Authentic Sarson ka Saag Recipe | Punjabi Winter Special Dish

Authentic Sarson ka Saag Recipe | Punjabi Winter Special Dish — my messy, happy winter plate#

So. Sarson ka saag season hits and I basically lose all chill. The minute the air gets that crisp bite and the markets start piling mustard greens in ridiculous mountains, I’m like, ok, we’re doing this again. I grew up with a lot of winter foods, but the first time I had proper Punjabi saag in Amritsar—steam fogging the dhaba windows, metal thalis clanking, somebody yelling for more makhan—it kinda rewired me. Like, how did something so simple taste that deep. And then the white butter on top… oh man. Butter that squeaks just a lil because it's so fresh.¶

Why sarson hits different (to me, anyway)#

Mustard greens have this bold, slightly bitter backbone that just—stands up. Then you sneak in bathua (lamb’s quarters) for that earthy mellow, maybe a bit of palak if you want to soften the loudness, and let it simmer low till it turns into this green, silky, chunky, soulful thing. Not a puree. More like a slow-cooked story. It smells like ginger and garlic and wood smoke in my head even when I cook it on my tiny induction hob in a city apartment. I swear I can taste January in it.¶

• That texture: not baby food, not leafy stew, something in-between with little green nubs you can chew
• The tempering—ghee, lots of it, with browned garlic and green chiles—just wakes it up
• Makki di roti on the side, a dab of safed makhan (white butter), sliced mooli with salt… complete vibe
• And it ages well. Next-day saag? Don’t even get me started, it’s better

The tiny Amritsar morning that wrecked me, lol#

Me and my friend wandered near Hall Gate on a foggy morning a few winters back, and ducked into this small dhaba because our noses basically dragged us in. Barely any decor, just steel plates and a massive pot of green bubbling. The guy slapped down hot makki roti with a blob of white butter like a snowball and a katori of saag that looked… humble. First bite. Silence. Then I started grinning like an idiot. I don’t got words sometimes, you know? It tasted like someone’s grandma had been stirring it since Diwali. That day I learned that saag is patience pretending to be lunch.¶

CopySaag isn’t a puree. It’s a slow conversation between greens, ghee, and time.

What I’m seeing lately on winter menus and feeds#

The winter thali wave just keeps rolling. Even through 2024 into this season, I keep spotting more places leaning into hyper-local greens, cold-pressed mustard oil, and house-churned butter. Farmers’ markets are pushing mustard microgreens for garnish, which actually slap on saag if you want a fresh peppery pop. And folks are doing fun little crossovers at pop-ups—makki chips in the air-fryer as a crunchy side, or tiny saag bites on millet crackers because the whole millet-focus hasn’t slowed down after the hype. Home cooks are using instant pots for the first cook, then finishing the saag low in a kadhai for that slow-simmer flavor. Not mad at it at all.¶

My almost-authentic sarson ka saag (the way I make it when I miss Punjab)#

I don’t pretend this is the most purist version—please don’t fight me aunties—but it hits all the winter notes. You’ll need: a big bunch of sarson (mustard greens), a good bunch of bathua if you can find it (do look, it changes everything), and a lil palak to balance. A thumb of ginger, a whole lot of garlic, a couple of green chiles, maybe an onion if that’s your jam. Makki ka atta to thicken. Ghee (or mustard oil if you roll that way), salt, a smidge of jaggery if the greens are biting, and that glorious white butter to finish. If you get methi leaves, toss a handful in—tiny bitterness bloom that I love.¶

• Clean the greens like you mean it. Mud hides everywhere. Roughly chop—stems stay if they’re not woody, they add body.
• In a big pot or pressure cooker, add greens, 1–2 green chiles, sliced ginger, a few garlic cloves, salt, and a splash of water. I do a pressure cook for 2–3 whistles or a covered simmer for about 45–60 min. Low and slow wins.
• Once tender, mash. Old-school is a wooden mathani. I use a potato masher and then a few short pulses with a hand blender—never a full blitz. We want texture.
• Stir in 2–3 tbsp makki ka atta. Either sprinkle straight and whisk hard or make a slurry with a bit of water. Simmer another 20–30 min. It should burp like a lazy volcano and thicken to a spoon-coating green.
• Tadka time. Heat ghee in a small pan, add chopped garlic and let it go light brown, then some chopped onions if you want that sweet base, and a tiny pinch of hing if you like. I add a chopped green chile or a pinch of Kashmiri red chilli for color.
• Pour the tadka into the saag. It’ll hiss and smell like winter. Taste. If it’s too bitter, a marble-sized piece of jaggery melts it out without turning it sweet.
• Rest it, covered, 10–15 min. Honestly, an overnight nap in the fridge makes it legendary. Top with white butter when serving.

Saag is one of those foods that forgives you if you pay it with time. Don’t rush the second simmer. Also don’t over-blend—you’ll lose the whole farmhouse texture and end up with green baby mush. Ask me how I know. I’ve made that mistake twice, maybe thrice, who’s counting.¶

Mistakes I kept making (so you don’t have to)#

• Using only spinach. Nah. You can do it in a pinch but then it’s not saag-saag, it’s just nice spinach curry
• Too much water. Saag should gently blorp, not swim
• Skipping makki ka atta. It’s the soul-thickener. Wheat flour changes the taste
• Over-garlic in tadka till bitter. We want golden, not burnt brown-brown
• Not salting early. Greens need salt during the first cook to round the bite

Where to eat it if your kitchen’s like, nope today#

If you’re in Amritsar in season, the classic dhabas have your back—Kesar Da Dhaba, Bharawan, Brothers. They’ve been doing this longer than I’ve been alive and it shows. In Delhi, winter menus at places like Gulati or even old-school Punjabi joints around Rajouri and CP quietly roll out saag that tastes like Sunday. Mumbai has Pritam in Dadar and Oye Kake that often do a nice, buttery take when mustard greens hit the markets. London diaspora spots? I’ve had good seasonal saag at Brilliant in Southall, and occasionally at Pakistani-Punjabi grills like Tayyabs when the greens are peaking. In NYC, Punjabi Grocery & Deli in the East Village keeps it humble and hearty. Always ask if it’s the seasonal batch—fresh greens make all the difference.¶

How to serve it so it really sings#

Makki di roti is the best friend. The dough is a lil tricky—cornmeal doesn’t have gluten, so use warm water, add a spoon of wheat flour if you must (controversial, I know), and pat it between sheets or on a board with wet hands. Cook till it gets brown specks, then butter it like you mean it. I do a side of mooli salad with salt, lemon, and a dash of red chilli. Sometimes a tiny bowl of jaggery and a spoon of white butter sit on the thali, because why not. A drizzle of warm ghee over the saag just before serving? It’s like turning the brightness up on a photo.¶

Little winter trends I’m lowkey loving with saag right now#

• House-churned white butter showing up more in small dairies and pop-ups—clean flavor, softer melt, I’m obsessed
• Makki crisps in the air-fryer as a crunchy side. Sprinkle chaat masala, dunk into saag like chips n dip
• Farm boxes offering bathua and mustard blends so you don’t have to hunt three markets for the right mix
• Instant pot first, kadhai finish—it’s become a weeknight lifesaver without ditching depth

Tiny FAQ I keep getting in DMs#

• Can I skip bathua? Yeah, but it’s like listening to your fav song on tiny phone speakers. Still good, missing warmth
• Kale instead of sarson? If you must. Blanch first. It’s sturdy and a little bossy
• Mustard oil vs ghee? I love ghee for tadka. If you adore that pungent kick, heat mustard oil to smoking, cool a bit, then temper. Don’t nobody want raw mustard sting
• Vegan? Use mustard oil for tadka and finish with a good olive oil or nut butter swirl. Not traditional, still lush
• Freezer friendly? Yup. Freeze in flat bags. Reheat gently with a splash of water and a fresh tadka to wake it up

A quick note on ingredients quality#

Fresh mustard greens make or break it. Look for perky leaves and sturdy stems, no yellowing. Bathua can be sandy, so rinse like five times—no shame. Good ghee matters. If you can score village-style white butter from a trusted dairy or farmers’ market, oh boy, that dollop turns the whole plate into a cuddle. And please, taste as you go. Greens change week to week and you gotta cook with your tongue, not just a recipe.¶

Final food thoughts#

Every winter I promise I’ll make a double batch and share and then I end up hoarding two bowls like a goblin because it’s cold outside and saag is warm and I’m only human. It’s rustic but also kind of elegant in its own way—takes patience, rewards patience. If you try my almost-authentic version, tag me, yell at me, tell me what your family does different. I wanna hear those little rituals. And if you’re collecting cozy recipes and food stories, wander through AllBlogs.in—I keep finding new cooks to follow there and honestly it keeps my winter kitchen fun.¶