The name Meet Mirsang comes from the Konkani language — meet meaning salt, mirsang meaning chilli. Together they describe a paste that sits at the very heart of the Mangalorean Catholic kitchen: dried chillies, cumin, and salt, ground with vinegar until thick and smooth, bottled and kept in the fridge for months.
It is what goes on the fish before it is fried. It is what makes a simple mackerel extraordinary. And it is what reminds every Mangalorean, wherever they are in the world, of their grandmother's kitchen.
Every Mangalorean Catholic home had one — a bottle of meet mirsang paste, deep red, always in the fridge, always fetched with the same spoon. The fish would be slashed on both sides, the paste applied generously by hand, set aside for half an hour. Then rolled in rava and fried. The sizzle said everything.
Traditionally made on a vaan — the manual stone grinder — the paste kept its flavour because the grinding stone stayed cool. Electric blenders bring heat; heat changes taste. The masala was then scooped with a katti (a clean coconut shell) and preserved in vinegar — originally toddy vinegar, made from palm wine set in the sun for three weeks.
Meet mirsang goes beyond fish. Tossed with fresh prawns. Rubbed on sliced pathrade before pan-frying. Stirred into lamb mince cutlets. A spoonful transforms a workday chicken curry — marinate with meet mirsang, curd, and ginger-garlic; fry onions, cook through, finish with coconut milk. Done.
Homemade is always better. There are hundreds of small home kitchens across India making masalas, chutneys, pickles, and baked goods the traditional way — and almost no simple, honest place to find them. MeetMirsang is that place. A listing platform, not a marketplace. Brands connect directly with buyers. No commissions, no payment processing, no middleman. Just discovery.
The story of meet mirsang was beautifully documented by Ruth Dsouza Prabhu for the Goya Journal. We are grateful for their writing, which inspired the name and soul of this platform.
Read on Goya Journal