Now that you know what Iskut is, say hello to Iskut zung, which is the root of Iskut.
Iskut zung is like the secret treasure of the Mizo vegetable world—so rare and elusive that even many Mizos don’t know much about it!
It’s not that we’re hiding it on purpose; it’s just that it’s rarely available. Let me explain.
As I mentioned in my previous blog post on cultivating Iskut, once we harvest Iskut, we don’t need to plant new seeds for the next crop. The previous harvest has already established roots, and in the next season, they sprout again, leading to a second harvest, and then a third. It’s only after the third or fourth harvest that we usually dig up the Iskut zung and eventually plant new seeds for the next cycle.
So, as you can see, it takes three to four harvests of Iskut—nearly two years—to get just ONE harvest of Iskut zung, which is why it’s so rare.
Of course, you could dig out the root after the first harvest, but it would still be quite small. Plus, why go through the effort of planting new seeds when you can just let the root do the work for you?
This is why some of my Mizo friends have never tasted or even heard of Iskut zung.
Well, let me tell you—it is soooo good! The best way to cook Iskut zung is to fry it on a low flame, allowing it to develop a golden, crispy exterior while retaining its tender interior. It has a unique flavour profile that’s a delightful blend of potato and tapioca, with a subtle stickiness and a perfect balance of mild sweetness and savoury notes. It’s seriously good—an indulgence that’s well worth the wait!
I consider myself a master chef in the fine art of cooking Iskut zung. And let’s be honest, there must be plenty of single ladies out there dreaming of a guy who knows his way around this rare delicacy. If that sounds like you, well... you know where to find me, wink wink! :D
Just recently, I flew down to Pune to flaunt my culinary skills in a series of cooking sessions. Let’s just say, it was a smash hit! The dish was such a crowd-pleaser that everyone was left wondering how on earth I’m still single. :P
So here's the funniest part about my trip to Pune. I spoke to the other farmers around my farm and booked their Iskut zung in advance to be harvested on an exact date. Just one day before my flight, my dear neighbours did as told, and altogether, I managed to obtain 10 kgs of Iskut zung. I then left my farm for the city.
The next day I left for the airport. Since the air authorities have many restrictions on what can and cannot be carried in a checked-in suitcase (I once had my entire 3 kgs of precious smoked pork confiscated), I didn't want to take any chances, so I carried the 10 kgs of Iskut zung in my hand baggage. Yeah, it was freaking heavy.
Once I cleared the security check, I didn’t want the weight of the Iskut zung to crush my laptop, so I had an empty plastic bag ready. I transferred the Iskut zung into it and carried the bag separately. All was going smoothly until it was time to board the flight. As we were walking across the tarmac toward the plane, disaster struck—my plastic bag suddenly TORE under the weight!
Lolzzz, Iskut zungs went rolling everywhere on the runway around the plane. A few kind passengers and the ground crew rushed to help me gather them, while others couldn’t stop laughing. It was hilarious and utterly embarrassing all at once!
Ahhh the things we do for love, lolz.
And then I had an 8-hour layover at Kolkata airport before my Pune flight, so I spent that time lugging around the heavy 10 kgs of Iskut zung all over the terminal, from the cafe to the loo to the smoking section to the bar to the bookstore to the convenient store to the everywhere. :D
Yup, my poor shoulder and back indeed.
But all that was worth it as I reached Pune safely with my Iskut zung. I headed straight to my dear friends Teresa and Nitin’s house, where they graciously hosted me, as always. My old friend Siami also stopped by to welcome me, and here she is posing with one of the prized Iskut zungs.
The next day, Teresa invited some of my old friends in Pune to their place for dinner, and I whipped up the most amazing Iskut zung dish ever to grace the planet. Seriously, it was so good that a few people fainted when they found out I’m still single despite my culinary genius.
Here's the perfect song to play while eating my Iskut zung, by this artist called... Kimhana, have you heard of it?
My Iskut zung brings all the chicks to the yard
And they're like, it's better than yours
Damn right it's better than yours
I can teach you, but I have to charge
Then another night, I cooked for Sumeet and his family, including a few colleagues from work. Once again, the Iskut zung was a massive hit. The best part? Everyone agreed it wasn’t just delicious, but had a completely new flavour they’d never experienced before. That meant a lot to me, especially since many of them were vegetarians—proof that Iskut zung can win over any palate!
I also discovered that night that Iskut zung pairs perfectly well with dal-roti too, turning a simple meal into a culinary masterpiece!
Aaaand with that, my work was done. I had spread the message of the Iskut Lord far and wide. My mission to enlighten the masses was complete—one bite of Iskut zung at a time.
I had converted the unbelievers, turning ordinary folks into Iskut zung devotees. They now understood the gospel of Iskut, and I could almost hear the whispers of “Yum-lelujah!” as they savoured every piece.
And so, with my culinary crusade behind me, I flew back to Mizoram, back to my farm, content in the knowledge that I had educated and edified their taste buds in the ways of the mighty Iskut zung.
Cheers!
