Kadhi Finds a Way: Across Climates, Cultures, and Kitchens
On the dusty highlanes between Jaipur and Ganganagar, try stopping at a dhaba for lunch and order your usuals, some dal, a sabzi, roti. To your pleasant surprise (at least it would be for me), you’ll likely be served a complimentary bowl of kadhi. “Yaha kadhi ke paise nahi lete,” you don’t pay for kadhi here, someone will say. It will be a simple, no-pretense recipe: thin, light, and full of chaach. In villages of Ganganagar, finding a commercial dairy is a task in itself, because most people have their own cattle and ample milk, kadhi comes with almost every meal. But the dish is actually very special to the whole state. It is to the North what dal (or its many variations) is to the rest of the country.
Although the pervasive nature of Kadhi is almost amusing, it is believed to have originated in Rajasthan, a result of and shaped by the land and climate. With limited access to fresh vegetables, people relied heavily on dairy, especially buttermilk, leading to the making of this dish. From Rajasthan, kadhi spread to Gujarat, Punjab and the Sindh region. Traditionally, it was made when households had surplus milk, which was churned into butter, leaving behind buttermilk (chaas) for kadhi. In Pakistan too, in the Thar region of Sindh, it's consumed and commonly known as raabro or khaatiyo, names you’ll hear in the bordering parts of Rajasthan as well.
Ayurveda points to the cooling properties of buttermilk, which help with digestion and balance body heat, especially important in Rajasthan’s dry climate. While chickpea flour or besan is commonly used today, older recipes often called for bajre ka aata or makki ka atta depending on the geography.
Across states and borders
Across regions, kadhi has taken on many forms: the Punjabi version is hearty, with deep-fried besan pakode; Gujarati kadhi is lighter and sweeter, often made with jaggery or sugar, flavoured with ginger, green chillies, and sometimes even peanuts. In Maharashtra, there’s sol kadhi, made with kokum and coconut milk, while in Sindh, tamarind adds a tangy kick.
But this dish isn’t just found in India. The fact of migration (both forced and voluntary) and indentured Indians across former colonies of Britain, means that our foods have travelled across oceans and taken on lives of their own. In Trinidad and Tobago, a version of kadhi known as kurhi has become a part of the local Indo-Caribbean food culture, brought by migrants from Uttar Pradesh, Bihar, and Jharkhand in the 19th and early 20th centuries. It’s still a staple at Hindu religious events, weddings, poojas, and yajnas. Unlike the Indian version, kurhi is made with ground yellow split peas instead of besan, and includes small fritters called pholouries (often nicknamed “boulders”) that are cooked directly in the simmering curry.
But while kadhi is found across the country, and even far beyond, Rajasthan’s connection to it feels innate. Unlike most versions that use curd, a traditional Rajasthani kadhi is made with chaach (buttermilk), making it thinner, lighter, and more refreshing. It's tempered in ghee with mustard seeds, cumin, dry red chillies, and a hint of hing, simple flavours that speak of the region’s no-fuss, resourceful cooking. Served hot with rice, bajra roti, or khichdi, it’s a dish that holds a central place in the everyday meal.
Amchur ki Kadhi, a family recipe from Jaipur
However, nothing is ever a monolith, and no recipe is ever The One. From the streets of Ajmer, where kadhi is poured over crisp moong dal kachoris, to home kitchens in Gujarat where it’s made with mangoes in summer or arni flowers in winter, kadhi shows up in many forms. Some versions are festive, others are seasonal, and a few are shaped by rituals or what’s growing nearby.
Different communities across regions have adapted kadhi in ways that reflect their philosophies of life. The Jain community, for instance, practises strict restraint in their diet, avoiding root vegetables like onion and garlic to prevent harm to the plant. While not as common today, older generations within the community sometimes also gave up dairy, leading to vegan adaptations of familiar dishes. Vartika Jain from Jaipur shares her great-grandmother’s kadhi recipe:
“She used to live with us,” Vartika shares. “And during Badhwa (Bhadra: August to September), everyone in our community focus to get closer to the divine, follow things more strictly, especially when it comes to food. So, a lot of elders would give up one ingredient for the day, dairy, green vegetables, ghee, oil, sugar, salt... things like that.”
“On days my great grandmother gave up dairy and green vegetables, my mother would make this kadhi for her. The sourness came from dried amchur or amla, instead of buttermilk or curd. The rest was pretty much the same: cook oil with whole spices like rai, daana methi, sabut lal mirch, hing, and then add chilli powder. No turmeric. And instead of mixing besan with dahi, water was used. Once it started boiling, she’d add the dried amla or amchur and let it slow cook for 30 to 40 minutes. She’d eat it just like that. For the rest of us, my mother would temper some spices in ghee and add it at the end.”
“There was no kadi patta or dhaniya either, because on those days she was avoiding greens too,” Vartika adds. “The colour would be this soft brown-grey, not the usual yellow because there was no haldi.”
She remembers it being served with a special chutney made with dried coconut, red chillies, and dry khajoor, all soaked together and then ground on a silbatta with a bit of salt. “That’s how she liked it. And that’s how I ate it too, even though everyone else had their own food.”
“It’s been years since I had it. I should probably ask my mother to make some for me now,” she laughs.
