X user calls rasgulla ‘idli in sugar syrup’; Shashi Tharoor’s reply wins internet: ‘If this lady…’
Shashi Tharoor’s response to a viral rasgulla-versus-idli debate has sparked conversations about Indian food identity and the emotional connection people have with iconic dishes.
Shashi Tharoor defended idli in a viral food debate (Source: Express Photo by Tashi Tobgyal and Canva)What began as a playful social media debate over rasgulla and idli quickly turned into a larger conversation about food identity, regional pride and the cultural significance attached to everyday Indian dishes. The discussion started after a user named Sayantika posted about Bengali sweets like Misti Doi and Nolen Gurer Rosogolla, wondering how to explain their taste to someone unfamiliar with Bengali cuisine. In response, another X user, @crazyxedi, dismissed rasgulla as “nothing but an idli dipped in sugar syrup” and called it “the most overrated dessert.”
The remark soon caught the internet’s attention, especially after Congress MP Shashi Tharoor stepped into the debate with a characteristically elaborate defence of the idli. Responding to the comparison, Tharoor wrote, “Indeed! To conflate a Rasgulla with an Idli is not just a culinary error; it is a profound cosmological misunderstanding.” He went on to explain why the two foods are fundamentally different, adding, “She is comparing chhena (the delicate, squeaky, pristine curd of milk) with a meticulously fermented batter of parboiled rice and black gram (urad dal). Their compositions are from entirely different kingdoms.”
Tharoor further described rasgulla and idli not just as foods, but as products of entirely different culinary philosophies. “One is an airy, spongy lattice designed to trap light sugar syrup; the other is a dense, wholesome, steamed matrix of complex carbohydrates and proteins. Their taste, consistency, structural integrity, and existential purpose share absolutely nothing in common,” he wrote. He also passionately defended the idli’s cultural and nutritional importance, saying, “The Idli is not a mere ‘bland cake.’ It is a masterclass in biotechnology.”
Highlighting the science and craftsmanship behind fermentation, Tharoor added, “To achieve the perfect Idli is to balance the delicate microflora of wild fermentation over a cold night, resulting in a steamed cloud that is a triumph of gut health, lightness, and nutritional balance.” Calling it “a savoury monolith of South Indian culinary genius,” he argued that idli was “perfectly engineered to absorb the sharp tang of a well-spiced sambar or the fiery depth of a molaga-podi (gunpowder) paste infused with cold-pressed sesame oil or nutritious melted ghee.
He concluded with a humorous but firm defence of the dish’s identity: “To suggest an Idli would even consent to being drowned in sugar syrup is to fundamentally misunderstand its dignity.” Tharoor also remarked, “If this lady finds Rasgullas overrated, argue that on the merits of their sponginess or sweetness. But please, leave the noble, perfectly fermented, steamed majesty of the Idli out of your dessert-table polemics, ma’am!”
The exchange triggered amused and enthusiastic reactions online. One user commented: “Wah Tharoor saab waah maja aa gaye I am gonna eat some idli sambhar now let me order.” Another wrote: “As my eyes perused through this, my brain and belly conspired to ignite within my soul an urgent urge to devour a plateful of Idlis for dinner.” A third user joked: “Well said. Got me thinking though, what if we do dip Idli in sugar syrup. Yum yum.”
On comparing rasgulla to idli
Food author and chef Sadaf Hussain tells indianexpress.com, “The comparison is technically inaccurate because rasgulla and idli are fundamentally different dishes despite sharing a somewhat spongy texture.” He continued, “I don’t think rasgulla is comfort food in that sense. It’s a celebration… whereas idlis are a basic necessity of every morning.”
Concurring, celebrity chef Ananya Banerjee explains, “Rasgulla is made from chenna (curdled milk solids) kneaded into soft balls and simmered in light sugar syrup, giving it a spongy, airy texture that absorbs liquid, whereas idli is a steamed savory cake made from fermented rice and lentil batter, resulting in a grainy, porous structure; the cooking methods differ—rasgulla involves boiling in syrup while idli relies on steaming — and the ingredients, preparation, and mouthfeel are fundamentally distinct, making the analogy misleading.”
Chef Hussain also commented on the broader debate, saying comparisons like these can become unnecessary. He used the example of pancakes and luchi, saying that even dishes made from similar ingredients can be fundamentally different in identity and experience.
The emotional and regional significance
To understand why a comparison between idli and rasgulla sparks such a reaction, we have to look at food as a form of ‘cultural shorthand.’ Alok Singh, founder of Diga Organics and food science expert, Teria Ambedkar Uttar Pradesh, mentions, “When someone calls a rasgulla an ‘idli dipped in sugar syrup,’ they aren’t just making a culinary observation; they are unintentionally stripping away the distinct technical and cultural labour associated with those regions.”
In India, regional pride is often tied to the ‘Terroir’ and the specific techniques perfected over centuries. “The idli is the soul of the South—a symbol of patience, where the batter must sit through the night to capture wild yeasts. The rasgulla, particularly for Odias and Bengalis, represents a historical breakthrough in confectionery. In the 19th century, the Bengali technique of ‘chhena’ (curdling milk) was a revolutionary departure from the traditional Vedic aversion to ‘spoiled’ or split milk.”
When these dishes are trivialised, Singh notes that it feels like an attack on the collective memory of a community. “Food is often the first thing people take with them when they migrate and the last thing they give up as they assimilate.”
What actually makes a well-made idli so difficult to perfect despite its simple appearance?
Chef Hussain said the biggest factor is fermentation. “Everything depends on the fermentation itself.”
He explained that if fermentation goes wrong, the idlis can become dense rather than soft and airy. This is also why homemade idlis may not always turn out like restaurant versions.
“Factors like the rice-to-lentil ratio, fermentation quality, grinding texture, batter aeration and steaming time all have to align perfectly,” says Chef Banerjee, adding that even small variations in climate or fermentation can change the final texture dramatically.
According to Singh, Shashi Tharoor’s description of the idli as a “masterclass in biotechnology” is scientifically spot-on. Long before we had microscopes to see Lactobacillus or yeasts, Indian ancestors mastered the art of “controlled spoilage.”
In the context of Indian food history, he states that fermentation was the original preservation and nutrition-enhancement tool. In a tropical climate, fresh milk or cooked grains would spoil quickly. However, by inviting the right bacteria to the party, our ancestors could not only preserve food but also make it more digestible.
“The science behind the idli is incredible: the soaking of urad dal and rice encourages the growth of Leuconostoc mesenteroides and Lactobacillus bulgaricus. These microbes break down complex starches and neutralise ‘anti-nutrients’ like phytic acid, which otherwise prevent the body from absorbing minerals. This process also creates B-vitamins—essential nutrients that might be lacking in a simple grain-based diet,” he notes.
Historically, he says that this wasn’t seen as “lab work” but as “rhythm.” The placement of the stone grinder, the temperature of the kitchen, and even the touch of the hand (which introduces local microflora) were all part of an ancient biotechnological ritual. “Fermentation allowed for the creation of soft, leavened textures without the need for commercial yeast or chemical baking powder,”
