Food You Should Try in India: A Truly Exotic, Authentic Guide
I live high in the Himalayas, where mornings begin with butter tea and a view that keeps you humble. Travel taught me that India isn’t just a country of famous dishes; it’s a mosaic of small kitchens, market fires, and seasonal rituals.
Beyond biryani, dosa, and butter chicken, there’s a quieter table one set by valleys and forests, by grandmothers and gatherers. This guide is an invitation to that table, drawn from journeys where the food felt inseparable from the place. There are unique foods around the world and through them it becomes a way to learn about food culture and the local community.
Before we begin, a note on care. Many of the foods below are wild-sourced or deeply rooted in local tradition. Try them with trusted hosts and homestays who know the seasons, the safe methods, and the stories.
If you have allergies especially to insects err on the side of caution and make sure everything is well cooked. Laws and availability shift across districts; when in doubt, ask the community and be ready to abstain. This is as much about learning as it is about tasting.
Temo (Spiti Valley, Himachal Pradesh)
In Spiti, altitude edits appetite. Wheat gives way to barley and buckwheat, and the kitchen turns toward preservation drying, fermenting, pickling to bridge long winters. “Temo” is a local umbrella for home-style staples rather than a single dish: steamed breads and porridges with nutty flours, fritters born of pulses and tubers, and bowls of foraged greens quick-sautéed to keep their bite.
The names shift by village; recipes belong to households. I’ve had versions in mud-plastered kitchens where the wind shook the prayer flags outside and the host pressed a second ladle into my hand, laughing at my city appetite. If you’re riding the Manali–Kaza or Shimla–Kaza routes, let your homestay know you want to eat what they eat. Spiti asks for patience; its abundance is quiet and seasonal.
If you’re planning to explore the valley on two wheels, check out this Spiti Valley travel guide which pairs perfectly with seeking out these authentic village meals along the way.
Siddu (also Sidu/Sidhu) Kullu–Manali’s steamed, fermented buns
Siddu is winter comfort, the kind that makes you linger over breakfast. Fermented wheat dough turns pleasantly tangy, then gets stuffed urad dal seasoned to warmth, walnuts or poppy seeds for texture, sometimes herbs that smell like the hillside after rain. It’s slow-steamed until the crumb is soft and springy, then kissed with desi ghee and a simple chutney or lentil soup.
My first siddu was in a roadside kitchen, where steam fogged the window and the cook insisted I take the ghee “properly.” I did, and learned that mountain generosity is measured in spoonfuls. In the Kullu–Manali belt, ask around at village cafés and markets; siddu tends to appear when the air gets thin and the appetite asks for something sturdy.
Where to try it: Village kitchens, seasonal markets, traditional cafés, and hotels in Kullu-Manali and Shimla area. Ask for “siddu” on breakfast menus.
Jadoh Khasi red rice with pork, Meghalaya
Jadoh is the kind of one-pot meal that pours out of a market stall like music. Short-grain red rice is lightly fried, then simmered with pork sometimes with fat for depth, occasionally with blood for color and richness plus onions, garlic, and aromatics that taste unmistakably of the hills.
It’s hearty and fragrant, meant to be shared and eaten without ceremony. I remember a Sunday market in the Khasi Hills where the vendor handed me a plate and a nod, then pointed to a jar of fermented greens to “make it proper.” It added a bright, fermented lift, and I realized Jadoh is as much about the side notes as the rice itself. If you hear music and smell pork on a Sunday, follow your nose someone is serving Jadoh nearby.
Chapda Bastar’s red‑ant chutney, Chhattisgarh
The first time I saw Chapda being made, a cook in Bastar moved with quiet authority. She toasted chiles and garlic until the room smelled smoky-sweet, then added red ants and their eggs with a care that felt ceremonial.
Pounded together, the paste turned vivid and alive; the formic acid gave a citrus snap that landed faster than any lime. It’s not a dish to take lightly. Eat Chapda only from hands that understand safe harvesting and cleaning, and treat it like a condiment rather than a main event.
I tried a fingertip’s worth on millet bread and felt the forest in the flavor. If you’re invited to taste it in a village kitchen or a trusted market stall, listen more than you speak; this food carries stories.
Silkworm pupae Assam and the broader Northeast
Silkworm pupae arrive with the hush of a longstanding practice. In Assam, I watched pupae by‑products of silk rearing get boiled to strip the bitterness then tossed with ginger, garlic, and chiles in a hot pan until the edges crisped.
Some batches are tender, some crunchy; both seem to provoke the same curious smile from first‑timers. Locals call them polu, leta, or muga leta depending on the community and silk species, and the names matter because they carry lineage. I ate mine in a home where the conversation drifted between harvests and weaving, and the plate felt like an honest link between the two.
If you go, go with someone who knows the households that prepare pupae traditionally, and be open to the textures and the context they’re inseparable.
Frog legs reports from parts of the Northeast and Himalayan foothills, including Sikkim
Frog legs sit in a complicated space. They do appear in the foodways of some hill communities, sometimes smoked or dried for later use, sometimes quickly stir‑fried or simmered in a mild curry.
But the appetite has consequences; over‑harvesting can thin local populations, and protections may apply depending on district and season. I’ve stood at the edge of a conversation where frog legs were offered, and I chose to listen and learn rather than eat. If you encounter them, ask gently about local rules and community views, and be ready to abstain. A respectful “not today” can still be a doorway to understanding how food, ecology, and tradition intersect.
A few practical notes to carry with you
Many of these foods are seasonal or ceremonial, and the best way in is through a host who understands both. Markets prefer cash and conversation over cards and haste. New proteins can be a surprise to the body; start with small portions and see how you feel. In places where winter stores are carefully counted, finish what you’re served. Food security is part of the landscape, and gratitude is an ingredient.
This guide draws on on‑the‑ground observations, shared meals with village cooks and homestay hosts, and regional reading that helps connect the plate to the place. Names and preparations differ by valley and tribe; when they do, I defer to the community’s language and method. I review and update the guide periodically for accuracy and seasonality. If you notice a change an ingredient gone scarce, a regulation updated reach out, and I’ll fold your knowledge back into the map.
If you love food and travel here are some of my best foodie articles to read:
Unusual Foods around the World
Where to eat the best food in Krakow
Food in Northern Ireland and where to eat it
What is a Full Irish breakfast?
British food – from jellied eels to fish and chips
Scottish Food – Haggis to Clootie dumplings