The love of lapsi

Hari Bahadur Karki was seven years old when he first tasted lapsi in his hometown of Pharping. The raw fruit was very sour and at first he didn’t like it, but over time the taste grew on him. Now in his 70s, Karki tends lapsi trees on his two ropanis of land in Pharping. Though the family is engaged in other farming as well, every February Karki’s son Ishwor travels to Kathmandu with four sacks of lapsis from their farm.

The Karkis’ lapsis are bought up in no time, and the family is happy with its sales. The demand for lapsi in Kathmandu is so great, supply cannot keep up.

"When I was first introduced to lapsi, I picked it from a tree,” says Karki, “I didn’t know the fruit would be so much in demand in the city. I was so surprised to learn that we could add all sorts of spices, from sour to sweet, and consume it with our daily meal as a pickle, or that it could even be a candy.” Indeed, during the September-January lapsi harvesting season, households all over Kathmandu make multiple varieties of homemade pickles and sweet-and-sour candies from this favourite fruit.

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Lapsi (Choerospondias axillaris) is a tree native to much of Asia, including China, India, Vietnam, and Thailand and as far east as Japan. According to botanist Tirtha Bahadur Shrestha, it comes from the Anacardiaceae family – the same genus as mangoes – whose fruits have moist, thick pulp on the outside and a hard kernel on the inside. In English lapsis are often called Nepali hog plums, but Shrestha avoids this term so as not to confuse it with the real hog plum (Spondias mombin) similar to the lapsi but is native to the tropical Americas.

Lapsis are cultivated particulary in hilly regions and the trees grow up to 30m high. Unlike other members of the Anacardiaceae family, Choerospondias axillaris trees can be male or female, and farmers may not be able to differentiate between them until they have reached maturity. Female trees give more fruit.

Vijaya Shrestha of Machhindra Bahal in Kathmandu always woke up to a house smelling strongly of lapsi. Shrestha’s maternal family, and especially his aunt, made mada and titaura from lapsi peels and pulp. The mouth-watering candies were then sold at the family’s Paun Bhandar in Ratna Park.

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Opened almost 50 years ago, Ratna Park Paun Bhandar was once hugely popular. Business did so well that in 1997 it shifted production out of the family kitchen and into a factory in Matatirtha, which now churns out more than 30 varieties of titaura. In 2017, the shop itself moved from Ratna Park to New Road.

According to Vijaya Shrestha, lapsi is very popular and the supply falls well short of demand. The Paun Bhandar needs 2,000 to 3,000 kg of lapsi a day to make four types of treats – dry titaura, mada, jhol titaura, and candies. A current favourite among customers is the recently introduced lapsi choila titaura.

“The best thing about lapsi is, it can move between sweet and sour ingredients when used to make pickles, candies or mada. It can absorb any taste, making it an interesting food,” said Shrestha.

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Lapsi also has health benefits. In Newar culture, after a heavy meal guests are offered paun:kwa, a thin lapsi gravy. “The purpose of serving paun:kwa after a meal is for digestion. Lapsi helps prevent stomach ache,” says Shrestha.

Public health advocate Aruna Upreti concurs. “The tanginess of lapsi helps in digestion and it has many micronutrients, including iron and vitamin C.” She adds that lapsi, as anything, should be eaten in moderation. “You eat to enjoy the taste, not to fill your tummy. If you go overboard, lapsi itself will give you a stomach ache.”

Lapsi is such a popular fruit of the Nepal hills that many carry it abroad with them when they leave. Lisa Sherchan, 27, has lived in New York for the past 10 years and every time she visits Kathmandu or has anyone visiting from here, she asks them to bring her titaura. “I particularly like the jhol titaura, but I ask for the spicy dry one as carrying liquid food items is restricted.”

Sherchan remembers buying titaura wrapped in newspaper for two rupees when she was a child. Now, five packets of titaura last her nine months, and if she has a stash, she will never feel far from home.

She adds: “Whenever I miss home, I plop a titaura in my mouth and this brings Kathmandu to New York.”