Winters in Meghalaya are a time for family.
In the case of the Warjri sisters from Shillong, it is also a time for salad.
Soh Khleh is a salad made with that winter fruit — pomelo, oranges, and mustard greens. It is usually eaten after a meal as the “something sweet” in place of dessert. “At our home, making this salad is an event, a group activity involving all our siblings and cousins. We sit out in the sun, cut up the fruit, and mix it all together with mustard oil, salt, sugar, and sometimes chilli,” says Daphimanroi Warjri. The whole family then partakes in the resultant salad.
Soh Khleh — and the story of its creation — is part of a pop-up curated by Daphimanroi and her sister, Dakiwanri Warjri. Known affectionately as Daphi and Daki, the sisters have become the unofficial custodians of Khasi cuisine. They belong to the Khasi tribe, one of the three main tribes in Meghalaya. Growing up in Shillong — a misty city on a plateau surrounded by lush, rolling hills — in a large family that included grandparents, parents, and four siblings, they often accompanied their uncle, an IAS officer, on his travels. It was those trips around Meghalaya — a word that means “abode of clouds” — that subconsciously set them on the path to Symbai.
Crafting the Soh Kleh — a Symbai specialty
Through their pop-up, Symbai, they have been delving into the roots of their Khasi heritage and sharing their learnings with people across India. “Symbai was the beginning of something for us, and seeds are the beginning of all food; hence the name,” explains Daphi. In addition, they believe their pop-ups allow them “to plant seeds of knowledge about Khasi culture.”
The genesis of Symbai, like most good things, happened by chance. In April 2021, while Daphi was working in Pondicherry, she invited friends over for a meal, and her Khasi food was a hit. A friend suggested she cook this food for others too.
“I called Daki and asked her if she would do this with me. She said yes!” recalls Daphi. Despite living in different cities, the sisters remain close. Daki is a freelance editor who helps her mother run a nursery school, while Daphi runs a cloud kitchen bakery in Mumbai called The Flourists. Daphi, who completed a bakery course at Sophia Polytechnic and ran a bakery called Daphi’s in Shillong for six years, had long been immersed in the culinary world, while Daki began cooking seriously during the pandemic.
Coincidentally, Daki had recently finished a small pop-up with a friend in Shillong when she received the call from her sister.
What started as a small event on the friend’s terrace quickly morphed into a two-weekend gig at a farmhouse in Pondicherry. The ticketed event sold out within 24 hours.
“At first, it was a little daunting. We would be cooking our food for other people on a bigger scale than our previous pop-up in Shillong. We were representing our food,” says Daki. “We did wonder if we could pull off such an event, serving the food we eat at home — the food our mom, grandmom, aunt, and uncles cook,” adds her sister.
That April, Symbai had its first pop-up, and despite a soggy salad, it went well. In the four years since, they have conducted 16 pop-ups across India at small venues as well as reputed restaurants and hotels in major metros. The response has always been encouraging and positive, and their Black Sesame Pork remains a steady favorite.
Symbai showcases the diversity of Khasi food and ingredients from Meghalaya, served with a side of knowledge. Khasi cuisine is often clubbed with the broader cuisine of the Northeast and is considered spicy. Many diners have never heard of Shillong or Meghalaya — some even ask, “Are you Indian?” — so Symbai’s pop-ups end up being revelatory for many.
A peek into their kitchen.
“It is very important that we educate people through our food,” says Daphi. “Everyone thinks we are all the same, but every region and tribe has its own culture, traditions, and beliefs. Even in Meghalaya itself, there is so much we’ve not eaten. Every time we visit a village, we discover an unfamiliar herb or a unique style of cooking. A common reaction at the end of our meals is that diners are surprised our food isn’t heavy on masala, is easy on the palate, and has distinct flavours.”
For that first pop-up, Daki carried a suitcase full of ingredients from Shillong — a practice that continues to this day. Among the items they bring from home because “the flavour is different” are Lakadong turmeric, black pepper, black sesame, perilla seeds, smoked pork, and honey. Sometimes, depending on the berries in season, Daki and her family turn them into compotes to use in desserts (or even in Daphi’s baked products).
At each event, diners sit around community-style tables and enjoy a four-course meal — soup or salad, starter, mains, and dessert — accompanied by stories about the ingredients and tidbits of Khasi cuisine. “With every course, we come out and explain what inspired that particular dish. We serve a soup made of wild shiitake mushrooms foraged by our house-help in Shillong, or pickles my dad has made. All these stories are incorporated into the meal,” says Daphi.
Alongside the food, they include music from home, and the table decor features napkins made of ryndia (eri silk), a fabric that is part of the traditional Khasi attire — a checked design in orange and yellow — and miniatures of khoh, multi-purpose cone baskets. Diners love the latter so much that they often ask to take them home as souvenirs. “We weave in a narrative of the place through our stories. The interaction helps people understand our region a little more, and we answer every question,” says Daki.
Through 16 pop-ups across the country, one thing has remained unchanged: The recipes, which have been sourced from family and friends or inspired by Khasi food stalls and their travels to other villages in Meghalaya. The menu changes with the seasons.
One of the biggest challenges for the sisters was curating a sit-down menu with courses. “We are a tribal community that eats at home, and we don’t eat course-wise. So, we took our broths — like the one we make with pork and mustard leaf — and served that as a soup,” explains Daphi. The aforementioned winter salad with pomelo and mustard becomes part of the salad course. “We are not a dessert-eating community, so we had to get innovative. A common snack we eat — a slice of yam with honey — turns into a mashed yam dessert with a honey and orange juice reduction. Or the sticky rice we eat with malai and honey is transformed into a sticky rice dessert with crème anglaise and a compote of seasonal fruit,” she adds.
Another challenge, according to Daki, was planning their vegetarian menu. “It’s been a little experimental for us,” she laughs. “Our vegetarian dishes are usually stir-fries or salads. At a recent pop-up, we served a water chestnut curry — a dish traditionally made as a Bhoi recipe with fermented fish, which we swapped for fermented soy.”
The biggest learning for them has been looking at their own cuisine differently.
“The thing about Khasi food is that, all too often, it is associated with those plates of food you get at small stalls. It is devalued, and no one has looked at it in a way that gives it the value it deserves. From the start, Symbai gave us a new perspective on this,” says Daki. “Sometimes, it even comes as a shock that there’s so much value in our cuisine.”
In the beginning, the sisters were overwhelmed by a sense of responsibility, but they have slowly embraced their role as custodians of their cuisine. “We’ve come to realize that what we are doing is really important,” adds Daphi.
Important — and, much like that winter salad, delicious too.
Words by Joanna Lobo.
Feature image courtesy Anush S Kumar for Svasa Life.
