Bhorta is, Kolkata-native chef Asma Khan explains, the Bengali pronunciation of the Hindi word bharta, meaning mashed – it’s an important distinction, too, because, although spiced mashed vegetables, seafood or meat are found in many regions of the Indian subcontinent, bhorta is particularly dear to Bangladesh and the neighbouring Indian province of West Bengal.
Indeed, according to British Bangladeshi food writer Dina Begum, it’s the “quintessential soul food of Bangladeshi cuisine”, repopularised by post-independence efforts to rediscover the country’s culinary traditions and served with panta bhat, or fermented rice, at Pôhela Boishakh (Bengali New Year) celebrations each spring. Adiba and Arafat, the husband and wife team behind the Spice Odyssey website, write that: “In Bangladesh, a country marked by a huge chasm between the rich and the poor, the once austere mishmash of vegetables … has become the gamechanger – marking the return of the privileged to the food of their forefathers. The gradual incorporation of bhorta … as a celebratory food at home and abroad is a tale of how sharing common food as a ritual can become a marker of cultural and national identity.”
Begum describes the premise of bhorta as “a straightforward one. Take one ingredient. If it’s simple, elevate it; if it’s strong, push it to the limit.” And though bhorta can be made with almost anything, seasoned with mustard oil, onions and chillies, the potato version is, Adiba says, “the most common form of bhorta in Bengali culture”. Though bhorta is, inarguably, mashed potatoes, “it is very different from its western counterpart”, albeit just as comforting and, arguably, even more delicious. Or perhaps, because I love mash and not everything is a competition, just as delicious.
The potatoes
As ever where potatoes are concerned, many recipes are vague on the preferred kind, which is odd given the difference between a light and fluffy, floury spud and a dense and creamy, waxy example. Of those who do specify a preference, both Khan and Jonathan Hirshon, AKA The Food Dictator, call for floury varieties, while Saira Hamilton, author of My Bangladesh Kitchen, says salad spuds such as anya or charlotte are the best substitutes for the “very small and slightly pink” examples used in Bangladesh. Begum agrees: “Bengali aloo bhorta should not be fluffy at all; it needs to be sticky and waxy.” Much as I love a fluffy mash, that’s a very different dish.
For this reason, one of Khan’s suggested cooking methods – baking – is not really relevant, because I’m certainly not scooping out the teaspoons of flesh from tiny roast new potatoes (though I do enjoy the results, not least because baking really is the best way to bring out the flavour and fluff of potatoes). Neither would I recommend peeling and chopping the potatoes before boiling, as Begum does in Made in Bangladesh (or at least she does in the version of her recipe provided by Saveur magazine). Instead, boil them in their skins, both for flavour and to stop them becoming waterlogged, then rub them off once cool enough to handle.
Begum recalls her grandmother Nani mashing the potatoes by hand in the traditional fashion on a shil bata, “a flat slab of stone with a cylindrical stone for rolling”. But the best way for most of us to achieve the required smooth, sticky finish is to get energetic with a potato masher (personally, I never get good results using a hand blender, but feel free to give that a whirl).
The extras
Every aloo bhorta, as far as I can tell, contains onion and chilli – the difference comes in whether they’re used raw or cooked. With cooked onion, the chilli is often, but not always, a dry red Kashmiri variety, toasted in hot oil and then crumbled, whereas raw onion tends to be paired with a fresh green pepper.
As Khan makes clear by giving recipes for both in her book Asma’s Indian Kitchen, it’s a matter of context and preference. I love the smokiness of the charred chilli in Khan and Begum’s recipes, as well as the bitter bite of the uncooked green chillies in Khan’s alternative version, also used by Hamilton, so I’ve included both options below. (Alternatively, if you really can’t decide, you could, like Hirshon, use both cooked and raw onion in the same dish, though I think this makes it a bit dominant.)
Brown onions are not commonly used in Bangladesh, so the popular pink onion used there is best substituted by Hamilton’s shallot or Khan’s red onion. Fresh coriander is often chopped into the dish for colour, and you could also add garlic to a cooked chilli version, as Khan and Hirshon do. Hirshon makes a paste from dried chilli and garlic, which helps the potato to soak up its fiery flavour, but I prefer versions in which you can taste the potato as well as the seasoning.
Adiba adds a hard-boiled egg to her bhorta, “to jazz it up … I think the combination of boiled potato and boiled eggs is just something!” which is a nice idea if you want to include some protein; aloo bhorta is often served with rice and dal, so an egg never goes amiss.
The spices
Hamilton, Khan, Adiba and Begum stick to chillies alone, while Hirshon adds a panch poran, or five-spice mix, specially designed to suit the dish, using cumin, fenugreek, radhuni (for which I have to substitute celery seed), fennel and kalonji, or nigella seeds.
It’s an intriguingly bittersweet, aromatic blend, but, along with the asafoetida and turmeric he also uses, it overpowers the potato; good as the dish tastes, I want the main ingredient to be more than mere texture.
The oil
Whatever you cook your onion in, you must finish the dish with mustard oil, because it’s the distinctive flavour of Bengal, and not one easily replaced by Khan’s alternative, argan oil (which is pleasantly nutty, rather than bitter and hot). Mustard oil is still banned for sale for consumption by the UK, EU and US (and despite disagreement over the evidence for the dangers of erucic acid), so you will probably find it labelled as “for external use only”. But rest assured, many millions of people do ingest it daily without apparent ill effect. That said, I have no medical training, so if you would prefer not to take the risk, Begum recommends combining a tablespoon of vegetable oil with a teaspoon of English mustard powder as an alternative. If you want the dish to be particularly rich, you could, as Hirshon does, drizzle some ghee over the top to finish, but it shouldn’t be necessary.
Hamilton echoes the mustard oil by stirring in a tablespoon of wholegrain mustard, too, which my testers and I all very much enjoy – it may not be traditional, though I’m prepared to stand corrected on that point, but it is delicious. A few mustard seeds would also work, but are very much optional.
To finish
The dense consistency means that, to my mind, aloo bhorta looks best shaped, rather than piled haphazardly into a dish – you can sculpt it into mounds, pat it into a flat cake or shape it into little balls for easy service, as Hirshon charmingly suggests.
Perfect aloo bhorta
Prep 15 min
Cook 20 min
Serves 4-6 as a side
500g waxy potatoes (eg charlotte, anya, jersey royals)
Salt
1 small red onion or large shallot, peeled and finely chopped
1 small bunch fresh coriander
For the cooked version
2 tbsp mustard oil
1 tsp black mustard seeds (optional)
1 garlic clove, peeled and chopped (optional)
2-4 dried red kashmiri chillies
Or, for the fresh version
1-2 green chillies, to taste, deseeded and finely chopped
1 tbsp mustard oil
Put the potatoes, scrubbed if necessary, but not peeled, in a pan with a generous shake of salt and cover with cold water. Bring to a boil, then simmer until cooked through. Drain immediately and leave to dry in their own steam.
Meanwhile, if you’re making the cooked version, put a tablespoon of the mustard oil in a frying pan on a high heat, and fry the dried red chillies until they begin to blacken. Scoop out the chillies into a bowl, add the mustard seeds to the hot oil in the pan and fry until they start to pop. Set aside in a separate bowl.
Turn down the heat, then fry the chopped onion and garlic, if using, until soft and beginning to colour. Meanwhile, crush the red chillies, if using, into little flakes.
For both versions, rub the skins off the potatoes using your fingers, a clean tea towel or a butter knife, then put them back into the pan (or a sturdy bowl) and mash energetically until very smooth and sticky.
Stir in the remaining mustard oil, chilli (fresh green or flaked red), and fried onion and garlic and mustard seeds, if using, then season to taste.
Finely chop the coriander, stir in, then shape the bhorta as desired and serve.
Aloo bhorta, or bharta, is a dish with many regional and personal variations – what’s your favourite and what’s its story? Why is bhorta so particularly beloved in Bengal, and which other versions would you recommend others try?
