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Lohri 2026: Indian Chefs On Their Celebrations Through Food And Tradition

We spoke to restaurateurs and chefs about their favourite memories of the festival of harvest, and how they continue to celebrate Lohri in their homes

Contributed By

Muskan Kaur

January 20, 2026

Lohri, the festival of harvest, is celebrated with pomp and show across parts of North India.

Lohri, the festival of harvest, is celebrated with pomp and show across parts of North India.

Lohri often arrives toasty, in the peak of the North Indian winter, bringing with it all the comfort and warmth we’ve been craving during the chilliest bend of the year. 

While Lohri’s fire is a result of age-old traditions that involve burning away evil to welcome all the goodness and abundance of spring, one cannot help but thank whoever thought of the sheer practicality of celebrating this festival in this peculiar way. Every year, we gather around the Lohri—the festival’s wild bonfire—with our friends and family, snacking on moongphalli (peanuts), gajjak, rewari, and popcorn, and chatting away as the fire slowly melts. We dance around the centre, singing songs of celebration, abundance, good health, and harvest, welcoming all the goodness that the new year has in store for us. While initially the festival celebrated agricultural harvest, it has today transformed into a more metaphorical harvest, suggesting goodness in all forms in our daily lives. 

For most of us, Lohri is all about the crackle of a bonfire against January’s cold, the sound of our loved ones’ laughter drifting through winter evenings, and hands warmed over flames while something sweet and toasted is passed around. And of course, food is deeply woven into everything Punjab stands for! Such is the case for Lohri, too. Outlook Traveller Eats spoke to people who share their fondest Lohri memories with us, to understand their lived experiences of the harvest festival. 

Makki Di Roti and Sarson Da Saag: Rajan and Deepika Sethi’s Favourite Winter Delicacy

For Rajan and Deepika Sethi of Ikk Punjab, the festival always brings back memories of being outside. “My earliest food memory of Lohri is sitting outdoors, on the street or terrace, around the bonfire,” he said. He remembers elders passing around paper cones filled with rewari, gajak, peanuts, and popcorn. Even now, the details are clear to him: the crackle of the fire, the smell of gud and roasted peanuts, and the warmth that cuts through the winter evenings all feel as real as ever.​

At home, makki di roti and sarson da saag were central to Lohri celebrations. And why wouldn’t they be? For most Punjabis growing up in the state, saag is one of the most iconic delicacies enjoyed, especially during the peak of winter. While these dishes are part of the larger winter food rhythm in Punjab, Sethi remembers them feeling distinctly different on the day of Lohri. Somehow, “There was more ghee, more butter, and a stronger sense that food was meant to be shared generously,” he said, emphasising how abundance marked the occasion—literally and figuratively. 

Punjab’s famous sarson ka saag paired deliciously with makki ki roti.

One ritual that stands out clearly from his childhood was the insistence on offering food to the fire before eating. “No one ate anything before offering it to the fire. Even as children, we were taught to wait,” he said. Alongside this was the encouragement to taste everything on offer. This, to Sethi, reinforced the idea that Lohri was about inclusion and shared participation, rather than catering to personal preferences and choices.

According to Sethi, the foods most closely associated with Lohri—til, gud, makki, rewari, and gajak—are all warming, land-driven ingredients that come directly from the harvest. He views them as part of a shared Punjabi food culture that, in fact, transcends borders, reflecting their own concept at Ikk Panjab.

What set Lohri food apart from everyday winter meals in their household was not the ingredients but the intent behind their use. “Lohri food was more symbolic and indulgent,” he explained. “It wasn’t just about nourishment. It was about celebration, gratitude, and eating together.” In his family, homemade gajak and freshly popped popcorn held particular significance, while store-bought sweets were considered secondary. These small, home-led practices made the festival feel more personal than ceremonial.

At the heart of it all, of course, lay gratitude. By offering food to the fire before consuming it themselves, Lohri placed thankfulness at the centre of the celebration. As Sethi put it, food first became an offering to the sun, the land, and the season, before turning into something to be enjoyed collectively. Even today, his personal Lohri tradition remains unchanged: ensuring the festival is always celebrated together, with shared warmth and shared food forming its core. “My personal Lohri tradition is making sure it’s always celebrated collectively—with family, friends, or colleagues.” The sense of togetherness, at the end of the day, remains most crucial, be it the Lohri they grew up celebrating or the Lohri they celebrate today.

Gud Ke Pude and Kheer: Chef Harpal Singh Sokhi’s Childhood Lohri Non-Negotiable

For Chef Harpal Singh Sokhi of Karigari, Lohri has always been about community before anything else. “Har ghar mein ek apni Lohri jalti thi, aur ek sarvajanik Lohri jalti thi (each household burnt their own Lohri, and another one was burnet together, as a community),” he said, recalling a childhood where the festival was celebrated both inside homes and collectively across neighbourhoods. 

At his own home, lai, which is a popular, crunchy sweet made from puffed rice (murmura/khoi) bound with melted jaggery (gud) syrup, often shaped into ladoos, and patashe, a traditional Indian aerated sugar candy, were offered to the fire, while everyone would walk around it together. “Everyone has their own stories associated with the festival—to burn the evil away and all the negative egos away,” he added, explaining how these rituals were narrated to him growing up.

As he was taught as a young boy, Lohri rests on three core ideas. “First, for the happiness and well-being of our own families. Second, for the farmers, so that the upcoming year brings with it healthy and abundant crops,” Sokhi explained, pointing to the timing of wheat sowing as the reason the festival holds special meaning for farmers. The third, he said, is for the seasonal change: “From the day of Lohri, the days become long, while the nights short, hinting at the arrival of spring.” These traditions, he noted, continue to guide how he celebrates the festival today, with his family in Mumbai.

Some of his most vivid memories are of “lohri maangna” as a child. “Along with my sisters, we kids would go roaming about the neighbourhood, knocking door-to-door, asking for Lohri,” he recalls, describing how his own family would prepare packets of lai and batashe, often slipping in a five- or ten-paise coin for children who came asking. This custom hails from early Punjab, as a form of community-building and celebration. In fact, if a child came knocking on your door, it was considered extremely auspicious to send them back with hands full of the offerings of the festival. Meanwhile, leaving them empty-handed was considered highly inauspicious. The chef remembers this memory as a joyful, unserious part of growing up—one that reinforced Lohri’s communal spirit.

Food, Sokhi said, was central to his home’s Lohri celebrations. “There were two very special dishes that my mother cooked every Lohri, without fail,” he reminisced. One was urad dal ki khichdi, cooked only once a year with the change of the month from Poh to Magh, which refers to the transition between Poh (the 10th month) and Magh (the 11th month) in the Punjabi calendar. “My mother would cook it the night before Lohri, but we would only get to eat it the following day. On the day of Lohri, we’d have this khichdi for breakfast with dahi, and we did this every single year!” he said, adding that the family would wait for it eagerly since it was never made at any other time of the year. Evenings were marked by gud pude and kheer—a Sokhi household classic on Lohri—while occasionally, ganne ke ras ka zarda (sugarcane juice kheer/ pudding) with boondi raita would also make an appearance.

In the days leading up to the festival, his mother would prepare til aur gud ki gajjak at home—something Sokhi points out is now often store-bought. “Revris were, of course, non-negotiable,” he said, specifying the white ones that were always present in their household.

He also emphasised why ingredients like til and gud are central to Lohri. “Til creates mucus for the entire body, which is why it’s extremely important to eat it in winter,” Sokhi explained. Sesame plays a crucial role in providing warmth and calcium to the body in the colder months of the year, which is why it’s so central to the festival. Gud, he added, is mineral- and iron-rich, making the combination nutritionally sound. 

Warm kheer served alongside gud pude and numerous other desserts.

Offering food to the fire is also very meaningful in Punjabi culture. Elders see this ritual as a way to welcome purity back into life. It is a way to start fresh by letting go of any negativity. In Punjabi homes, Lohri is especially revered and celebrated with pomp and show when there is a newborn or a newly married couple, as families pray for their health and good luck.

Today, Sokhi brings these memories into his professional life with care. In preparation to open his first restaurant in Chandigarh, he has been working on a contemporary version of the traditional gud puda—a dish he dearly loves as a reminder of Lohri. 

“Inspired by the Japanese concept of fluffy pancakes, we’re now experimenting and trying to create fluffy gud pudas,” he said, describing how the fusion dish will be served alongside kheer as a tribute to Punjab, marking the brand’s first expansion into the state. He is also experimenting with chhitt, a traditional winter soup rich in khus khus and ginger, which is often consumed for warmth and energy. Another Punjabi classic that they’re experimenting with is makkai ki roti ki churi, made with gud and ghee, which are, of course, seasonal flavours that reflect Punjab’s cold-weather palate.

At home, these traditions persist, although they have evolved over time. “While I still cook gud pude and kheer for my family every year during the festival, we also make soft til-gud barfis and hard til-gud,” Sokhi said, explaining that this helps balance his Maharashtrian wife’s customs with his own.

For him, carrying these dishes forward is about remembering—keeping alive the warmth and collective spirit that defined Lohri in his childhood.

Read more: Know More About The Significance Of Til-Gud For Makar Sakranti And Lohri

Also read: These Puran Poli Rolls Are Perfect For Your Lohri Celebrations

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