I was beginning to lose breath, the air was feeling nippier by the minute, and the only thing that brought some respite was the sight of a board that read: “Jullay! Welcome to Tsam Khang by Chef Jigmet Mingur.” I was in Leh for a work trip and managed to catch a chance to meet Chef Mingur, one of the chefs working to bring Ladakh’s cuisine to the fore. A rather difficult climb up a slope led me to his restaurant. With alfresco seating, an open kitchen, and the surrounding hills, this 10-seater dining experience follows no single menu but mostly serves what grows in Tsam Khang. It is located in Horzay, a 15-minute drive from Leh’s main city. Since the seats are limited, Mingur recommends you call and book at least a day in advance.
The dining experiences are discontinued during winters (after September), when he uses the time to take his cuisine to the rest of the country through pop-ups or to visit home in Khemi village in the Nubra valley.
I first met Mingur at a pop-up at the Leela Palace in New Delhi, where he was hosting a two-day event. Ever since, I had been following the monk-turned-chef not only for his food but for the effortless finesse and simplicity he brings to each plate he serves.
But dining with him at Tsam Khang was an experience in itself.
Unlike most restaurants that try to safeguard their kitchens, Mingur is very comfortable with his guests entering his workplace. Just behind it runs a narrow stream, the water from which he uses to prepare most of the dishes. He also took me foraging around Tsam Khang, picking lots of wild chives and herbs that found their way into dishes he prepared for me.
Since I was visiting as a friend and not sitting through his multi-course dinner, he asked me to choose what I wanted to eat the evening before.
What All Did I Eat At Tsam Khang?
I told Mingur to pick the dishes he liked most from his repertoire. He chose mokthuk and chutagi for starters, khamir bread with wild sabji for the mains, and phaymer and soaked apricots for dessert. Let’s go dish by dish.
Mokthuk is a comforting Tibetan dish that combines momos (dumplings) with a spiced soup or broth. Since I am a vegetarian, he stuffed the dumplings with a mixture of chives and onions and placed them in a broth full of chives and pepper. For non-vegetarians, he usually uses minced mutton with chives and onions, placed in a mutton broth. That bowl was exactly what I needed in a winter-approaching Leh. While it came together pretty well, the dumpling and the broth were great as standalones too.
Next up was chutagi, a traditional, hearty pasta soup from Ladakh. The name comes from two Ladakhi words: “chu” (meaning water or soup) and “tagi” (meaning bread or dough). While the chutagi dough is sometimes prepared using buckwheat flour, Mingur prepared using whole flour. He rolled the dough, cut small circles, and meticulously folded them into small bow-tie-looking pasta. He boiled it directly in the stock that combined sautéed onions, garlic, tomatoes, local spices, and root vegetables like potatoes, carrots, and kohlrabi, along with leafy greens such as spinach. One bite of Mingur’s chutagi and you will forget your mushroom fettuccine forever.
The khamiri bread and wild sabji were equal parts nutritious, clean, and delicious. The sabji was prepared using chives, spinach, and onions, and Mingur called it his favourite preparation from his entire menu. Minimum spices and mustard oil allowed the vegetables to shine with its flavours.
Finally, to the part that I am always most excited for: the dessert. Phaymer with soaked apricot was what Mingur had planned for the sweet ending. It is prepared by kneading roasted barley flour with jaggery and butter. Sweetened to the right levels, I asked Mingur if this was their take on halwa. With a polite reluctance, he said, “This is phaymer.” It was topped with rose petals and soaked, sour apricots, and served with a dollop of vanilla ice cream.
It was one of the most memorable meals of my life, owing not just to the flavours but to the fact that I saw a meal being constructed from scratch right in front of my eyes. Farm to table in its truest, most honest sense. The setting contributes hugely to the experience. With trees swaying, hills in the distance, and the city at your feet, Tsam Khang is much more than a restaurant; it’s a space that breathes life into you, and I can bet my bottom dollar that at least once, you will think about spending the rest of your life there.
More About Chef Jigmet Mingur
Apart from being a hospitable chef, Mingur invests himself fully into every meal he serves. I was always very curious about his journey from a monk to a chef. Always hesitant, I never asked. But when we both sat down to the meal he had cooked for me, I asked him, “How did you become a chef?”
“During my time as a monk, I spent long hours working in the kitchen. When I stepped out of the monastery, I discovered that not many people were discussing Ladakh’s rich cuisine. We had a lot to show the world, and I thought I should put my skill to use,” he said. He started Tsam Khang in the summer of 2025 and is happy to bring his people’s food to the rest of the country.
“Farm-to-table has become such a fad today, but I have seen my mother and my grandmother cook everything available around our home, ever since I was a child.” He also added that he was very conscious of retaining that philosophy at Tsam Khang. “I still ask my family to share their recipes with me because that is the true flavour of Ladakh and its houses,” concluded Mingur.
Read more: These Spots In The Country Are Bringing Indigenous Cuisines To Your Tables
Also read: Chef Amit Ghorpade On The Art Of Reinventing Lesser-Known Ingredients
