Ishee'z Kitchen

For me, silam (perilla seed) carries the quiet weight of memory, of my muma (grandmother) and long winter vacations spent in the sun. I can still see muma showing me how to pour a little into my palm, use my index finger to gather the seeds, and tip them straight into my mouth. That’s the only way I remember eating it. Not as a chutney, not mixed into anything, just silam, eaten slowly while sitting in the sun, as if it were meant only for winter afternoons.

It was much later, watching how Koreans used the leaves or seeing silam turned into chutney in other homes, that I began to explore those versions. I learned new ways to eat it, new contexts for it. But my favourite has never changed. It will always be the way my muma taught me, crunchy, nutty, and quietly, deeply delicious.

The dried eel that was brought from Nagaland looked unassuming, carrying the scent of hills and smoke. The moment it hit the pan…wowowowowow. A bold, razor-sharp flavour burst out, unmistakably fishy, deeply savoury, and completely unforgettable. It earned its place instantly on our Nagaland shopping list.

And it reminded us of something important: Nagaland is far more than smoked pork and axone. There are a thousand ingredients still waiting…hidden to be tasted, understood, and cooked with respect.