Outsourcing all the planning of a trip is not something I’d done before. For the trip to Ladakh we fixed the length of the stay, asked for two days of acclimatization, fixed a budget, and let an agent plan out the trip. As a result everything was a surprise. Fortunately, the hotels were pleasant surprises. We stayed in a superb hotel in Hunder, in the Nubra valley. Not only were the rooms utterly comfortable and pleasant, but also the architecture used only traditional materials and blended the structure into the landscape. And another perk, you could also eat on a terrace while looking out at a fantastic view.
The extreme heat of the previous few days had disappeared as soon as clouds blew in from the west. The temperature was just right with this cloud cover which did not result in rain. The only fly in the ointment? The menu had little in the way of Ladakhi food. Most guests were happy with parthas or idlis, geographical intruders, even if prepared well. The Family and I explored the small selection of local food. This hotel gave us a narrow view of the local food, a high window, if I have to keep using Raymond Chandler’s book titles to describe my exploration of the food of Ladakh.
There were two main choices for breakfast: either kisir, which is a buckwheat chilla/dosa (the nearest English word would be pancake, although the French word crepe is a better description), or our auld acquaintance, khambir. The kisir was served with tsemik, which a herbed yogurt, on the side, so you had your bit of carbohydrates, fat, and protein for breakfast. The khambir (featured photo) came with a dollop of a local cheese which resembled a slightly aged ricotta. This cheese is called chhurpi here, but that’s a word that I’ve met across the Himalayas. It refers to such a wide variety of cheeses that I take it as a generic word for any cheese made from Yak milk.
It was a little windy, and I was glad to stand in front of the oven where these things were made. I’ve said before that Ladakhi food is an interesting combination of Tibetan and Central Asian cuisines. The khambir is the pinnacle of this ancient fusion. The dough is made from whole wheat flour, and fermented for a few hours after adding yeast. Small balls of the dough are flattened directly on the hot surface of the stove. I’ve seen it being rolled, but that could be a 20th century innovation. The design of the stove is at least a couple of centuries old. Traditionally the cast iron stove sits in the middle of the house, keeping it warm, and serving to cook as well as reheat food. This lady used the older method of flattening the ball of flour directly on the hot surface (the khambir is more crusty this way). It is then finished off on the coals. I had it with chhurpi, but it also tastes wonderful in the usual breakfast combination, with salty yak-butter tea.
Don't hold your breath 