New Delhi: Indian street food has always managed to impress Australian taste buds—and now, Raj Kachori is having its moment.
In a recent episode of MasterChef Australia Season 17, Indian-origin contestant Depinder Chhibber brought a beloved Delhi street snack to the MasterChef kitchen, leaving the judges thoroughly impressed.
The Delhi-born chef recreated the iconic Raj Kachori—a crispy shell filled with moong sprouts, spiced potatoes, chickpeas, curd, tamarind chutney, and green chutney. She finished it off with a garnish of Kashmiri chilli, pomegranate arils, and a sprinkle of sev.
The dish left Depinder teary-eyed.
She had created each component from scratch and assembled the dish in front of the judges, who described it as a “little work of art,” “seamlessly chaotic,” and “the most amazing dish.”
One of the judges, journalist and food writer Sofia Levin, said, “If Raj Kachori is the king of street food, you are the queen.”
Luckily for Depinder, Raj Kachori saved her from elimination. But her dish has stirred up conversations back home.
While Indian chefs are proud to see their street food shine on international platforms, they’re quick to point out that Indian cuisine has much more depth than what meets the eye.
“Street food is undeniably vibrant and deeply loved, but it is only one thread in the vast fabric of our food heritage,” said chef Nishant Choubey, who specialises in regional Indian cuisine.
According to him, it’s about time the world broadened its perspective on Indian food—a few street dishes don’t define an entire cuisine.
“Every 100 kilometres, the menu changes. So do the language, the customs, the ingredients, and the way food is understood and celebrated,” he said.
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What is Raj Kachori?
The word ‘Raj’ means royal—and rightly so.
According to Choubey, who is also considered an encyclopedia on the history of Indian food, Raj Kachori is far more than just another chaat.
Created in the kitchens of Rajasthan—where food was not just nourishment but an expression of grandeur—Raj Kachori was so elaborate it felt like an entire thali in a single bowl.
“It was first crafted in Bikaner by the Marwari community,” said chef Parvinder Bali, an expert in traditional Indian cuisine.
Citing ancient Indian text Sushruta Samhita, Bali added that Raj Kachori dates as far back as 1613. It was only after it was served in Rajasthani gharanas that the kings took a liking to it.
“It was rich in protein, appealing to the eyes, and of course, flavourful. That’s how it became food for the palaces,” he explained.
Choubey said that Raj Kachori was one of the many creations born out of cooking face-offs in royal households and temple towns, where the goal was to create the most elaborate and flavourful dishes.
Over time, the dish transitioned from palace kitchens to temple offerings, eventually finding its place on street corners and in sweet shops.
“But despite its journey through time and place, it hasn’t lost its regal charm,” said Choubey.
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Pedestrian food is becoming exotic
Raj Kachori isn’t the first Indian street food to earn ecstatic, “foodgasmic” reactions from MasterChef Australia judges. Last year, it was Pani Puri.
The humble Indian street snack—also known as gol gappa or puchka in different parts of the country—got a euphoric response from the panel, including celebrity chef Jamie Oliver, who couldn’t contain his excitement after tasting it.
While such over-the-top reactions may amuse Indian audiences, consultant chef Sabyasachi Gorai highlighted a deeper connection.
He linked it to a growing culinary trend—where even top Michelin-starred restaurants are embracing foraged and hyperlocal ingredients.
Foraging, once practiced by nomads and communities without access to abundant food, refers to gathering wild edible plants and ingredients from the natural environment—like mushrooms, roots, and herbs.
According to Gorai, foods that were once labelled “poor man’s food,” like millets, have become extremely popular in high-end restaurants.
While Raj Kachori or Pani Puri may not be considered food of the poor, he noted, they are reasonably priced and easily accessible to most Indians. These street foods are packed with bold spices and flavour profiles often unfamiliar to foreign chefs and palates.
“So if you present Indian food, which is mostly considered pedestrian, it would be very exotic for the rest of the world,” he said.
For Bali, street food represents the soul of a country—because it’s what the masses eat. He mentioned Thailand, where tourists travel from across the world just to savour its street food.
“It shouldn’t be considered as anything below what we serve in top restaurants,” he said, adding that chefs who bring Indian street food to global platforms should modernise it without compromising authenticity.
Just like the chefs, it’s time the public also takes pride in these delicacies.
Indian youth often admire the sleek layers, expensive chocolates, and fancy plating of French or Japanese cuisine—seeing it as a benchmark of culinary “cool,” Gorai pointed out.
Traditional Indian dishes like Raj Kachori or Pani Puri, however, rarely get viewed through the same lens.
“But the truth is,” he said, “these dishes are just as hip and cool.”
Choubey, however, cautioned against limiting culinary expression to what’s convenient or instantly popular.
Instead, he said it’s the responsibility of Indian chefs to move beyond the obvious and bring attention to recipes from the “quiet kitchens.”
“Let’s celebrate the quiet kitchens of our villages, the heirloom recipes passed down through generations, and hyperlocal ingredients,” Choubey said.
(Edited by Prashant)