What happens when an indigenous ingredient earns a largely notorious reputation due to archaic excise policies? How does one reintroduce it to modern diets, while preserving indigenous knowledge? We gather perspectives from four people who pick, eat, and consume Mahua.
Mahua trees grow in abundance across forested plains in western, central, and eastern India, and for centuries, have been revered as the ‘wish-granting tree’ by Indigenous communities inhabiting these regions. As a cultural symbol, the tree is often prayed to, sung about, and celebrated through folk festivals. Traditionally, families used the tree’s flowers, fruits, branches, and leaves for food, cattle fodder, medicine, and more popularly, as the eponymous liquor.
Major life events—birth, marriage, and death—are all marked by Mahua. Families brewed, consumed, and sold Mahua freely until the British banned the collection, storage, and processing of the flowers in the late 1800s. Since then, it has earned a largely notorious reputation as country liquor and, in turn, the use of Mahua flowers has disappeared among most communities that harvest them.
Wild Harvest—a social enterprise in Jharkhand’s Jonha region, and The Locavore’s partner producer—is trying to change this perception. It has only been a little over a year since Wild Harvest was established, but so far they’ve worked with 40 households in Jillingsering, Dipatoli, Gautamdhara, Koynardih, and Hapatbeda villages under the Guiridih Panchayat to explore Mahua’s potential beyond country liquor, and introduce its flowers as a viable food. They regularly hold discussions with communities that rely on Mahua trees, organise workshops to promote its culinary and nutritional value, and provide families with nets, baskets, and other equipment to make the collection of the flowers easier.
To better understand the relationship between Mahua and those who harvest it, and how it has evolved over the years, The Locavore spoke to four people—Ashren Beck, Pariva Devi, Pradeep Lakra, and Harshita Kakwani—who have grown to love eating Mahua.
“People don’t eat Mahua because they don’t know how to cook with it”
Ashren Beck, Dipatoli
Seventy-year-old Ashren Beck, lovingly known as Badi Dadi, moved to Dipatoli over 50 years ago, right after marriage, and has since been picking Mahua flowers to sell them to local traders, or to make liquor. “We would start picking the flowers in March, right after Holi, and go on till April,” she says. Now, Ashren’s family closely works with Wild Harvest to collect, dry, and pack the flowers.
“People don’t eat Mahua because they don’t know how to cook with it,” Ashren shares when asked about its disappearance from modern diets. Decades ago, people would prepare both sweet and savoury dishes with the flower. For instance, at her in-laws’ house, once the flowers dried in May-June, they would be ground in a dheki, a wooden hand-pounding device, and used to make Mahua chana, a savoury preparation. However, her daughter-in-law does not know how to cook with the flowers: “If she wants to learn, I’ll teach her.”
Ashren herself tasted Mahua for the first time only after she arrived in Dipatoli. “I didn’t pick Mahua before marriage because it wasn’t available there [at her maternal home in Lohardaga in Jharkhand],” she explains.
“I snack on Mahua flowers while packing them”
Pradeep Lakra, Kherwagarha
Eighteen-year-old Pradeep Lakra grew up in a joint family in Kherwagarha, surrounded by eight Mahua trees, but never consumed the flowers. “People at home don’t eat Mahua because it [the flowers] falls on the floor,” he explains. Only when he started working at the Wild Harvest’s packaging unit in Dipatoli to weigh the flowers, he got around to tasting them.
“I snack on the flowers while packing them,” Pradeep says. But it is Mahua cake that he is most fond of, having tried it at one of Wild Harvest’s cooking workshops. Once the flowers are dried, they turn dark brown and have a distinct sweetness, perfect for baked goods like cakes. He also loves a sweet-and-spicy Mahua chutney.
While Pradeep isn’t familiar with any folk tales or songs associated with Mahua, he believes that the legacy of the tree—both as a cultural symbol and as food—will live on because more and more people are starting to cook and experiment with its flowers.
“It tasted like kishmish”
Pariva Devi, Jonha
“Earlier we didn’t know what Mahua [flowers] tasted like or how to cook with it, we just knew it was used to make liquor,” says Pariva Devi, who has been living in the Jonha region for the past 20 years. She, along with her family, picks flowers for Wild Harvest. Her reaction upon trying the sun-dried flower for the first time? “It tasted like kishmish.”
Since then, she has grown to love eating and cooking with Mahua. Mahua laddoos—mixed with dried fruits like cashew nuts and raisins along with jaggery, and ghee—are her favourite.
Up until last year, Pariva’s family would simply harvest and dry the flowers and sell them at local markets or to local traders. They have four Mahua trees, and would spend almost 12 hours a day picking the flowers. Now, with Wild Harvest’s support, they put nets around their trees, which helps them save both time and energy when picking flowers, and then dry them on machans.
“Mahua grew in abundance four-five years ago,” she says. “It blooms less now.” The climate crisis, especially unseasonal rains, has significantly impacted the quality and sweetness of Mahua.
“There were no recipes to cook from, only stories”
Harshita Kakwani, Indore
Food researcher and chef Harshita Kakwani, who is Wild Harvest’s ambassador, has been cooking with Mahua for over a decade. She first came across the tree in Pench in Madhya Pradesh. “I was completely unfamiliar with its smell, let alone the ways to cook it,” she says. “There were no recipes to cook from, only stories. It was all passed down orally, they [the local communities] never wrote it down.”
“For many communities, there was shame around it [picking Mahua flowers],” explains Harshita. “Because you’re not growing anything, you’re foraging.” In both Pench and Jonha, Mahua flowers have typically been used as prasad or offering, and are infamous for being associated with liquor. Even for locals who do cook with Mahua, it is a novelty more than an everyday experience.
To read more about Wild Harvest and their practices and efforts, check out our producer page here. This is a paid partnership with Wild Harvest. We strive to keep the practices of a producer transparent and honest across all forms of partnerships.
Yashvi Shah is the Partnerships Copywriter at The Locavore. In her free time, she likes creating playlists for her friends, and going on runs.
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