Chp 897. The Enigma of Iskut Zung

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!

Chp 896. How to grow Iskut

Let me introduce you to the humble yet mighty Iskut, the unsung hero of Mizo cuisine. 

Iskut, or as others might call it - chayote, squash, mirliton, chow chow, christophene, or vegetable pear, is that versatile vegetable that has a permanent VIP pass to every Mizo kitchen.

Iskut is like the potato of Mizoram - except greener, smoother, and with a lot more personality. Whether it is boiled, or bai (Mizo style of broth), or bawl (Mizo style of congee), or stir-fried, or curried, or tossed in a salad, or added as a Momo filling, Iskut makes its way into almost every meal. 

Heck, if you're a Mizo and you haven’t eaten Iskut in at least one form today, are you even a Mizo?

This unassuming green gourd has a mild, slightly sweet flavour that plays well with pretty much any ingredient you throw at it. Honestly, if Iskut were a person, it would be that super-friendly neighbour who’s always there when you need them, and somehow, they always have just the right thing you’re looking for.

But Iskut isn’t just a vegetable—it’s practically a way of life here in Mizoram. From the farm to the table, this little green gem is a staple that’s as reliable as the sunrise and just as essential.

And the place where Iskut is known for the most in Mizoram is Sihphir, where my farm is situated. Sihphir mass produces Iskut so much that it even earned the nickname "Isiphir". :D

I am even a member of the Sihphir Iskut Association by the way, and so here is my short blog post on how to grow Iskut for anyone interested. I hope you enjoy reading it.

I'm going to start from scratch here, assuming you want to know how to cultivate this vegetable for the first time.

First of all, you will need land. The ideal conditions for Iskut cultivation include well-drained, fertile soil, plenty of sunlight, and a good water source. 

It thrives in areas with a warm temperature (between 15°C to 25°C), humid climate (around 70% to 80% humidity), and high altitude (from 1500 to 2000 meters above sea level) with subtropical dry winter climate, making places like Sihphir perfect for cultivation. 

Once you have the land, you will need to clear it for cultivation, and we usually do this by cutting the weeds with our machetes and brushcutters.

We then burn the pile of weed along with the larger and tougher plants that our tools can’t easily handle (including this thorny, irritating vine called Siali nu chh* which I will write about one day, lolz). Burning the area is quick and cost-effective, and the ashes add nutrients to the soil.

Now, you might think this sounds like "jhum cultivation", but it’s not. Jhum involves burning large forested areas and clearing them for new crops, followed by "shifting cultivation" where people move to a different area for the next crop, whereas here on my farm, I’m just managing the same land that’s already in use.

We control the fire carefully, by burning in batches or creating "mei kawng sial"—small, barren patches that act as firebreaks to prevent the flames from spreading. The fire stays exactly where it’s supposed to, safely prepping the soil without any risk to neighbouring farms or forests (I definitely wouldn't want to piss off my farm neighbour by burning up his land because he's the former Chief Minister of Mizoram, lolz). 

So, while the whole process might resemble Jhum from a distance, it’s a much more controlled and targeted farming method.

We also take extra care to protect valuable trees within the flame area, like this Cherry Blossom sapling below. We wrapped it with another plant's stem to shield it from the heat, ensuring it survived unharmed.

Once the land is burnt and cleared, it’s time to plant the seeds.

In this case, the "seeds" are actually sacks full of Iskut from the previous harvest, now hardened and showing the first signs of sprouting. In Sihphir, whenever we harvest our Iskut, we keep around 90% for consumption or marketing and leave the remaining 10% for the next harvest.

And oh, by the way, there are two types of Iskut grown here—one with thorns and one without. Farmers tend to prefer the thornless variety since it’s easier to handle, though both types offer the same great taste.

So this is what the Iskut to be planted looks like.

If you don't have Iskut saved from your previous harvest, you can buy them from other farmers.

Note how the seed is just about to sprout.

Once you have those Iskut, it's time to plant them into the soil.

Dig shallow holes in the ground, around 3 meters apart from each other, and place three Iskuts in each hole, making sure they’re not completely buried in the soil. As you can see from the images below, they should be just lightly nestled into the earth.

Once they are planted, we usually add cow dung and ashes from the nearby burnt plants to the soil. And once the vines start flowering, we add DAP and Urea. These additions can help ensure a healthier, more bountiful crop.

And of course, be sure to plant them just before the monsoon begins, as they require a lot of water. Unless you’re up for the challenge of installing a watering system or committing to daily manual watering, lolz. It’s best to let nature take care of the hydration.

As you wait for the seeds to sprout, there’s an important task to tackle—constructing a support net above the Iskut farm. This can be done in a couple of ways. You can either plant concrete pillars or angle rods around the outer rim of your farm area, or you can use the existing trees as natural pillars.

Next, buy a good length of iron wire and connect all the pillars to form a sturdy mesh overhead. Be sure to include plenty of support pillars in the middle, too, as the Iskut vines will eventually climb up and become extremely heavy as they mature.

This is the most significant investment you’ll need to make, but it’s a one-time cost. Once built, the structure can be used for all future harvests, making it well worth the effort and money spent.

Once the seeds begin to sprout above the ground, take some bamboo sticks and split them into smaller pieces. Use them to create a small ladder-like structure, as shown in the image below.

The vines will use this framework to climb up towards the mesh above.

From that point on, all you need to do is wait and focus on other types of farming that require more daily attention. The Iskut vines will automatically climb up the sticks. Just keep an eye on the Iskut plants to ensure none of the seeds have died or been eaten by rats, and if they have, quickly replace them with new seeds. Also, occasionally clear away weeds from the soil near the seeds as they also tend to consume some of the nutrients meant for the Iskut.

In 2-3 months, your overhead mesh will be covered with lush, green vines, and you’ll have plenty of Iskut ready for harvesting. Simple. :)

Yummy, lots of Iskut to eat everywhere! We're in Iskut Heaven.

Here is a very cute Iskut from my farm. I call it... Iscute. :D

Not only do we get to eat lots of yummy free vegetables, but we can also sell them to the nearby Neihbawih market as well.

And here’s the best part—for the next harvest, you won’t need to lift a finger! The seeds (and vines) will naturally dry up during the dry summer or the cold winter spell, lying dormant for a short while. But as soon as the next monsoon arrives, they’ll sprout once more, providing you with yet another effortless and bountiful harvest.

So I hope you find this blog post useful. Feel free to ask me anything about Iskut as I know a lot about it now. In fact, you can call me Iskim. :P

But hold on—this story isn’t over just yet. There’s a hidden gem in the world of Iskut that many people, including quite a few Mizos, aren’t aware of—Iskut zung, the root of Iskut. It’s super duper yummy and a special delicacy that deserves its own spotlight. So in my next post, I’ll dive into this lesser-known, mouthwatering treat. Trust me, you won’t want to miss it. So stay tuned for more Iskut goodness!

Until then, cheers!