Over the past decade of documenting food stories across South India, I have often found myself explaining that South Indian cuisine is not a single category.
It is not just idli, dosa, sambar, or biryani.
It is the fiery complexity of Rayalaseema cuisine, the subtle coconut-rich flavours of Kerala, the robust meat traditions of Kongunadu, the layered spice routes of Malabar, the seafood cultures of coastal Karnataka, and the slow-cooked comfort of Chettinad kitchens. Yet, despite this diversity, South Indian food is still frequently viewed through a narrow national lens.
As someone who has represented South India as an academy member with Culinary Culture since its inception and, more recently, served on the jury for the NDTV Food Awards 2026, I have had the opportunity to participate in conversations around what defines culinary excellence in India.
Those experiences have reinforced a question I have been asking myself for years: can a country as diverse as India evaluate its restaurants using a single framework?
India is not one dining market. A diner in Mumbai approaches a restaurant differently from someone in Chennai. The expectations of a guest in Delhi are not necessarily the same as those of someone dining in Kochi or Hyderabad. Every city has its own food culture, shaped by history, economics, migration, and local sensibilities.
In many Southern cities, people are deeply invested in food but engage with restaurant culture differently. While some markets celebrate novelty and destination dining, others value consistency, familiarity, and emotional connection. A restaurant that has served generations of families over decades is as important to its city’s food culture as a new chef-led concept.
Mumbai celebrates experimentation. Delhi embraces destination dining and spectacle. Bengaluru thrives on chef-led innovation. Chennai, on the other hand, values consistency and authenticity. Kochi celebrates local sourcing and cultural memory. Hyderabad balances legacy with scale. These differences are not limitations. They are what make India’s food landscape so fascinating.
Restaurants with strong marketing ecosystems naturally enjoy greater visibility. However, a restaurant’s ability to tell its story should not be confused with the significance of the story itself.
Yet, when it comes to national recognition, we often rely on similar markers of excellence: chef visibility, media presence, social media recall, design aesthetics, luxury positioning, and PR outreach. These are important indicators, but they are not universal ones. Beyond Bengaluru, many Southern cities are not traditionally chef-driven markets. Restaurants are often built around founders, family legacies, and community trust rather than celebrity chefs.
Restaurants across different cities operate very differently. Their reputations are built through word of mouth, repeat customers, and community loyalty rather than media visibility. They do not have dedicated PR teams or agencies pitching their stories to national publications. They are not optimising menus for social media. They are not necessarily chasing awards. They are simply focused on serving good food consistently. And yet, their impact on local food culture can be immense.
A restaurant in Madurai may shape the eating habits of generations without ever making it to a national list. A seafood institution in Kerala may define a region’s culinary identity without appointing a chef spokesperson. A neighbourhood restaurant in Chennai may become part of a city’s collective memory simply by doing one thing exceptionally well for decades. This difference in how markets operate is often overlooked.
Take Chennai, for example.
The city has one of the country’s strongest communities of Korean and Japanese expatriates, leading to a thriving ecosystem of authentic East Asian restaurants. Many of these establishments are run by expatriates themselves and cater to a deeply informed audience.
Yet, when viewed through a national lens, Chennai is still reduced to a city of sambar, idli, and biryani. Those dishes are undeniably part of its identity, but they do not tell the complete story.
Food cultures are not museums. They are living, evolving ecosystems shaped by migration, economics, technology, and the communities that inhabit them. This ability to embrace new influences while preserving culinary traditions is what makes regional food cultures dynamic. The challenge arises when we continue to define cities by a handful of dishes rather than acknowledging the complexity of their evolving food identities.
The challenge, therefore, is not merely one of representation. It is one of perspective. Are we evaluating restaurants based on the contexts in which they operate? Or are we unconsciously measuring every market against the same metro-centric yardstick?
This is not an argument against innovation, fine dining, or chef-led restaurants. Nor is it a call for token representation. Excellence should remain the benchmark. But excellence can take many forms. A restaurant preserving culinary traditions with consistency and integrity deserves as much consideration as one pushing boundaries through experimentation. Authenticity and innovation are not opposing ideas. Legacy and modernity can coexist.
National awards and platforms play an important role in shaping public perception. They influence where people travel, what they eat, and whose stories get told. As India’s dining landscape continues to evolve, perhaps our frameworks for recognition need to evolve alongside it.
Because the question is not whether one region deserves more awards than another.
The real question is this:
Are we recognising the best restaurants in India, or are we recognising the restaurants that best fit our existing definitions of excellence?
