Be it as knata chochchori with pnui dnata or steamed with oil, green chilli and mustard paste, it does not take much to produce a delicacy out of hilsa.

Just as it takes no more than a mention of the king of fins to make Bengalis indulge in adda. One such session took place recently at The Sonnet on the occasion of a food festival titled Teenti Nodir Ilish, starring hilsa from Ganga, Padma and Rupnarayan.

Yes, it takes time to digest hilsa, the bones are difficult to pluck out but it is good for one’s cholesterol level, being rich in Omega 3 fatty acid. Above all such is its taste that the temptation can toss all negative considerations out of the plate.

“Naam dhorbi toh police, machh khabi toh ilish,” theatre personality Debojit Bandyopadhyay quoted the saying to set the mood for the conversation.

He recalled a voyage from Dhaka to Chandpur. “The boatmen kept serving us fried hilsa all the way. And when we approached the bank, there was Esho amar ghore esho being sung in chorus to welcome us.” “It was an unforgettable experience,” agreed wife Riddhi, who was also on the trip.

She voted the Baked Hilsa she had in Dhaka Club as among the best she has had — “better than Baked Pomfret” — before singing Amar bhitor bahirey antaro antarey achho tumi in tribute to the finned royalty. But dancer Sanchita Bhattacharya had the best taste of hilsa in far-away London. “They call up London from Bangladesh as soon as the fish is netted and the catch is iced and packed on board a flight straightaway to reach the plate hours later.”

Barun Chanda remembered an occasion about five decades back when a 17 mile shoal of hilsa swam upstream right till Chandernagore. “The boats filled with fish in no time and the boatmen were splashing water on the bottom boards from time to time to keep the catch heaped there alive. That monsoon, we had hilsa at 14 annas a kilo.”

When the conversation veered towards the bones, santoor player Tarun Bhattacharya recalled in amazement having seen a foreigner tackle hilsa with spoon and fork with elan. Pranab Nandy raised eyebrows by claiming that he could sift the bones using his tongue after mouthing the fish. “It takes me 10 minutes to eat five-six pieces of hilsa,” he declared as others listened open-mouthed to the proprietor of celebrated confectioners Girish Chandra Ghosh & Nakur Chandra Nandy.

Fish is one way of showing affection too for Bengalis. Sanchita recalled a lunch at Pandit Ravi Shankar’s house in Delhi where the sitar maestro sat next to Tarun at the table. “The fish head had been served to him. But in course of the meal, he remembered that Tarun loved fish heads and exclaimed: ‘Ami kyano muro khachchhi?’ and transferred the fish head to his disciple’s plate.”

Sudipta Chakraborty described herself as the odd one out in the adda, having turned a vegetarian for quite a number of years. “Not my daughter. She eats everything!” she said, with little Sahida on her lap.

General manager Rajib Roy Choudhury pointed out how the hilsa had become a symbol of Bengali culture. “By drawing the next generation towards the hilsa through such food festivals we are actually familiarising them with our roots and traditions.” Agreed Joie Bose, a poet from CD Block, who also read out a poem.

The food festival may be over but most of the dishes will continue to be served at the hotel till the Pujas.

Ilisher Patishapta

Ingredients:

Serves: 2
Boneless ilish pieces – 2
Green chilli – 2 to 4
Black pepper – 5g
Coriander leaves - few
Finely chopped onion – 200g
Salt to taste
Mustard oil – 200g

Method:

Heat oil and stir fry boneless Iilish with green chilli, black pepper, coriander leaves and finely chopped onions. Wrap in a crepe.

Deep fry crisp and serve with a mint tarmarind dip

(From The Sonnet kitchen)

Sudeshna Banerjee