Foraging, a practice rooted in survival and indigenous wisdom among forest dwellers and rural populations with limited access to food, is now shaping culinary experiences in urban cities. As sustainability, authenticity, and hyperlocality become new benchmarks of fine dining, a new generation of Indian chefs is reclaiming forgotten ingredients, reinterpreting age-old traditions, and taking this ethos to the world on a plate. But in an era of climate change and biodiversity loss, can foraging be both a culinary revolution and an ethical practice?
Chef Vanika Choudhary, who until recently had two restaurants in Mumbai (Sequel and Noon), is currently spending some time back at her home in Srinagar. “Spending my early childhood in Kashmir and then in Jammu, foraging was just an integral part of our lives.” She recollects watching her grandmother sundrying ‘gucchi’ mushrooms, better known as morel mushrooms, in their backyard. “The Gujjars came down from the mountains to sell them fresh, collected straight outside their camps higher up in the forests,” Vanika shares. She believes that it is only the entirely urban-born and raised population who are disconnected from the concept of foraging or growing food in the backyards.
The story is similar for Chef Ark from Maslandapur in West Bengal, who now works at Kanha Earth Lodge in Madhya Pradesh. The New Zealand-trained chef has been growing two different varieties of Malabar spinach (green and red) at the resort’s farm, alongside mushrooms in a dark hut. When he ran out of space, he started using the backyard of his rented accommodation nearby. “I discovered ‘Chui jhaal’, a substitute for chillies used by villagers around my hometown, since before chillies came to India”, he says, while I smell a plant stem that comes from Piper chaba – a flowering vine common to South-East Asia. Incidentally, I found the ingredient being used in Northern Thailand on a recent visit.
Chef Thomas Zacharias, who built The Locavore to showcase and develop a knowledge base on wild foods, holds strong opinions about how people should perceive foraging. “Our work around wild foods is rooted in reciprocity, not extraction. Foraging is deeply contextual, shaped by ecology, season, and lived knowledge passed down through generations,” he says. Vanika reflects this sentiment. Having foraged with local communities in Kashmir, Ladakh and even Maharashtra, she says, “If you live with them, you realise it is still very much a part of their lives. The idea is to understand how these communities still forage, how these forest ingredients are incorporated into their daily culinary practices and ritual and to borrow from them to create a new language of food.” Recently, Vanika created vinegar from wild rhubarb, but also pointed out that Ladakhis only chew on it as a source of Vitamin C for high-altitude living.
Chef Niyati Rao of Ekaa has been on a seaweed and kelp exploration journey lately. “Some of my most profound discoveries this year have come from the western coastal belt. Seaweed that ranges from the Ratnagiri Sargassum to sea asparagus (samphire) from the coast of Gujarat. It has urged me to know more about cooking with seaweed”, she says. Familiar with Japanese varieties, the local discovery sparks creativity for minds like Rao.
Foraging is not just for chefs, though. Nao Spirits started its own foraging journey while creating Hapusa, an award-winning gin. “The juniper we use is a wild variety that grows in the Himalayas and, unlike its western counterpart, it is larger and has a uniquely distinct flavour profile that can’t be replicated,” says Co-Founder & Master Distiller Anand Virmani. The experience of working with local communities and the desire to share the art with others led to Forager’s Championship – an initiative open to bartenders from India, Italy, the UK, and Thailand. The competition crowns one winner from each country, and they are then invited to the Himalayas to forage ingredients and create cocktails inspired by the mountain range.
Foraging is no longer just about chefs heading into the wild—it’s becoming a way for travellers to connect with food, land, and culture. JRNYON, a travel curation company founded by Sanjith Mukund, is working with chefs like Thomas to design intimate foraging tours.
“I see the chef’s role today as part translator, part bridge. We have access to platforms and an attentive audience, and with that comes responsibility,” says Thomas, who recently led guests on a trip through North-East India.
But he’s quick to note that these journeys must be tread carefully. “I think the idea of ‘foraging trips’ is a slippery slope. Done carelessly, it risks ecological harm and the exploitation of the very communities whose knowledge we claim to celebrate.”
Instead, Thomas shapes the experiences to be about listening, learning, and slowing down. “The experiences I help design are immersive journeys where participants learn from indigenous communities, observe seasonal and traditional harvesting practices, and engage with food more deeply. Foraging, when included, is only one small part of a much bigger conversation about land, culture, and reciprocity.”
While Anand hopes foraging will be embraced more widely within the industry, he believes such trips cultivate a deeper appreciation for where ingredients come from and why that connection matters. Sanjith, too, has observed a shift in the way people travel post-COVID. “People now have a deeper understanding and a wider exposure to different cuisines. I believe it has pushed them to travel for food, rather than see it just as a part of the journey,” he notes.
JRNYON has already hosted journeys curated by chefs such as Nambie Marak from Meghalaya, Johnson Ebanezer of Farmlore, Asma Khan, and Sapna Nair. These experiences don’t always revolve solely around foraging; instead, they open up broader explorations of food, land, and culture.
Which raises a provocative question: if everyone starts taking foraging trips, what then?
“Overharvesting a wild edible, especially something slow-growing or something that is scarce, like mushrooms or seaweed, can wipe out entire ecosystems,” says Niyati. Vanika highlights the popularity of sea buckthorns that grow in high-altitude regions like Ladakh and the challenges that the ingredient’s global popularity as a ‘superfood’ has brought. “In harsh winters, the sea buckthorns left usually as fencing of homes served as the only food source for many birds, and now it is all gone, leading to an ecological imbalance.”
On the tribal food trail in Goa’s beating lush heart, while guests learn to identify and pick ingredients to cook a meal from scratch, guided by locals, the experiential travel company, Soul Travelling, pays close attention to how many groups visit per month and changes locations to avoid foraging repeatedly in one place.
Thomas believes that, “While it’s easy to romanticise indigenous food, the harder, more necessary work is to sit with the complexities of history, politics, and fragility woven into every meal.” According to Niyati, the key is sustainable foraging, taking what you need, leaving the rest, and understanding what role that plant or organism plays in its natural environment. “If we don’t educate ourselves, it’s easy to slip from revival into exhaustion really soon,” she warns. Handled with sensitivity, foraging can move beyond novelty to become a practice of respect and responsibility — one that we hope India’s food enthusiasts shoulder with thought and grace.
