Fresh catch from the ocean in Bengaluru
On any given Saturday morning in the tree-lined avenues of Kammanahalli, an observant passerby will notice a distinct ritual playing out near Mangalore Fish Stall, known for sourcing fish from the Konkan coast
On any given Saturday morning in the tree-lined avenues of Kammanahalli, an observant passerby will notice a distinct ritual playing out near Mangalore Fish Stall, known for sourcing fish from the Konkan coast. Here, you find shoppers, male and female who inspect fresh mackerel (bangda), kingfish (anjal), pomfret (manji), prawns and crabs with a sharp eye. They are looking for specific indicators of freshness: bright, unclouded eyes, firm silver flanks that spring back under pressure, and the faint, sweet scent of the open ocean.

There are two types of fish-eaters: those that love freshwater fish like the Bengalis, and those who love fish from the ocean like those from the Konkan coast. The Konkani-speaking Saraswat Brahmin community is somewhat of an anomaly, much like the Bengali Brahmins. Their cuisine is pesco-vegetarian, with subtle gravies, distinct spices, souring agents, and a love for coconut. “For us, coconut is the primary ingredient,” says Kalpana Nayak, a Goud Saraswat Brahmin (GSB) who lives in Sahakar Nagar. “We need one coconut a day in our cooking, starting with our morning chutneys and going into our ghassis and sweets.”
I met Kalpana because her husband, Dr Rabindra Nayak is a reputed orthodontist in Bangalore, and treated my children. He also happens to be one of the nicest and more generous human beings, offering free treatment and braces for the underprivileged. Through the Nayaks, I got an inroad into the cuisine that originated in the Saraswati river.
GSBs and their sister community, the Chitrapur Saraswat Brahmins (CSB), more commonly just called Saraswat Brahmins, are prominent in the city and boast many celebrities. Deepika Padukone, Guru Maya Rao, and Nandan Nilekani, for instance, are CSBs, while the Kamaths who founded Zerodha, Girish Karnad, Ananth and Shankar Nag, and Vittal Mallya all belong to the GSB community.
Saraswat cuisine however, is not well known in Bangalore. When I asked Tara Kini, a famous musician who is a GSB for restaurants serving her cuisine, she came up with exactly one name: Namma Kudla in Malleshwaram. “Most of us eat Konkani food at home, and so when we go out, we want to eat other food,” says Tara with a laugh.
There are two types of Saraswats: the strictly vegetarian ones like Tara and the ones who enjoy fish. Saraswat fish curries are milder and more delicate in flavour compared to the robust, chilli-heavy red curries of their coastal Bunt or Mangalorean Catholic neighbors. Coconut milk and finely ground coconut paste form the base for their fish dishes. Their vegetarian repertoire begins with dalitoy, a simple, deeply comforting dal made from yellow split pigeons peas (tuvar dal), simmered with slit green chillies, and finished with a crackling tempering of mustard seeds, curry leaves, and a generous pinch of high-grade asafoetida (hingu). This dish serves as the emotional baseline for every GSB home in Bengaluru. “Rice, dal and a curry (which Konkanis call upkari, are what we call as our kuladeva: sheetha dali upkari,” says Tara.
Konkan heritage involves one of the most remarkable food migrations in South Asian history. Lore and history traces them to the banks of the ancient, mythical Saraswati river. When the river dried up around the 2nd millennium BCE, a community of people initiated a massive, centuries-long Southern migration. They settled in the tropical estuaries and mangrove creeks of Gomantak (Goa). Once strictly vegetarian, the abundance of seafood all around caused them to adapt and sample these new foods by classifying them as Jala Kaayi or “vegetables of the sea.” In fact, one cloud kitchen that serves seafood dishes in Bangalore’s Kodigehalli is called Jhalke: the coastal catch.
In the 16th century, following the arrival of the Portuguese and the enforcement of the Goa Inquisition starting in 1560, thousands of Saraswat families packed their bronze vessels, stone grinders, and sacred family deities (Kula Devatas like Mangeshi, Venkataramana, and Shantadurga) into wooden boats. Sailing south along the Konkan line, they sought refuge in the territories of the Keladi and Nayaka rulers of coastal Karnataka—settling in the port towns of Karwar, Honnavar, Bhatkal, Udupi, and Mangalore.
When the rapid industrial expansion, banking boom, and administrative consolidation of Bengaluru drew thousands of coastal migrants inland during the early to mid-twentieth century, the Saraswat Brahmins moved once more. They brought with them their complete, self-contained food universe. Theirs was actually a coastal larder heavily dependent on coconut, wild souring agents, indigenous peppers, and sea fish. This maritime tropical cuisine was adapted to the chilly, high-altitude climate of the Deccan plateau.
Today, Konkanis thrive in Bengaluru and buy their ingredients at stores scattered throughout Mangaluru. Visit one to sample their delicious dishes. I’d recommend starting with the pathrode.
(Shoba Narayan is a Bengaluru-based award-winning author. She is also a freelance contributor who writes about art, food, fashion and travel for a number of publications)
ABOUT THE AUTHORShoba NarayanShoba Narayan is Bangalore-based award-winning author. She is also a freelance contributor who writes about art, food, fashion and travel for a number of publications.

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