Indrajit Lahiri: Founder, Foodka | Author & Entrepreneur

Q1. When you think of Kolkata, what’s the first food memory that comes to mind, and why has it stayed with you all these years?

When I think of Kolkata, the first thing that comes to mind is mutton biryani. My relationship with it has evolved over the years. As a child, it was something special, a meal associated with family outings, celebrations and spending time with my parents. Today, it’s almost an everyday comfort food. But every time I have a plate of Kolkata biryani, it takes me back to those early memories. I think that’s the beauty of food, it evolves with you, but it never lets go of the emotions attached to it.

Q2. You’ve spent years documenting food stories across Bengal. What’s one Kolkata food story that completely changed the way you look at the city?

What fascinates me most about Kolkata is how strongly it holds on to its food memories. Even after two or three decades, people still speak about certain dishes, eateries and flavours with the same affection. At the same time, the city has embraced newer influences, whether it’s Korean food, barbecue culture, pizzas or the ever-growing popularity of roadside biryani. Kolkata has this unique ability to welcome new tastes without letting go of its culinary identity. That balance between nostalgia and evolution is what makes the city’s food culture so distinctive.

Q3. Every Kolkata person has a food memory that instantly takes them home. What’s the first memory that comes to mind when you think of Kolkata?

For me, it’s standing outside school with a plate of aloo kabli or roadside aloo dum in hand. Those weren’t just snacks, they were part of growing up in Kolkata. It’s a memory shared by so many people from the city, and even today, those simple street-side flavours have the power to transport me back to my childhood in an instant.

Q4. When Foodka began nearly a decade ago, did you ever imagine that the work would one day take you to an international platform like London Mahotsav to speak about Bengali food and culture?

Never. Foodka began as a passion project driven purely by curiosity. We weren’t chasing a destination or working towards an international stage, we simply wanted to tell the stories behind food that we felt deserved to be told. Over the years, that curiosity took us to countless kitchens, streets, communities and conversations, each adding a new layer to our understanding of food and culture. Looking back today, it’s incredibly humbling to realise that the same journey has led to an opportunity to represent Bengali food and culture in London. It reinforces my belief that if you stay committed to meaningful work, opportunities often find you when you least expect them.

Q5. Foodka has always been about the stories behind the food rather than just the food itself. What has been the most memorable story you’ve uncovered over the years?

It’s difficult to choose just one because, over the years, through Foodka and my work across the food and hospitality ecosystem, I’ve had the opportunity to witness countless inspiring journeys. The stories that stay with me the most are often the ones that never make headlines, small family-run kitchens, third-generation sweet makers, street vendors who’ve spent decades perfecting a single dish, or entrepreneurs quietly keeping a legacy alive. One such journey that will always stay with me is watching a modest home kitchen evolve into a large-scale food and hospitality enterprise. Seeing that transformation from a handful of home-cooked meals to serving people at scale was a reminder that every successful food business begins with someone’s dream. That’s also one of the reasons we created our Unsung Heroes series to document the people behind small cabins, neighbourhood eateries and humble food businesses who have been feeding generations, often without ever receiving the recognition they deserve. Those journeys remind me that food is never just about recipes. It’s about resilience, identity, tradition and people. Those are the stories I find myself returning to, time and again.

Q6. You’re heading to London’s Bengali neighbourhoods to meet members of the diaspora. What are you most curious to discover about how Bengali food and traditions have evolved away from home?

More than the food itself, I’m curious about the emotions attached to it. I want to understand what people miss most about Bengal, the traditions they’ve managed to preserve, and the ones that have naturally evolved over time. Food has an incredible way of carrying memories across generations and across continents. I’m looking forward to seeing how Bengali families in London have recreated a little piece of home for themselves, and what those stories reveal about identity, belonging and the idea of home itself.

Q7. What do you think changes first when Bengali food travels abroad—the recipe, the ingredients, or the memories attached to it?

I think the ingredients change first because people naturally adapt to what’s locally available. Over time, recipes may evolve too. But the memories rarely change. In fact, I think they become even stronger. For many people living away from home, food isn’t just about taste, it’s a way of staying connected to their childhood, their family and their roots. That’s why even a slightly different version of a familiar dish can carry the same emotional value.

Q8. In an era dominated by quick content and fleeting trends, why do you think deeply local, long-form storytelling continues to resonate with audiences?

Long-form storytelling stays with people because it gives them context. A short video can show you what something looks like, but a longer story helps you understand why it matters. It’s also far more archival.

Even from a creator’s perspective, I find it much easier to revisit or search for something I created years ago on platforms like YouTube or a blog than on Instagram or Facebook. On short-form platforms, content moves so quickly that valuable stories often get buried over time. Long-form content, on the other hand, remains searchable, discoverable and relevant for years.

Quick content captures attention, but long-form storytelling builds understanding. If we want future generations to know how we ate, celebrated and lived, someone has to document those stories in depth. For me, long-form storytelling will always remain the strongest medium for preserving food, culture and history.

Q9. If you had just one day to introduce a Londoner to Kolkata through its food, where would you take them and what would be on the menu?

I’d take them on a food walk through North Kolkata. It’s impossible to understand the city by sitting in one restaurant. I’d want them to experience telebhaja from an old shop, kachori and alur torkari in the morning, Kolkata biryani, sweets from heritage establishments, street snacks and everything in between. More importantly, I’d introduce them to the people behind those foods, because that’s where the real stories of Kolkata live.

Q10. From the streets of Kolkata to the streets of London, what does this journey mean—not just for you, but for the idea that local stories can find a global audience?

To me, this journey isn’t just about Foodka or about me. I don’t see Foodka as just a media platform. I see it as an ecosystem where storytelling, food entrepreneurship, culture and community come together. If our work can help preserve regional culinary narratives, support food entrepreneurs and encourage more people to document their own food cultures, then we’ve created something much larger than content.

I also hope this sends a message to storytellers working in regional languages and niche spaces. You don’t have to imitate global narratives to reach a global audience. Sometimes, the more deeply you understand your own culture, the more universally your stories connect.