Have you noticed some similarities between the Russians and Bengalis? Well, they write poetry and dark novels. They make films. And they are convinced that nothing is better than their fish roe — of sturgeon in the case of the Russians, and hilsa for Bengalis.

I first tasted caviar when I was a callow youth, and formed a lasting fondness for it. My introduction to the hilsa came rather late for, as I’ve said earlier, there was no hilsa to be found for love or for money in western Uttar Pradesh where I grew up. Not surprisingly, my first meeting with hilsa roe — called ilish maachher dim — was late, too. But like the caviar, I liked it instantly.

Even as I make this comparison, I know some Bengali chefs are sharpening their knives to chuck at me. In fact, I find that most Bengali chefs get offended when I mention caviar and hilsa roe in the same breath. “Hilsa egg is the best in the world,” says Anumitra Ghosh-Dostidar, a linguist-cum-chef who runs a neat little restaurant called The Big Bongg Theory in New Delhi.

So beware if you belong to that crass lot that believes roe is roe is roe. Bengali chefs go ecstatic when they describe hilsa roe’s taste and texture, which, they hold, cannot be compared with other fish roe. And now I find that they are presenting the egg in out-of-the-box ways.

Purists will frown at that, for they believe that the egg tastes best when it nestles in the fish, soaking in all the flavours when you cook the fish. Some would go as far as to say that roe can be fried. But beyond that? Na, baba, na!

Azad Taslim Arif, however, has ably pushed the envelope. The senior executive chef at The Vedic Village believes in experimenting with hilsa roe. He roasts a roe cake on a hot plate and then serves it with kasundi for his ilish macher-dim roast. He makes a kasundi mustard and cheese chili hilsa roe baked too.

Indeed, the chef has given the dim a complete makeover. He prepares something called Who Stole My Roe — fish egg cooked with onion, green chillies and coriander leaves, wrapped in mustard and white sauce. The name is derived from the fact that the roe is almost hidden in the dish.

Clearly, chefs’ creative juices flow when the hilsa roe is concerned. Chef Ghosh-Dostidar makes little roe balls, fries them and lets them simmer in a sweet and sour gravy. “When you fry the egg, the tiny roe bits stick together. So the texture is great, as is the taste.”

Chef Bhaskar Dasgupta of Oh! Calcutta in Delhi prepares a tea time dish with hilsa roe. He steams the fish, takes the flesh out, chucks the bones and mixes the fish with onions, coriander, cumin and other spices. He sautés this with the roe, shapes it, then dips in egg, crumbs it and fries it. “And that’s my ilish dimer devil,” he says.

There is usually not enough egg in the fish to turn it into a whole dish. So chef Azad cooks it with other ingredients. He prepares ravioli, flavoured with coriander and stuffed with hilsa roe. His hilsa batata brava is a potato confit cooked in hilsa oil, with sautéed hilsa roe and burnt tomato chutney and sour cream. “This is a classic Spanish tapas,” he says, adding that some of the roe dishes will figure in an innovative hilsa festival that he has planned at his Bengali restaurant, Bhoomi.

I like the sound of his hilsa roe bhurjee on toast — the egg is sautéed with onion, tomato, green chillies and fresh coriander, and then served on crunchy garlic toast. It reminds me of the egg on toast — scrambled egg on fried bread — that the Press Club in New Delhi serves. And that last remark, I am afraid, will certainly bring the knives out.

Photographs: Subhendu Chaki;
Location courtesy: The Vedic Village, Calcutta