A–Z Ingredient Guide: Fiddlehead Fern – The Foraged Favourite That Twirls Through Regional Kitchens And Local Lore

On a recent work trip to Shillong, I got my first taste of the fiddlehead fern. I had heard about the ingredient a few months before, and since then had been curious about its taste profile. At Rynsan, a restaurant that celebrates the local Northeast flavours at Laitumkhrah in Shillong, I tried the Wild Fern Salad, which had fiddlehead fern, seasonal greens, and crushed roasted peanuts. It was the second-best thing I had that night, the first being the perilla pasta. It was refreshing, a little bit on the bitter side, yet delicious. I knew right then that it was the perfect choice for our next ingredient. 

The fiddlehead fern is one of those ingredients that arrives with the signal of a season changing. Curled like a violin scroll and bright with the promise of fresh growth, it appears in local markets just as the air shifts, spring in the Northeast, early monsoon in the Himalayan belt. For many, its arrival is a moment. A sign that the forest has awakened, the rivers are fuller, and the flavours of the season are finally here.

Across India’s hilly terrains, from the lush folds of the Northeast to the cool, pine-scented slopes of Uttarakhand and Himachal, fiddlehead ferns grow freely along riversides, forest trails, and shaded slopes. They’re foraged more than farmed, gathered by people who know exactly when the season will turn and where the freshest shoots will unfurl.

The fern carries many names depending on where you encounter it. Botanically, it is known as Diplazium esculentum, whereas Assam calls it Dhekia Xaak, a staple in homestyle stir-fries. The Himalayan region knows it as Lingri or Lingdu. In Sikkim and Darjeeling, it becomes Niguro. In Meghalaya, it is known as Tyrkhang. Across Nagaland, Manipur, and Mizoram, it is recognised instantly even as the names shift from village to village. In Uttarakhand, as my mother tells me on a WhatsApp text written in Garhwali, they are found near cool water bodies and called Lingde. Each name holds its own sense of belonging, a reminder that this wild green has lived in regional kitchens far longer than it has lived in food conversations.

Despite its wild-foraged mystique, the fiddlehead fern is wonderfully straightforward in the kitchen. During one of our food talks in Shillong, Riyaki Jana, a culinary entrepreneur and the creative brain behind Rynsan in Shillong, told me all about the curled fern. They grow this right on their farm, and it is a commonly used ingredient in many of the local dishes.

On the best way to capture the fern's taste, she says, “A simple but delicious way is to blanch the ferns for a few minutes before drying them and then sautéing them in light olive oil and crushed garlic. The cooked ferns are finally tossed with thinly sliced onions and tomatoes, seasoned with salt, pepper and chilli flakes as per taste.” She adds a gentle reminder that speaks to its nature: “They must be cooked thoroughly before being eaten.”

On another work trip, this time to Ladakh, I met Grace Muivah, the Brand Experience Lead at Bright Hospitality and founder of Ngarum Coffee, who wishes more people knew about these gentle ferns. She insists, “They’re actually very comforting in flavour, they're not exotic or intimidating at all,” Muivah says. “They’re light, nutritious, and easy to cook with, which makes them perfect for everyday meals, not just special occasions.” To her, "they feel surprisingly familiar, like a green you’ve always known, you just didn’t have a name for it."

The best way to have them? Muivah has a great recommendation. She says, “I really love them in a simple stir-fry with perilla oil, axone (Naga fermented soy bean) and a little bamboo shoot water. The ferns are lightly blanched and then quickly tossed so they retain their bite and gentle earthy bitterness. The bamboo shoot water adds a subtle sourness and depth, while the perilla oil brings a nutty, aromatic warmth. Axone gives the dish its quiet umami – very rooted and home-style. The overall taste is earthy, slightly bitter, gently sour, and deeply savoury, clean but layered. Best enjoyed simply with steamed rice."

Curl In The Indian Culinary Scene

The fiddlehead fern’s significance lies not in trendiness but in its groundedness. It is hyper-seasonal, defiantly local, and tied to land in a way few ingredients still are. In regions where it grows, it marks time: the beginning of spring, the thick of monsoon, the arrival of fresh forage.

Its importance is also emotional. Families wait for it. Markets anticipate it. Cooks plan meals around it. And as Muivah puts it, it brings a sense of recognition: “When they arrive, it really feels like spring on a plate.” The fern embodies India’s tradition of foraging, a practice of gathering what the land offers, cooking intuitively, and celebrating flavours that don’t need embellishment or restaurant reinvention.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by A Cook On The Loose I Swati (@acookontheloose)

Along with its flavour and cultural presence, the fern is naturally nourishing. Jana points to its inherent richness: “Fiddlehead ferns are extremely rich in nutrients, antioxidants, and omega-3 fatty acids.” It’s the kind of green that feels as good as it tastes, light, fibrous, easy to digest, and seasonally aligned with what the body instinctively craves during those months.

To eat fiddlehead fern in India is to taste the season itself, the forest after rain, the mountains waking from winter, the quiet knowledge of generations who have cooked with it long before food writing found the words. It’s fleeting, fragile, and completely unpretentious. And that’s its power: it doesn’t demand attention, yet somehow becomes unforgettable long after the season has slipped away.

The A–Z Ingredient Guide is ELLE Gourmet India’s monthly series celebrating the rich tapestry of regional Indian ingredients and the many ways they’re cooked across homes and cultures. Each month, we celebrate a new ingredient. Stay tuned as we explore the next ingredient soon!