of Punjabi snacking habits. We have our gur ke mithe poore (thin chilla type crepes made of a fermented batter of jaggery, saunf, atta and milk), giant size mathris with aam ka kala achar or in winter shalgam-gobi ka achar (turnip-cauliflower pickle), sugar-coated shakkar pare or pepper spiced namkeen pare. In fact during weddings we give guests a box full of pare to munch on with tea. For those with a sweet tooth, especially in the cold months, there's nothing like energy-loaded pinnis (laddoos made of atta mixed with bran, sooji, cinnamon, little adhrakh, ghee and pepper) that you'll find on counter tops of most kitchens. But a special tea-time treat is the nut-crusted desi gur that friends having ganne ke khet make at home and send over. As jaggery-making reaches its last stage pista, kaju and even dry fruits are added. As no tempering is done, it doesn't have the sheen of chikki, but is pure, raw and absolutely delicious.
—Amrita Kaur

Assamese jolpan

When I was a kid, evening tea often felt like a mini party. Neighbours and relatives would stream in to join our big joint family gorging on pithas (coconut, jaggery, roasted rice and black sesame laddoos), luchi (poori) with aloo dum or bhaji (sabzi of long potato slices, sprinkled with haldi and green chillies and fried in mustard oil), and the occasional seera (sweet of poha, milk and jaggery), while sipping on fragrant Ahomiya saah (Assamese tea).

Milk and sugar aren't boiled while making the tea leaves, but served separately. In fact on holidays, we'd also hire a CD player and play movies at tea time and get aloo chop from outside. Now near and dear ones make it just once a week rather than daily and few use the traditional, heavy, bell metal crockery, but saah and jolpan (snacks) remain quite the love affair with cups being refilled almost endlessly. It's only befitting given that we're from the tea state of India.
—Joydeepa Sarma

From Rajasthan's rasoi

The desert state of Rajasthan may not be blessed in terms of natural produce, but its culinary treats, largely comprising cereal/grain-based food, is as varied as it is delightful. The famous battis of the dal-batti-churma, made of ordinary wheat flour, are but a mere example. To go with tea, there's the concoction of gule-gule–wheat flour kneaded with water and grated jaggery, which gives the dough a shiny and somewhat sticky consistency, and then rolled into bite-sized balls and deep fried to a brown hue. Atte ka seera is popular too and is eaten with papad for a sweet-savoury balance.

Use of besan (gram flour) to make pakodis (fried batter) is also common. Each spinach leaf is dipped in batter (made by adding water, salt, red chilli and turmeric powder to gram flour) and fried. A perennial favourite is the bada or dal ki pakodi—split green gram is soaked and peeled off its green cover, then blitzed with roasted coriander seeds, fennel, asafoetida, salt and water to form a thick batter (urban dwellers also add green chillies and ginger) and deep fried in tiny portions till golden-yellow. Served hot, these are perfect pairings for a late afternoon cuppa!
—Marisha Karwa

Sweet from Sindh 

The Sindhis, who migrated from across the border of Rajasthan, favour food that is fried. So anything from vegetables to even breads become conduits for 'pakoda' and fries. I've grown up on lunch boxes of bread rolls, bread pakoda, aloo-tikki and mithi-bread — the last one being an indulgence of my childhood days (much to my adulthood horror). To make it, slices of bread are fried till they turn crispy brown and then dipped in chashni or sugar syrup. Served hot, my brother and I would devour this artery-clogging agent with condensed milk! Other tea-time snacks that would come out of mom's frying pan included potato pakodas, mirchi pakodas and sana pakodas (literally meaning thin, and called for the finely chopped onions used). Besides onions, coriander seeds, chillies and salt are added to gram flour and water; portions of the batter are semi-fried, broken into halves or smaller portions and fried again. Accompanied with green chutney, these are rainy day treats!
—Marisha Karwa

Maharashtrian wadis and vadas 

Be it vegetarian or non vegetarian, we want our food to be just right—just the right sweet, sour, spicy and fried. I remember snack boxes full of a variety of flavours and textures we'd wait to open at tea time. My favourite (but not popular among most) was kothimbir wadi. Chopped kothimbir (coriander), green chillies, salt, turmeric and red chilli powder beaten into a batter of gram flour and water, steam cooked and then shallow fried; had with adrakwali chai, it's a perfect monsoon treat. Maharashtrian snacks wouldn't be complete without mention of sabudana vada. You would have savoured it at restaurants offering 'typical' Maharastrian cuisine, but freshly home-cooked ones with green chilli and peanut chutney. There's no curry patta or red chilli powder that you find outside, just a simple mix of potatoes, sabudana, jeera, green chilli and peanuts. Sometimes it's also made with sweet potato. From sweet crunchy shankarpalis, to savoury bhajnichi chakli (made of flour of roasted chana dal, moong dal, urad dal, sabudana and rice, and sometimes even methi seeds) and sweet-tangy aru wadis (similar to Gujju patras, but we fry it after steaming)—all continue to be favourites snacks enjoyed with tea in most Maharastrian homes.
–Gauri Rane

Gujarati nashto

Steamed, roasted, fried...sweet, spicy, savoury...you name it, the Gujarati nashto eaten with masala cha has it all. Everytime mom fills big barnis (glass jars) of tikkhi puri or tikkha sakkar para, my resolve to stick to fruit for breakfast or nuts for evening snack goes for a toss. I crack the crust of the puris and paras, like you'd do for pani puri, scoop hot tea in it and oomm, it's heavenly. Whereas, especially with morning tea, my grand parents would break pieces of bhakri and khakhra or eat handfuls of papdi gaathiya and sev mumra (puffed rice) as they slurped on the tea after it cooled in the saucer. On special occasions it's papdi gaathia with hot jalebis and in winters it's dadi's special deep fried sam/bajri vadas (bajra atta mixed with garlic, chopped methi leaves, sugar, curd, red chilli, salt, dhaniya powder and oil). Vadas though can be of many kinds, dense with a mix of white sesame seeds and wheat flour or hollow inside like puris. The fried list would range from dals on their own to mixes like chavanu (fried channa dal, moong dal, sev gaanthia, papdi gaanthia, vatana and dal muth) and Nadiyadi bhusu (fried poha, corn flakes, chickpea, peanuts, sev). Then there are chevdas aka chivda that can be roasted or fried (our village Patan is famed for sweet and spicy fried salli potato and peanut one) and a must try is the one with poha, papad and sev. Steamed offerings include bafelu uthia (simply plain flour added to boiled water, with jeera, salt and green chilli paste), dhoklas and muthias made of rice or various lentils...the list of Gujarati tea snacks is never ending. No wonder people think we live to eat.
—Pooja Bhula

Kerala

In parts of Kerala, we wake up to black tea—that becomes a 'sulaimani' with a dash of lemon—and for breakfast around 8-9am it's simple milk tea with ginger or cardamom. Piping hot it's had with appams and vegetable stew, idlis or puttu (steamed cylindrical snack made of rice flour and coconut) accompanied by papad, banana, honey, or even kadala (channa) curry as per one's preference.

But evening tea with sughiyan—the cardamom-spiced, sweet besan-coated pakodas of moong dal, jaggery, coconut and atta—holds a special place in my memory. Dad introduced me to it on my first trip to one of the local tea shops, which abound in every neighbourhood. As I only visit every few months, staff at tea shops can easily tell I'm an outsider, but usually know what their regulars want. You can also get parippu (dal) vada, uzhunnu (medu) vadas, neyyappam (fluffy and fried, rice flour and gur snack) or achappams (rose cookies). Around 4.30 pm, tea shops are abuzz with college kids and office-goers, devouring the treats or reading the newspaper.

At homes you'll find people munching ariyunda (jaggery, coconut and rice flake ladoos) and nenthrakai bananas batter-fried. In her childhood, mom would return from school to chakka or kappa puzhuku (jackfruit or tapioca in sabzi-like preparations) eaten with leftover fish or meat curry and tea. But now it's a less frequent affair like various home snacks conveniently available in the market.
—Meryl Sebastian

Coordinated by Pooja Bhula