How cult ingredients are redefining the Indian pantry in 2025
What does it take for an ingredient to leap from novelty to necessity—becoming a cultural marker of taste, aspiration and identity?
For many urban Indians, the pantry of 2025 looks significantly different from what it did a decade ago. What was once a speciality item behind glass display cases or on far-flung travel itineraries now sits, almost casually, alongside masalas and pickles—available at a single tap, yet carrying the weight of global influence. From fermented teas to creamy cheeses, these ingredients speak volumes about who we are and who we want to be.
But the true journey of a “pick-me” ingredient goes far beyond convenience. It’s a tale of seasons honoured and missed, of chefs who court the overlooked, of visual drama that demands a double-tap, and of spirited conversations that linger long after the plate is cleared. These culinary pioneers decode the secret chemistry that elevates a simple element into a symbol of modern Indian taste.
Courtship of the plate
For Chef Niyati Rao of Ekaa and Bombay Daak, choosing an ingredient is a long-term romance. She plans menus months in advance, only to have nature rewrite her script. “Sometimes what I imagine lands up entirely differently on the plate,” she confesses, recalling how December’s two-week-only mogri blossom found new life as an achaar that “stole the show”. At Ekaa, Rao shines the spotlight on hidden regional gems, and at Bombay Daak, she deploys global favourites sparingly—“only when they serve a clear purpose,” she insists. Even a dish built around Spam—the cult tinned meat—gets a thoughtful, Indianised spin that nods to nostalgia while still feeling fresh.
Chef Hussain Shahzad of The Bombay Canteen, Papa’s, O Pedro, and Veronica’s follows a similarly elemental creed: “If it’s in season, grown close to home, and tastes exquisite, it earns its place.” His summer offerings of bottle gourd and ridge gourd give way to jackfruit and bael in winter—each plate a reminder that “seasonality isn’t a philosophy; it’s a pulse.” When produce speaks for itself, Shahzad notes, diners listen—“sometimes even before they taste.”
At Bandra Born, Chef Gresham Fernandes confesses a curator’s dilemma: “With forty ingredients in season at once, I carve out space for those I haven’t used in a while, or for a green I’ve just mastered,” he explains. This conscious rotation ensures freshness, both in produce and perspective.
The visual narrative
In the era of infinite scroll, how an ingredient looks is half the story. At Bandra’s Mokai, founder Karreena Bulchandani has built an Asian-inspired oasis where taro boba teas and mango-matcha concoctions rule the feed. “Our guests aren’t just eating—they’re narrating their lives through our dishes,” she smiles. Her almond-hazelnut butter, conceived as a Nutella rival, surprised even her team by selling out within days of launch. “People want something that feels bespoke yet familiar,” she says, “and when it photographs beautifully, it earns its cult status.”
Indian food expert Rashmi Uday Singh observes that our appetite for cult ingredients is driven as much by perception as by palate. “Social media has reshaped the way we engage with food—it’s about what catches the eye, what gets shared, and what reflects a certain way of life,” she says. Health trends play an equally big role, especially for a generation that equates eating well with looking and feeling good. “That’s why avocado toast is everywhere—from tiny cafés to five-star hotels—it’s constantly reinterpreted to fit local tastes.”
Not far away, Chef Soumojit Sinha at Shelter Café discovered that serendipity can spark cult-like devotion. His Tiramisu French Toast, conceived two years ago, “wasn’t a calculated move—it was nostalgia, innovation, and a dash of surprise all rolled into one.” It vaulted from experiment to signature, drawing diners to both Versova and Carter Road. His Sourdough Poha, similarly, reframes a Maharashtrian staple through a modern lens: “When you hit that sweet spot between novelty and sensibility, people come back for more.”
Global meets local
The most enduring cult ingredients thread international intrigue through local logic. Chef Hussain explains, “Burrata works here because it channels India’s love affair with fresh dairy—think creamy paneer or malai,” he muses. At O Pedro, his Burrata and Avocado Poee Sandwich marries burrata with Goan foogath and moringa chutney, proving that imported specialities can flourish when deeply rooted in local culinary logic. “When quality meets context, an ingredient transcends its origins,” he notes.
Chef Gresham adds, “Every import must earn its place by conversing with our produce.” Only when a domestic ingredient can’t deliver the desired depth does he look abroad: flying in truffles to lend a faint umami veil or sourcing avocados from Mexico when local harvests aren’t at their prime. Ensuring that the flavours of the world serve to elevate, rather than eclipse, India’s rich culinary tapestry.
Even truffle oil—often critiqued for not being ‘authentic’—has cemented its place on the menu. “Not many people are aware, truffle oil is not the real thing,” Singh explains. “Still, truffle has got the gourmet status, so it carries over to truffle oil.” Her point isn’t criticism—it’s context: the ingredient has earned symbolic value, and for diners, it evokes luxury and flavour, even in small doses.
Less is more
Amid the glimmer of high-profile imports, a quieter movement champions the unvarnished beauty of home-grown fare. At Ekaa, Chef Niyati consciously omits ubiquitous oils and cheeses to spotlight overlooked bounty. “Novelty can work for a while,” she warns, “but in the end, how one uses those ingredients—and how the food tastes—brings people back.”
Yet running a kitchen is also a business. As Chef Gresham points out, chefs must balance creative integrity with commercial viability—sustainable ingredients and seasonal menus are vital, but so is staying nimble when diner demands shift.
Even the café world is finding new forms of co-creation. Natasha Hemani of Blondie credits her “Blondie Backstage” WhatsApp community for co-shaping hits like their s’mores matcha. “Our audience didn’t just follow us, they were on this journey with us,” she reflects.
The rise of cult ingredients in India is neither accidental nor superficial. It is the product of chefs who court each produce with care, cafés that sculpt visual stories, and diners who seek both novelty and authenticity—often with a single touch. Looking ahead, the next wave of cult ingredients will likely emerge from this same interplay of local provenance, global inspiration and cultural dialogue—proof that the lifecycle of crave is never truly complete.
Whether it’s a fleeting seasonal blossom or a perennial favourite reborn, the ingredients that endure are those that transcend novelty to become entwined with our values, our memories and our ever-evolving sense of self. In that transformation lies the true power of the cult of crave.
Lead image: Mokai
Also read: How classic Indian summer staples are getting a gourmet makeover
