Meal in the Valley - Nongtraw, Part 1

The evening I stayed in Nongtraw, I climbed 2,300 steps down into the valley for my meal! And yes, members of all 42 homes in the village, including young children and elders, actually go up and down every single day!

2,300 steps lead down to Nongtraw village

Nongtraw is a small village near Sohra or Cherrapunjee. And like many other villages in the hilly state of Meghalaya, it is only accessible by a long, steep flight of stairs. Having visited a village in the hills, it was now time for me to experience the food of lower altitudes.

Don, a resident of the village, took us down to his cousin’s home where we would stay the night. As we reached the end of what seemed to me like never ending steps, and entered the village, we began being introduced to the various plants and trees.

This village too, has a rich biodiversity, full of edible treasures. Don showed us Meghalaya cherry or black cherry trees all over the village, which were nearing the end of their fruiting season. These black cherries, called sohiong, or ‘black fruit’ in Khasi, were sweet and tart, with a large stone in the centre. Later, our host’s mother would feed us the most delicious jam made out of these cherries.

Some tall shrubs of tea and coffee were also growing around the village, but they weren’t local to this region, and Don told us that they were never really harvested.

Soon afterward, we reached the home of Don’s cousin Bah Jop and his family, who were hosting us that evening.

Bah Jop's home

Nongtraw and two of it’s neighboring villages practice jhum farming, which is a traditional shifting cultivation method, on the surrounding hills. They grow a huge variety of food crops that feed them throughout the year. What doesn’t grow here is purchased from the weekly haat in Sohra.

After we freshened up at his home, Bah Jop took us to meet Pius, an associate at NESFAS, who works with jhum and agro-ecology. I spent at least an hour in his home, learning about jhum in Nongtraw. More on that in another post...

The jhum fields on the hills surrounding Nongtraw

Being my inquisitive self, I asked Pius so many questions that I lost track of time. I had promised Bah Jop’s mother that I would return soon to watch and help her cook dinner. But by the time we got back the meal was ready.

What I loved about my host family in Nongtraw was how truly at home they made me feel. Bah Jop, only a couple of years older than me, was extremely enthusiastic about sharing information about his village and it’s local cuisine. He told me all sorts of stories about the birds and the bees... NO, not those stories!! About how they are eaten, I mean! And about bats. And sometimes rats, too! Bats, called lym buit, are a rare and delicious meat, I was told, found only in the caves a few hills away.

He told me, “my family is your family, do not feel shy. My sister is your sister.” He insisted that I should call his mother “Mei”, as he did, in Khasi.

I spent the whole evening in their warm kitchen, asking about all the different crops they grow, what they cook and how they cook. Unlike the two-part homes in Mawpdai, the compact kitchen here was part of the main house. The wood-fired cooking alcove was at floor level, and in front of it sat Mei, on a small bamboo stool, blowing away through a bamboo pipe at the flames. There were always two kettles either on or beside the fire – one for hot drinking water, and the other for red root tea, drunk multiple times through the day.

The two kettles, one for tea and one for hot water; and a small alcove between the hearth and the chimney used to smoke foods

Right above the stove was a small alcove closed by a wooden door. In this region where there was no concept of refrigerators, this was the traditional food preservation chamber. Although leftover food was seldom stored for the next day, some food items like meat or boiled tubers needed to be preserved. These would be kept in a bamboo basket in this alcove, and would get slowly smoked as as the smoke drifted through it towards the chimney. That evening, in the smoking alcove, were some doh pi --- Frogs!

Fresh, cleaned doh pi

After a long chat about food, we finally got ready to eat dinner.

In Nongtraw, it seemed like the whole village was one big family. Neighbours would drop in for dinner in each other’s homes unannounced, and there would always be enough food for everyone. That evening, while Bah Jop disappeared to eat dinner at a friend’s home, another neighbor and the Headman of the village joined us.

We had requested Mei not to cook a guest’s meal for us, so that I could learn about the local home food.

The meal

So on the table was:

- Pork fry - the most simple pork dish I’ve ever come across, it had just 4 ingredients – turmeric, ginger, salt, and pork! This was another one of my favourite dishes on the trip – its simplicity was what made it so delicious

- Doh pi – frog legs, in another simple preparation -- cooked with only mustard oil and onions. This was the first time I tried frog legs. As apprehensive as I was, looking at those tiny limbs, I remembered my personal policy to ‘try everything at least once’. And I’m glad I did, because I loved the tender, delicate meat that just melted in my mouth!

Doh pi, or frog legs

- Potato stir-fried with mustard oil, turmeric, and chilies 

- Raw tamarillo chutney – the tart raw fruit, slightly charred on the surface over the wood fire, and then roughly mashed with onions, tomatoes and salt, made for a mouth watering accompaniment (literally, from its sour tang!)

Tart tamarillo chutney

- Accompaniments of boiled country eggs with bright yellow yolks, some sliced tomatoes, and a bowl of salt were also laid out.

There isn't a single shop in Nongtraw, so everything must be bought from Sohrarim, the village at the top of the steps, or from the weekly Sohra haat. Salt is supplied to the village by a vendor who, every now and then, comes down the 2,300 steps carrying 50 odd one-kilo packets on his shoulders. He earns a commission of a few rupees per packet for his efforts, but is invited for some food or a cup of tea to the homes of his customers along the way.

The vendor, who had trundled down the unlit steps late in the evening, left his supply of salt outside the house and stepped in for some tea. 

- And there was, of course, the mainstay of all Khasi meals – rice.

Mei served us with love, and watched with motherly satisfaction as we relished the meal she had made.

With Bah Jop and Mei outside their home

The next morning, before taking the above photo, we were fed wonderous things from the family's jhum fields for breakfast. But there's a whole other story to that, so more in the next one!