Mithai, crunchy farsan and festive dishes for Diwali, from chakli and chivda to besan ladoo and kaju katli. (47 recipes)
Sakarpada (shakarpara) are little sweet diamonds of a rich dough made with ghee, milk and sugar, fried until golden and crunchy. They are a Diwali favourite with tea, and the cubes go into bhusu too. They keep for weeks in an air-tight tin.
Mathia are thin, crisp, slightly sweet and peppery wafers made from mathia flour, a mix of ground husked moong and urad dal. They are a classic Gujarati Diwali snack. The dough is pounded until pale, rolled very thin between plastic sheets and fried one at a time. They are fragile, so store them gently. To make mathia flour, finely grind 4 parts husked green gram lentils with 1 part husked black gram lentils.
Potato chakri are crisp, light spirals made with rice flour and boiled potato, flavoured with ginger, chilli, lemon, sesame and coriander. The potato makes them extra tender-crisp. They keep for about 3 weeks in an air-tight container, so make them ahead for Diwali or guests.
Patta gathia are flat, ribbon-like strips of gram flour dough, rolled paper-thin under the palm on a wooden board and fried until crisp. Black pepper and ajwain give them their flavour. They are a classic Gujarati tea-time snack and are great with fried chillies and papaya sambharo.
Pune claims bhakarwadi as its own, and the queues outside the city's old sweet-and-farsan shops at Diwali prove it. Thin sheets of spiced pastry are spread with tamarind, sprinkled with a roasted filling of dry coconut, sesame, poppy seeds, coriander, fennel and chilli, rolled up tight and sliced into spirals before frying. Each bite is crisp, then sweet, then sour, then hot, which is why one is never enough. Gujarati farsan shops sell a sweeter cousin, but the Maharashtrian version keeps the chilli forward. They keep for weeks, travel well and make a good tea-time snack all year. Chef's tip: press the filling into the dough with the rolling pin before you roll the log; loose filling falls out when you slice and the spirals unwind in the oil.
Chorafali is the snack Gujarati children wait for in Diwali week, because it is made in the last days and vanishes first. The dough of gram flour and white urad flour is kneaded, then pounded with a pestle until it turns pale and elastic, rolled out almost transparent and cut into strips. In hot oil the strips swell into crunchy, bubbled ribbons in under a minute, and a shower of red chilli, dry mango powder and kala namak while they are hot makes them tangy, salty and sharp. It is a Surat and Saurashtra favourite and comes out alongside suvali, mathiya and ghughra for guests on the New Year. Eat it on its own or with tea. Chef's tip: roll with oil on the board and pin, never dry flour; loose besan burns in the oil and leaves bitter brown flecks on the strips.
Kadboli is the Maharashtrian answer to chakli for people without a press: the same kind of roasted multi-grain flour, called bhajani, is rolled into ropes on a wooden board and twisted into rings by hand. Grandmothers in Kolhapur and Satara can turn out hundreds in an afternoon, each with the faint ridges of the board on it. The flavour is deeper and more toasty than a plain gram-flour snack, thanks to rice, chana, urad and moong all roasted before grinding, with coriander and cumin roasted in. They are hard-crunchy, spicy and moreish, eaten from the faral dabba with tea through Diwali week. Ready-made kadboli bhajani from a Maharashtrian grocer saves the roasting steps. Chef's tip: knead with water that is just off the boil; the heat partly cooks the starch and gives a pliable dough that rolls into smooth ropes without cracking.
In Uttar Pradesh and Rajasthan the Holi tin is never complete without a stack of mathri next to the gujiya. These are thick, rough-edged discs of maida made very short with ghee, flecked with carom seeds and crushed black pepper, and fried slowly over a low flame for nearly twenty minutes until they turn pale gold and crumble into flaky layers. They taste savoury and peppery, a little like a buttery cracker, and they are meant for dipping in hot masala chai or eating with a sliver of mango or lemon pickle. Unlike the papad-thin Gujarati mathiya of moth bean flour, mathri is a sturdy wheat cracker that keeps for a month and travels in every child's luggage back to hostel. Chef's tip: don't knead the dough smooth; just press it together. Over-kneading builds gluten and makes mathri hard instead of flaky.
At Rajasthani and Marwari weddings in winter, the halwai's moong dal halwa is the dish people go back for. It is also made at home for Holi, when it is cooked in big kadhais and passed around warm. Soaked yellow moong dal is ground to a coarse paste and roasted in ghee for the best part of an hour, first clumping into a heavy mass, then breaking down into golden grains that smell of toasted nuts and ghee. Hot saffron milk and sugar go in at the end and are cooked back until the ghee glistens. The result is rich, grainy, buttery and fragrant, best served warm in small bowls with slivered almonds. It needs steady stirring and a strong arm, so share the job. Chef's tip: grind the dal with as little water as possible; a wet paste takes far longer to roast and turns sticky instead of grainy.
Halwais in Jaipur, Indore and old Delhi sell mountains of these during Ganesh Chaturthi, Diwali and every wedding season, and Ganesha himself is usually shown holding one. The difference from ordinary boondi laddu is size: the gram-flour batter is dropped through the finest jhara, so each pearl is no bigger than a mustard seed and the finished laddu is soft, moist and almost melts on the tongue. A light syrup of one-string consistency, saffron, cardamom and a little melon seed is all it needs. Serve them as prasad, in a festive mithai box, or after a thali. The classic mistake is a batter that is too thick: the drops come out with tails and stay chewy instead of round. Being made only from gram flour, sugar and ghee, these are gluten-free as long as no hing or wheat goes near the batter. Chef's tip: shape the laddus while the boondi is still warm and syrupy; once it cools, the pearls will not stick together and the laddus crumble.
Namak pare are the easiest thing in the festive tin, and usually the first to run out. A simple salted dough with a little ghee, ajwain and black nigella seeds is rolled thin, cut into small diamonds and fried until golden and crunchy. They are much thinner and crisper than mathri, with a satisfying snap rather than a flaky crumble, and the kalonji gives a slightly oniony, peppery note. Punjabi and UP homes make big batches before Holi and Diwali, but they also turn up on train journeys, at kitty parties and with evening tea. Sprinkle with chaat masala for a tangier version. Chef's tip: roll the dough evenly, about 3 mm; thin spots burn while thick ones stay soft, and even sheets give every piece the same crunch.
Ask a Maharashtrian or South Indian family which Diwali sweet goes first and rava ladoo is a strong answer. It needs no khoya and no special flour, just semolina toasted gently in ghee with coconut until it smells biscuity, then soaked with a hot cardamom sugar syrup. After a short rest the rava drinks up the syrup and can be rolled into soft, slightly grainy balls that firm up as they cool, studded with golden cashews and plump raisins. In Mumbai they sit in the faral platter next to chakli and karanji; in Tamil homes they are a quick Deepavali or Krishna Jayanthi offering. They keep for about a week, less if you use fresh coconut. Chef's tip: shape them while the mixture is still warm; if it cools and crumbles, sprinkle over a tablespoon of warm milk and it will bind again.
Tamil households fire up the murukku press in the week before Deepavali, and ribbon pakoda is usually the first thing through it because it is the most forgiving. The dough of rice flour and gram flour is spiced with red chilli, sesame and asafoetida and squeezed through a flat slit plate straight into the oil, where the ribbons fry into crunchy, ridged strips that break into bite-sized pieces. It is lighter and crisper than thenkuzhal, savoury with a little heat, and fills the tins for guests and neighbours. Children eat it by the handful with evening coffee. Use gluten-free asafoetida, as many brands are cut with wheat, and check your press is free of wheat dough. Chef's tip: listen to the oil; when the loud sizzle around the ribbons dies to a whisper, the moisture is gone and they are done.
Long before it came in gift boxes, soan papdi was a halwai's showpiece in the bazaars of western Uttar Pradesh and Delhi. Hot sugar syrup is pulled like taffy, then worked into a warm paste of gram flour and maida roasted in ghee, and the folding stretches it into hundreds of fine threads. The result is airy, flaky and crumbly, with a toasty, cardamom-sweet flavour, nothing like the stale boxes passed around offices at Diwali. It is genuinely a two-person job at home: one person pulls while the other keeps the flour warm. Wear clean kitchen gloves rubbed with ghee if your hands are sensitive to heat, and keep children away from the syrup. Chef's tip: keep the roasted flour on the lowest possible heat the whole time; the moment it cools, it stops coating the sugar threads and you get dense, chewy lumps.
Open any Gujarati steel dabba in Diwali week and suvali will be near the top, stacked between chorafali and mathiya. Families fry them on the days around Dhanteras and Kali Chaudas, then hand them to every guest who drops by on Bestu Varas, the Gujarati New Year, with a cup of masala tea. The dough is short with ghee and sweetened by sugar dissolved in milk, so the puris snap cleanly and melt into a gentle sweetness rather than tasting like a biscuit. Sesame gives a nutty crunch, cardamom the festive smell. They should stay ivory with only the faintest blush of colour. Eat them with tea, or the way many grandparents do, with a spoonful of chhundo or sweet mango pickle. Chef's tip: roll every suvali before you start frying and keep them under a damp cloth, so you can give the pan your full attention and keep the heat low and steady.
Thattai means flat, and that is the whole secret: these Tamil rice crackers are patted out so thin you can see light through them, then fried until they crack like glass. Soaked chana dal pops inside each one for little nubs of crunch, torn curry leaves crisp in the oil, and roasted urad powder gives a savoury, biscuity depth. They fill tins for Deepavali and Gokulashtami across Tamil Nadu; in Karnataka a thicker cousin with peanuts is called nippattu, and in Andhra chekkalu. Many homes add butter to the dough; this version uses hot oil, which keeps it vegan and just as crisp. Use gluten-free asafoetida for a gluten-free batch. Chef's tip: pat them out on a sheet of oiled plastic or a banana leaf, then peel each one straight into the oil; lifting by hand tears thin dough.
No Diwali sweet box, wedding thali or birthday party in India feels complete without a gulab jamun or two. This is the classic halwai version made with khoya, milk reduced to a dense crumbly solid, kneaded with a little flour and fried slowly in ghee until the outside is deep mahogany and the inside cooked through. Soaked in light syrup scented with rose and cardamom, the balls swell and become soft and spongy, with a faint caramel milkiness. Serve them warm on their own, or with a scoop of vanilla ice cream or a spoonful of rabri. Buy soft, unsweetened khoya (mawa) for this; dry, hard khoya makes dense jamuns. Chef's tip: fry one test ball first; if it cracks, knead in a teaspoon of milk, and if it spreads, add a pinch more flour.
In Chennai sweet shops the glass jars of mixture sit beside the murukku, and at Deepavali most Tamil families make their own. It is built from separately fried parts: thin besan omapodi-style sev, little spiced kara boondi pearls, thick poha fried to a crunch, fried gram, peanuts and a big handful of curry leaves, all tossed with chilli and asafoetida while warm. The flavour is salty, peppery and savoury, with no sugar and no raisins, which is what sets it apart from Gujarati chevdo. Each part has a different crunch, so every handful is different. Serve it with filter coffee or tea. Use gluten-free asafoetida if you need it gluten-free. Chef's tip: fry everything in the same oil in order, from lightest to heaviest flavour: poha and peanuts first, then boondi, then sev; that keeps the oil clean and every part tastes fresh.
Chirote are what a Maharashtrian or Kannadiga family makes to show off at a wedding or Diwali. Thin sheets of maida dough are spread with satha, ghee whipped with rice flour, stacked, rolled into a log and sliced, so each piece opens in the hot fat like a many-petalled flower. Done well they shatter when you bite them, light and buttery, with sweetness only from the dusting of cardamom sugar on top. In Pune they appear on the faral platter beside karanji and anarse; in Karnataka the chiroti is often served at weddings drenched in warm saffron-almond milk. This takes patience and a cool kitchen, so set aside an unhurried morning. Chef's tip: whip the satha until it is white and fluffy like whipped cream; a dense, oily paste won't keep the layers apart and they fuse into a single chewy disc.
The day after Diwali, Pushtimarg havelis from Nathdwara to Ahmedabad build the annakut, literally a mountain of food, piled before Shrinathji to remember Krishna lifting Govardhan hill. Among dozens of sweets and farsan, there is always a shaak cooked from every vegetable of the new season, and many Gujarati and Rajasthani homes make their own version for the New Year meal. In the haveli tradition there is no onion or garlic, and many families leave out tomato too; the flavour comes from ajwain, ginger, green chilli, a little jaggery and lemon. It is lightly spiced, sweet-sour and full of different textures, from creamy raw banana to crunchy beans. Serve with puri, kadhi and rice. This version uses groundnut oil, so it is vegan; havelis cook it in ghee. Chef's tip: cut every vegetable to roughly the same size and add them in order of how long they take, so the shaak ends up tender, not mushy.
Every North Indian and Gujarati kitchen has its besan ladoo argument: coarse or fine flour, boora or caster sugar, nuts or not. What nobody argues about is the roasting. The gram flour has to cook in ghee on a low flame for half an hour, going from a stiff lump to a loose, flowing paste the colour of sand, until the raw beany smell is gone and the kitchen smells like roasted peanuts. That patient roast gives a ladoo that is melt-in-the-mouth, faintly grainy and rich, never pasty. They are made for Diwali, offered to Ganesh on Chaturthi and packed for travellers because they keep for weeks. Use besan packed without wheat if you need it gluten-free. Chef's tip: let the roasted besan cool until just warm to the touch before the sugar goes in; hot besan melts the sugar and your ladoos slump into flat discs.
Agra is famous for two sweets and one namkeen, and dalmoth is the namkeen: soaked masoor and chana dal fried until crunchy and tossed with chilli, black salt, dry mango and a little sugar, sold in big tins near the Taj and packed for every train journey. It is eaten with tea in the afternoon and handed round to guests at Diwali. The dal is fried dry, without any batter coating. The common mistake is frying the dal straight from soaking water; any moisture makes the oil spit dangerously and the dal chewy, so dry it on a cloth for at least an hour. Chef's tip: fry the masoor and chana separately, as they need different times to turn crisp.
In Jaipur, badam ka halwa came out of the royal kitchens and now appears at winter weddings and on cold nights when someone wants a real treat. Soaked, peeled almonds are ground to a coarse paste and cooked slowly in ghee with milk, sugar and saffron until the halwa turns golden, glossy and leaves the sides of the pan. It is very rich, so a small bowl is enough. The common mistake is grinding the almonds too fine, which gives a pasty halwa instead of a soft, grainy one. Chef's tip: stop grinding when the almonds look like wet semolina and add the milk only during grinding, never water.
Chandrakala is the round, moon-shaped sweet of Bihar and eastern Uttar Pradesh, made for Holi, Diwali and Chhath and sold by sweet shops in Patna and Varanasi. Two circles of flaky pastry enclose a filling of mawa, nuts and cardamom; the edge is pleated into a rope, then the pastry is fried slowly and dipped in sugar syrup. Its sister suryakala is the same sweet shaped like a sun. The common mistake is syrup that is too thin, which makes the crust soggy within hours; it should reach one-string consistency. Chef's tip: pleat the edge firmly with damp fingertips, because a loose seal is where the filling leaks out in the hot ghee.
In Uttar Pradesh, Bihar and across the Hindi belt, the days before Holi are for making gujiya: the women of the house sit together rolling, filling and crimping hundreds of these half-moon pastries, which are then offered to guests between rounds of colour. The filling is mawa roasted until grainy and golden, mixed with ghee-toasted semolina, coconut, nuts and powdered sugar; Maharashtra's karanji is the cousin with a coconut filling. The common mistake is frying on high heat, which blisters the pastry and leaves it raw and chewy inside; gujiya should fry slowly until crisp and pale gold. Chef's tip: add the powdered sugar only once the mawa has cooled completely, or it melts and the filling turns sticky.
Ratlam in western Madhya Pradesh is so proud of its sev that it carries a GI tag, and every Malwa household keeps a tin for poha, usal and chai-time munching. What makes it different is the spice: ground clove, black pepper and ajwain give a warm heat that builds slowly, and the sev is pressed thick and fried until deep gold. The common mistake is frying in oil that is too hot, which browns the outside while the centre stays soft and soon goes chewy. Chef's tip: cool completely before you store it in an airtight tin; it keeps crisp for three weeks.
Every Maharashtrian Diwali faral box has a pile of shankarpali: small diamond-shaped biscuits, flaky and crisp, sweet with sugar dissolved in warm milk and ghee. Families make large batches in the week before Diwali alongside chakli and karanji, and the tin is raided until Tulsi Vivah. The common mistake is frying too hot, which browns them outside before the layers crisp, so they soften within a day; fry slowly until pale golden. Chef's tip: dissolve the sugar fully in the warm milk and ghee before adding flour, or sugar crystals burn in the oil as dark specks.
Basundi is the reduced-milk dessert of Maharashtra and Gujarat: whole milk simmered patiently in a wide pan, with the skin that forms on top scraped back in, until it is thick, cream-coloured and a little grainy, then sweetened and scented with cardamom and saffron. In Maharashtra it's served with hot puris for Gudi Padwa and Bhau Beej; in Gujarat it turns up at weddings and on Sharad Purnima, and it's also the base of the famous custard-apple (sitafal) basundi. Make it a day ahead; it thickens and tastes richer after a night in the fridge. Chef's tip: use a wide, heavy pan rather than a deep one; more surface means faster evaporation and less time standing at the stove.
Mysore pak was first made in the kitchens of the Mysuru palace in Karnataka, and it's still the sweet that every Mysuru sweet shop is judged by. Roasted gram flour is cooked in a sugar syrup while hot ghee is poured in a spoonful at a time, until the mixture froths up and sets into a golden, honeycombed block. This home version is the softer, melt-in-the-mouth style, with a fine porous crumb; cook it a minute or two longer for the harder, crunchier traditional slab. It keeps for a week and is made for Diwali, weddings and Dasara. Chef's tip: keep the ghee hot on a second burner the whole time; hot ghee hitting the batter is what makes it froth and form those little air holes, and cold ghee gives a dense, greasy fudge.
Kanpur's best-known sweet is a crumbly, rich laddu sold in brown paper boxes near the city's busy crossings and taken home as a souvenir from the city. It is made by roasting semolina slowly in ghee until it smells like warm biscuits, then mixing in browned khoya, sugar and plenty of cashews, giving a soft, melt-in-the-mouth bite with tiny pieces of crunch. Families make a batch for Diwali or Raksha Bandhan and keep it for a week. The biggest mistake is adding the sugar while the mixture is still hot; it melts and the laddus collapse into flat puddles. Chef's tip: if the mixture feels too dry to bind, sprinkle in warm milk a teaspoon at a time rather than adding more ghee.
Bikaner in the Thar desert has made bhujia for well over a century, and the city's version stands apart for its use of moth-bean flour mixed with gram flour. Moth beans, hardy little desert pulses, give the sev an earthy flavour and a brittle, short crunch, while black pepper, black cardamom and a touch of clove add a peppery warmth. Families keep a tin of bhujia for tea time, sprinkle it over poha and chaat, and take boxes home after Diwali visits. A common mistake is making the dough too stiff; it is hard to press and the strands snap. Chef's tip: the dough should feel softer than chapati dough—so soft that a fingertip leaves a smooth dent. Use a sev press with the finest plate.
Mohan thaal, named after Krishna, is offered at temples on Janmashtami and fills sweet boxes at Diwali in both Rajasthan and Gujarat. It is coarse gram flour roasted in ghee until it turns golden and smells like roasted nuts, then set with cardamom syrup into a grainy, fudge-like slab and cut into diamonds. The texture comes from a step called dhabo: rubbing ghee and milk into the flour, then sieving it into tiny granules before roasting. The mistake most cooks make is cooking the syrup too long; the fudge sets rock-hard and crumbles when cut. Chef's tip: take the syrup off the heat at a firm one-and-a-half string stage, and stop stirring when the mixture pulls away from the pan's sides in one mass.
Dharwad peda has been made in this north Karnataka town for well over a century, first by families who came from Uttar Pradesh, and it now carries a geographical indication tag. Unlike pale, smooth pedas elsewhere, it is cooked slowly until the milk solids caramelise to a deep brown and a grainy, almost crumbly texture, then rolled in powdered sugar. Pilgrims and travellers carry boxes home from Dharwad and Hubballi, and families buy it for weddings and exam results. Chef's tip: let the cooked mixture cool for ten minutes before you add the sugar for rolling; added while too hot, the sugar melts and the pedas go sticky.
Anarsa is a sweet of patience. In Bihar and eastern Uttar Pradesh, women start soaking rice three days before Teej or Diwali, changing the water every day, then pound it into a damp flour, bind it with jaggery and leave the dough to mellow overnight. Fried with the sesame side up, each disc puffs into a lacy, honeycombed top with a crisp edge and a chewy middle. They are stacked in brass plates for guests and offered at home shrines. Chef's tip: fry one test anarsa before the batch; if it spreads and dissolves, knead in a spoonful of rice flour, and if it cracks, add a few drops of milk or water.
This is the big festive chevdo: crisp potato straws and rounds, fried chana dal, green grams and pawa, with cashews, peanuts and sultanas, curry leaves and green chillies, all coated in a sweet-hot seasoning and a fragrant whole-spice tempering with lemon. It makes a large batch for Diwali and keeps for weeks in air-tight tins. Golf potatoes are small, round potatoes.
Chakri (also called chakli) are crisp, ridged spirals piped from a sev press and deep-fried. This version uses rice flour with a little gram flour and plain flour, flavoured with fresh coriander, ginger, chilli, sesame and lemon, with a touch of sugar. They are a Diwali favourite and keep well in an air-tight tin.
Fafadia gathia are pale, airy strands of gram flour dough rubbed through a gathia jara straight into hot oil. Beating the salt and kharo water until white and frothy, then kneading the dough hard, makes them light and melt-in-the-mouth. Serve with fried green chillies, papaya sambharo or jalebi. For fuli (puffed) gathia, use coarsely ground black pepper instead of white pepper and press the dough through a fuli jara.
Jadi sev is the thick variety of sev: crunchy gram flour noodles pressed straight into hot oil, seasoned with coarse black pepper and green chilli powder. Eat it by the handful with tea, or mix it into bhusu and chevdo. For medium sev, use a disc with slightly smaller holes.
Sanchar papdi are thin diamonds of rice, gram and urad flour dough that blister and bubble as they fry, then get a dusting of sugar, chilli and sanchar (black salt). They are crisp, light and tangy, and a lovely tea-time snack. Pounding the dough until pale makes them extra crisp.
Sata are rich, flaky rounds made from a ghee dough. Half the dough is cooked with extra ghee until golden and worked back in, which gives them their crumbly, layered texture. Fry them slowly over low heat. For salted sata, add ¾ teaspoon salt to the dough. For sweet sata, dip the fried sata in a thick sugar syrup and sprinkle with almond and pistachio flakes.
Badam pak is a rich almond sweet: coarsely ground almonds and mawa (khoya) roasted in ghee, mixed with puffed edible gum and cardamom, then bound in a saffron sugar syrup and pressed into a tray. It's nutty, chewy and fragrant. Makes about 35 squares; the book also gives a soft 'hot badam pak' to serve warm.
Kaju katli is one of the best-loved Indian sweets: finely ground cashews bound with a sugar and milk syrup, rolled thin, scattered with nuts and cut into diamonds. It's smooth, dense and delicately sweet with saffron and cardamom. Makes about 40 diamonds; perfect for Diwali boxes and gifts.
Katlo pak is a traditional Gujarati winter sweet, eaten for strength and warmth: wheat flour and oats roasted in ghee with fried edible gum, coconut, nuts and a warming blend of katlo, dill, aniseed, fenugreek, ginger and spices, set with a dark jaggery 'pie'. It's crumbly, rich and spicy-sweet. Makes about 50 pieces; eat one a day in the cold months.
Kesaria ghari are pretty fluted sweets: a soft coating of paneer and mawa (khoya) cooked with sugar and milk wraps a golden filling of coconut and milk powder in saffron syrup. They're milky, delicate and fragrant with cardamom. Press them in a patterned mould and decorate with flaked nuts; the recipe makes 14.
A striking three-layer barfi: a white layer of milk powder and coconut, a middle of melted chocolate, and a yellow layer of saffron cashew fudge on top. Cut into diamonds, it shows off its stripes and tastes rich, nutty and creamy. Makes 30–35; a showpiece for festive sweet boxes.
Magaj (magas) is a classic Gujarati sweet: coarse gram flour rubbed with milk and ghee (dhraba), roasted in ghee until golden, then mixed with sugar, almonds, pistachios and cardamom and set in a tray. It's crumbly, rich and nutty. Makes 20 pieces; a Diwali favourite that keeps well.
A modern layered barfi: a chewy base of dates, coconut, cornflakes, chocolate cereal and pistachio, a creamy top of condensed milk, cashews and almonds, and a marbled dark and white chocolate finish. It's rich, crunchy and silky all at once. Makes 35–40 rectangles; great for parties and gift boxes.
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