One quiet day at our local petrol station in Sital Bazar, Dhading, I found myself sipping tea and munching on biscuits with a few locals. Our usual political banter led us to talk about thinkers like Rup Chandra Bista, the philosopher from Daman in Makawanpur district, known for his ‘Thaha’ (meaning ‘to know’) movement—what many today compare to the modern Right to Information. As we chatted, a typical village scene played out in front of us—hens scratching the dirt for food and one rooster, or ‘bhale’ in our local tongue, chasing them relentlessly.
Frustrated by the noisy spectacle, I joked, “Someone should give that rooster a vasectomy!” We all laughed, but that offhand comment suddenly shifted our conversation to a fascinating subject I had never explored before—the famed badhiya or badiya chicken of Lumbini Province, especially from Dang district. Despite being deeply interested in Nepali cuisine, I realized I had never even tasted this dish.
The idea of vasectomy chicken might sound odd at first, but it has deep roots in traditional farming practices. It involves castrating male chickens to improve the quality of the meat. In the past, farmers would perform this painful procedure without anesthesia, often during the scorching summer months, which made recovery difficult for the birds. The goal, however, was to produce a chicken that was fatter, more tender, and more flavorful—qualities that have made badhiya chicken a treasured delicacy.
With time, what began as a rough home practice has become a more structured and humane farming technique. Today, various municipalities and their Agriculture and Livestock Development Departments support local farmers with training and resources. Thanks to modern veterinary care, anesthesia is now used during the procedure, making it safer and more ethical. Additionally, farmers receive government grants of Rs. 100 per bird, making the process not only sustainable but profitable too.
Known as badgiya chicken in some areas, this castrated rooster has become an icon of Nepali culinary pride. In Kathmandu and other urban centers, it’s no longer just a rural dish—it’s a celebration of heritage. Communities such as the Tharu and Badi have kept the tradition alive through generations, passing down both the techniques of poultry care and the secret family recipes that turn this chicken into a mouthwatering meal.
Cooking badhiya chicken is an art form in itself. Traditionally, it’s slow-cooked with spices and herbs that complement the natural richness of the meat. Some prefer to roast it over an open flame, while others stew it in spicy gravy. Either way, the taste became unforgettable—tender, aromatic, and deeply satisfying. For many in the Tharu community, serving this chicken during festivals or special events is a matter of pride and tradition.
Interestingly, Nepal is not alone in this practice. In France, a similar method is used to produce capon, a castrated rooster that’s considered a gourmet dish, especially during holidays. In Spain, capón is part of the festive table too. These global examples show that the idea of castrating poultry for better flavor is not unique to Nepal—it’s part of a wider culinary story that spans continents.
This brings up an exciting thought: What if badhiya chicken from Dang were served in fine-dining restaurants around the world? What if it found a place on international menus alongside dishes like French duck confit or Japanese wagyu? Our humble dish has all the ingredients to make a global impact—rich taste, cultural significance, and a compelling story.
For many in Nepal’s farming and food sectors, the goal of exporting badhiya chicken is more than just a business idea—it’s a chance to share a piece of Nepal’s soul with the world. But doing that requires careful steps: standardizing the process, maintaining hygiene and quality, and building a strong brand that reflects both tradition and innovation.
Government agencies, agricultural experts, and local communities must work together to scale up this initiative. By embracing both modern techniques and traditional knowledge, Nepal can offer something truly unique to global food lovers. And as we move forward, we must remember that the heart of this story lies with the farmers—the people who have preserved this practice for generations, often with limited resources but unlimited passion.
Ever since I heard about badhiya chicken, I’ve been longing to taste it. As I write this, I imagine myself returning to Nepal, catching a flight to Dang, and finally sitting down to enjoy this delicacy. More than just a meal, it would be a moment of connection—to culture, community, and the creative spirit that makes Nepali cuisine so special.
The author is a London-based R&D chef
