Thandai and Falooda: The Cooling Drinks of Indian Summers and Festivals

When the heat of an Indian summer presses down, or when Holi splashes the streets with colour, two drinks rise to meet the moment. One is thandai, a spiced almond milk perfumed with fennel and rose, sipped at festivals and revered for its cooling reputation. The other is falooda, less a drink than an edible architecture of rose syrup, soft vermicelli, jelly-like basil seeds and a scoop of ice cream, eaten with a long spoon and a straw. Both are built to refresh, both carry centuries of history, and both translate beautifully to a British kitchen and a warm afternoon.

Thandai: The Festival Cooler

Thandai, whose name comes from the Hindi for cool or cooling, is most closely associated with the north Indian heartland and with two festivals in particular: Holi, the spring festival of colour, and Maha Shivaratri. It is a milk-based drink, but its character comes from a fragrant paste of nuts, seeds and spices ground together and steeped into the milk. Served well chilled, it is sweet, aromatic and genuinely soothing in the heat.

The classic thandai blend is a thing of balance. The backbone is almonds, soaked and ground to a creamy paste, often alongside cashews and the green flesh of pumpkin or melon seeds. The aromatics are where it sings:

• Fennel seeds, or saunf, for a sweet, anise-like coolness that defines the drink.
• Green cardamom and a little black pepper for warmth and a gentle lift.
• Poppy seeds and sometimes a few peppercorns for body and complexity.
• Rose, as petals or rose water, and a thread or two of saffron for fragrance and colour.

These are soaked, ground into a fine paste, and steeped in sweetened milk before being strained and chilled. The result is pale, fragrant and faintly spiced. It is worth noting that during Holi in some regions a cannabis-infused version known as bhang thandai is traditional; the everyday festival drink and the home recipe described here contain no such thing, and are simply the spiced almond milk that families have enjoyed for generations.

Building Thandai at Home

Thandai is forgiving and rewards a little advance planning. A practical method for a British kitchen runs like this:

• Soak almonds and any other nuts and seeds for a few hours, then grind with a splash of milk to a smooth paste, adding the fennel, cardamom, peppercorns and poppy seeds.
• Warm full-fat milk with sugar and saffron, let it cool, then stir in the paste and let it steep for an hour or more in the fridge so the flavours infuse.
• Strain through a fine sieve or muslin for a smooth drink, or leave it textured if you prefer.
• Serve very cold over ice, finished with crushed pistachios or dried rose petals.

Many cooks make a concentrated thandai paste or syrup in advance and simply stir spoonfuls into milk as needed, which is exactly how it is often sold ready-made. A non-dairy version using almond or oat milk works well too.

Falooda: A Dessert You Drink

Falooda is a different beast altogether, and a more theatrical one. It arrived in the subcontinent by way of Persia, where a frozen sweet called faloodeh featured thin starch noodles, and over time it evolved into the layered, colourful creation served across India, Pakistan and Bangladesh today. It is built in a tall glass and meant to be admired before it is eaten, a parfait of textures rather than a simple drink.

The components each play a role:

• Rose syrup, usually the bright pink rose-flavoured syrup that gives falooda its colour and its signature floral sweetness, spooned into the base.
• Falooda sev, soft, slippery vermicelli, traditionally made from cornflour or wheat starch, cooked and cooled so it stays tender.
• Basil seeds, known as sabja or tukmaria, soaked in water until they swell into translucent, jelly-coated little spheres with a pleasant pop. These are also valued, like the whole drink, for their cooling reputation.
• Chilled milk, poured over to bring it together, sometimes sweetened or rose-scented.
• Ice cream, classically kulfi or a scoop of vanilla, crowning the top.

Optional flourishes include chopped nuts, a few jelly cubes, fruit, or a scatter of more basil seeds.

Layering a Falooda at Home

The pleasure of falooda is in the building. Soak the basil seeds well ahead, around twenty minutes in plenty of water, until fully swollen. Cook the falooda vermicelli, which is sold dried in South Asian shops, according to the packet, then rinse it in cold water so it stays loose. Chill everything. Then assemble in a tall, clear glass:

• Start with a generous spoon of rose syrup at the bottom.
• Add a layer of soaked basil seeds, then the cooked vermicelli.
• Pour over cold milk, leaving room at the top.
• Finish with a scoop of ice cream or kulfi, a drizzle more rose syrup, and a scatter of nuts.

Serve immediately with both a long spoon and a thick straw, because half the fun is fishing the basil seeds and vermicelli up through the milk.

Why These Drinks Endure

Both thandai and falooda are products of climate and culture, drinks devised to bring relief from punishing heat and to add joy to festival days. In Britain they have found a happy second home, served at Indian and Bangladeshi sweet shops, at Eid and Holi gatherings, and increasingly on restaurant dessert menus as a colourful, refreshing finish to a meal. They ask for a little preparation, soaking, grinding, layering, but reward it generously. Make a jug of thandai for a sunny afternoon, or build a falooda tall enough to make the table go quiet, and you are taking part in a tradition of cooling, celebratory sweetness that stretches back centuries.