Bhorta proves you do not need fancy food to be happy

Vegetables dressed with pungent mustard oil and raw onions — bhorta is an emotion every Bangladeshi can connect to. It never fails to astonish me how a hand-pressed ball of three ingredients transports me back to my happy place.

My mother tempering blackened dried red chillies in pure mustard oil to make the simple yet flavourful aloo bhorta, or mashed potatoes. Not to be confused with the western mashed potatoes, which are made with butter and cream. Not saying it's bad in any way, but it can never beat the spice of our “deshi” version.

We all argue about what makes us Bangladeshi. Some say it's our festivals, some say it’s our traditions, and I think we can all agree that our love for flavourful food makes us Bangladeshi, and bhorta is definitely up there in that list.

Image

Bhorta is not made with meticulous steps in Michelin-star kitchens. Think about it. They are not fancy or stressful, and don't need two days of preparation. You take whatever is lying around. Potatoes, eggplants, shutki, even beef or chicken. We can and will turn anything into bhorta. Surprisingly enough, vegetable peels work too!

On a philosophical note, that’s basically the Bangladeshi personality. Life throws problems? Mash it. Mix it. Add a little spice. Carry on.

The simple presentation of bhorta reflects our laidback attitude. No complicated plating techniques, no finishing touches. Just place it on a plate with enough heat and mustard oil for your lips and ears to overheat, and it's good to go.

Image

To me, it is a mirror of our hearts. It doesn’t take much to make us Bangladeshis happy. All we need is food, friends, family and sleep, just like how a bhorta only needs some daal and rice.

Bhorta is what connects us back to our roots. No upscale dining can ever satisfy the craving of a good, fiery bhorta. For many expatriates and international students living away from home, it is a portal that takes them back home, a dinner table surrounded by loved ones.

The humble dish transcends social divides and unites us all. A great leveller, everyone, from a millionaire business tycoon to the hardworking day labourer, finds comfort in a dollop of their liking.

Many argue and attempt to pinpoint what makes a good dish. We can debate for hours on end. Some say it's the ingredients, some argue it's the order you mash it in, and some culinary “researchers” will assert that it's the temperature of the oil that makes the difference. To me, the hand making the bhorta is the make-or-break. Everyone swears that their mother or grandmother makes the best bhorta, and no one can come close.

While I am certain each bhorta tastes immaculate, I think the memories matter more than ingredients. The memories attached to the process might be what makes it taste the way it does. Making bhorta with my mother is a core childhood memory for me, which makes aloo bhorta the best in existence in my humble opinion.

That’s the beauty. No two bhortas are the same. Each is uniquely individual, just like how we Bangladeshis are. No two of us are the same, but we are no different. To those who think a small country like Bangladesh does not have a significant impact, to them, I urge, just try our bhortas and your perspective will change for good.