The past few months have quietly but deeply altered the rhythm of our kitchens. With the ongoing LPG shortages affecting households across cities like Calcutta, cooking is no longer just about recipes — it has become about adjustment, improvisation and in many cases, survival. Conversations that once revolved around menus and flavours are now about cylinder availability, backup plans and how to stretch one refill for as long as possible. In the middle of this, a noticeable shift has begun; people are returning to older methods, including the use of koyla (coal/wood-based chulhas), while also rediscovering the efficiency of induction and low-flame cooking.
Just last week, a client shared how her household had to suddenly pivot. With no clear timeline on the next LPG delivery, her family brought out an old koyla setup from storage — something they hadn’t used in years. Initially, it felt inconvenient and messy. The smoke, the time it took to get the fire going, the unpredictability of the heat — it was a far cry from the convenience of a gas stove. But within a couple of days, something interesting happened. They began planning meals differently. Instead of quick, high-flame cooking, they leaned into dishes that benefit from slow, steady heat — dal, sabzis, and even rotis cooked patiently over embers. The food tasted different — deeper, smokier, more grounded.
At the same time, many urban homes are leaning heavily on induction cooktops as their primary or backup solution. Unlike koyla, induction offers cleanliness and control. But it comes with its own learning curve. You cannot rush food on induction the way you might on a high LPG flame. The instinct to “turn up the heat” often backfires, leading to uneven cooking or loss of texture. What works instead is embracing low to medium settings and allowing ingredients to cook through gradually.
This dual shift, towards both traditional fire and modern induction, has created a fascinating middle ground in our cooking styles. On one hand, the coal teaches patience and respect for fire. On the other, induction demands precision and restraint. Together, they are reshaping how we approach everyday meals.
Take something as simple as Aloo Jeera. On a gas stove, it’s often a quick toss — high heat, fast stirring, done in minutes. But on induction or koyla, the approach changes. Boiled potatoes are cut and spread out in a wide pan, with minimal oil, and left undisturbed for a few minutes at a time. The heat is gentle, allowing the edges to slowly crisp up. Cumin seeds release their aroma without burning, and the potatoes develop a light crust that feels almost roasted. It’s the same dish, but with a completely different personality.
Another example comes from a caterer friend who recently had to execute a small dinner using only induction due to LPG constraints. Instead of attempting her usual high-heat gravies, she redesigned the menu entirely. One of the standout dishes was a slow-cooked Lauki Chana Dal. The dal was soaked and simmered gently, without pressure cooking, allowing it to retain its shape while becoming tender. The lauki melted into the base, creating a natural creaminess. A simple tempering of ghee, garlic and cumin was added at the end. The feedback from guests was unanimous — it felt lighter, more digestible, and surprisingly flavourful for such a humble dish.
Even with koyla, people are rediscovering dishes that suit its nature. A neighbour mentioned how she started making Baingan Bharta directly over the coal flame again. The eggplant, charred slowly, developed a smokiness that no gas stove can replicate. Instead of rushing the bharta, she let it cook slowly in its own juices, with minimal spices. The result was rustic, imperfect, but deeply satisfying.
What’s becoming clear is that the current situation is forcing a kind of culinary introspection. We are being pushed to rethink not just how we cook, but what we cook. High-flame, oil-heavy, quick dishes are giving way to slower, more thoughtful preparations. There is a renewed appreciation for ingredients, for example, the way onions caramelise slowly, the way tomatoes break down naturally, the way spices bloom gently in warm oil rather than burn in hot fat.
One particularly interesting adaptation is happening with one-pot meals. In times when fuel is limited, efficiency becomes key. A slow-cooked Vegetable Pulao on induction, for instance, can be both practical and elegant. Whole spices are gently heated in oil, rice is added and lightly toasted, and then water and vegetables are introduced. Instead of cooking on high heat, the pulao is left to cook on a low setting, allowing the grains to absorb flavour evenly. There is no rush, no aggressive boiling — just a steady, controlled process that yields a more cohesive dish.
Desserts, too, are finding their place in this new rhythm. With induction, making something like a simple kheer becomes less labour-intensive and more precise. Milk can be reduced slowly without the constant fear of burning, and sugar can be added gradually to control sweetness. The result is a dessert that feels richer, not because of added ingredients, but because of time and attention.
Of course, this transition is not without its challenges. There is frustration, especially for those running professional kitchens or managing large households. The unpredictability of LPG supply disrupts planning, and not everyone has the luxury of time to adapt to slower cooking methods. The use of coal also raises concerns about ventilation and practicality in urban settings. But within these constraints, there is also a quiet resilience emerging.
What stands out most are the small, real adjustments people are making every day. Cooking larger batches to reduce fuel usage. Reusing residual heat — letting a dish finish cooking on a turned-off induction plate or dying embers. Choosing recipes that require minimal intervention. These are not glamorous changes, but they are meaningful.
In many ways, this moment is reminding us of something we had almost forgotten — that good food does not always come from high flames and fast techniques. Sometimes, it comes from slowing down, from working with what we have, and from being willing to adapt. The shift to induction and koyla cooking is not just a response to a shortage; it is a return to a more mindful way of being in the kitchen.
And perhaps that is the real takeaway. In the middle of disruption, there is an opportunity to rediscover the essence of cooking — not as a task to be completed quickly, but as a process to be experienced fully. Whether it’s the steady hum of an induction cooktop or the crackle of a koyla fire, both are teaching us the same lesson: that patience, intention and adaptability are the true ingredients that define a meal.
Vidisha Bathwal is the founder of Paprika Gourmet, an exotic artisanal catering service brand in Calcutta. She’s also a passionate foodie and a fitness enthusiast.
