Chetan Swadisht Kachoris
An abbreviated version of the story originally appeared on Instagram @thefinelychopped 27/3/25.
’Chetan Puri’ was the unanimous answer when I landed in Dehradun & asked where I should go for local food.
‘You don’t get anything ‘local’ here, they said. ‘Mainly momos and Maggi.’
It’s common to dismiss momos as a fad. Still, its existence is somewhat organic, here, said Lokesh Ohri, renowned for his ‘slow walks’ in Dehradun, in his session at the Dehradun Food Literature Festival. He noted that momos appeared in the streets of Dehradun after the Garhwal Regiment was deployed here. Momos formed a part of the soldiers’ diet & were adopted by locals. He had no hypothesis, beyond ‘good marketing by Nestle’, to explain the popularity of Maggi, though. He said that he just wished that the profusion of Maggi this did lead to the plastic wrapper litter menace that’s rampant across the hills.
Here’s a thought. Can the folks at Nestle do something about this? Incentivise collection and recycling. How is that for CSR?
This story is not about the 2Ms, momo, or Maggi. It’s about a sparse and iconic eatery named Chetan Swadisht Kachori.
I went there on my last morning in Dehradun before I took my flight home. Shruti Gupta & Abhishek Goyal, the young couple who are the second-generation owners of LP Residency, took me there. LP Residency was the sponsor of the Dehradun Food Literature Festival. The organisers, Rushina Munshaw Ghildayal and Shruti Gupta, had invited me to speak in a panel discussion on regional Indian food. Rushina is an old friend of mine from my early days of blogging. Shruti and Abhishek were my new friends; we had connected from the moment we met. They are obsessed with food.
With Abhishek and Shruti
They have tried to up the food quotient at LP Residency, which Abhishek’s father founded. They have a restaurant called ‘Monsoon’ which offers dishes from across India. There is a section on Pahari food, the food of the region, curated by Rushina. I was floored by the food I had there, some of which were sattu paratha with baigan chokha from Bihar, bun kebab from Bhopla, Madurai bun maska and Bengaluru’s thatte idli. The flavours were on point, and the food was wholesome. Then they have Coco Osteria, which does artisanal pizzas, lovely pastas, and brilliant desserts. It recently won an award in the NDTV Food Awards. I didn’t get to eat Wasabae, where they do sushi and dim sum. Oh, and they do fabulous coffee, which is not what one would expect in Dehradun! This story is not about the ‘new stars’ of Dehradun food. It is about one of the city’s legends, Chetan Swadisht Kachori.
Kachoris have to be had fresh off the kadhai.
Chetan is located in a narrow lane in old Dehradun. Shruti and Abhishek were as excited as I was to be there. They are Chetan kachori fans. Apparently, that is the only ‘outside food’ that Abhishek’s dad, who is wedded to the food cooked at home, deigns to have. They get Chetan kachoris delivered through apps. They ask for kachoris to be half-fried and then refry then at home. That is a compromise of course, as the only way to do justice to puris/ kachoris is to have them fresh off the kadhai.
They were frying kachoris at the entrance of Chetan, and the aromas gave me the appetite of a baby elephant (a teacher in primary school had called me that; the concept of ‘fat shaming’ did not exist in the early 1980s).
The entrance to Chetan reminded me of Kanha Sweets in Amritsar, as you will find folks frying puris at the entrance. The puris at Kanha are massive, like the ears of Dumbo the elephant.
How’s that for sustainability?
A waiter pointed us to a table. Abhishek placed our order at the counter and joined Shruti and me. Sal leaf plates were placed in front of us. More environment friendly than Maggi packets, not they can be compared.
A waiter served us a wet potato sabzi, a dry potato sabzi, chhole and curry. Then an elderly waiter doddered up to us with a big stainless steel bowl filled with freshly fried, piping hot kachoris. We started with two each, and then us boys had one more each, while Shruti stuck to two. The kachoris were nice and crunchy, and the filling inside amplified the taste. The pumpkin curry, which was sweet and sour, reminded me of Bengali tomato chutney in terms of taste. My favourite combination was with the sukha (dry) potato bhaji. It always is. What made it more special, as Shruti pointed it out, is that the aloo was cooked in the skin. Just as they are in the kachori shops of Kolkata, whose origins lie in the kachori traditions of UP. Dehradun has a significant Bengali population. I am sure that kachori alu at Chetan would remind them as home, as it did me.
In sum, the food was brilliant. The experience memorable.
My sort of place. With me kind of friends.
Abhishek and Shruti’s babies
Dear Gen Z and Millennials, Google Chetan Sharma to understand the meaning behind the heading.
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