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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.

By Zawad Arif Arian

Photo: LS Archive / Sazzad Ibne Sayed