Namkeens in jars

A packet goes soft by the second evening. A jar with a good lid does not. That is why the house namkeens at Copperpot sit in tall clear jars under a maroon label, on a shelf near South Kolkata, Kolkata.

Murukku and chakli spirals, the cheese jar, and small tubs of the mixes people ask for by name. Sealed under the maroon label and ready for the sideboard, where a good jar tends to end up.

Four jars of murukku and chakli spirals, golden and tightly coiled, each labelled Copperpot Namkeen House — Murukku and chakli: the two spirals that empty fastest.

A glass shelf holding Copperpot jars of murukku, packets of khakhra and small jars of mixes against a pale yellow wall — The jar shelf, with khakhra and small mixes alongside.

Jars of spiral namkeen and cut sticks standing on the white marble counter — Murukku and cut sticks on the marble, waiting to be packed.

A tall shelf of Copperpot jars and small tubs beside packets of khakhra, stacked to the ceiling — Jars, tubs and khakhra, floor to ceiling.

Jars of murukku beside stacked boxes of honey dry-fruit cake, all under the Copperpot label — The jars share a shelf with the honey dry-fruit cake.

Stacked clear boxes with maroon Copperpot labels, murukku jars to their left — Boxes and jars, packed for carrying.

Why a jar, not a packet

Kolkata air is damp for eight months of the year. A namkeen that is crisp in the shop is only as good as what it travels in. The jars seal, they stack, and they go straight onto the table when guests arrive, which is where most of them end up.

A jar on the sideboard says something a packet never will: that the house takes its guests seriously.

What to ask for

Murukku, the tight rice-flour spiral
Chakli, the wider, crunchier coil
The cheese jar, for people who claim not to like namkeen
Khakhra: Punjabi tadka and pakodi pocket
Small tubs and jars of mixes

Stock changes with the season and the day. Prices are given at the counter or on the phone.

Call the shop See what only Copperpot makes