For many diners, the mention of Indian cuisine conjures immediate, comforting images of bubbling chicken tikka masala, or the deep, slow-cooked warmth of a lamb shank. It is a cuisine rightfully celebrated for its terrestrial heartiness.

But close your eyes for a moment. Let your senses drift past the bustling spice markets of the interior. A completely different melody begins to play.

It is the sound of crashing waves along the golden coastlines of Kerala. The gentle rustle of coconut palms. The brisk morning air of a Bengali riverbank.

To truly understand Indian food is to realise that its soul is just as deeply intertwined with the sea.

Most Western diners carry a quiet blind spot here. India has over 7,500 kilometres of coastline,  more than the entire length of Western Europe’s Atlantic edge. Yet when it comes to ordering at an Indian restaurant, the same land-based curries get chosen, night after night.

It is worth noting, too, that Indian seafood is a world apart from its Chinese counterpart. Where Chinese coastal cooking often leans on light, quick-wok techniques with clean soy and ginger notes, Indian seafood is slow, aromatic, and deeply layered, built on spice pastes, souring agents, and the unhurried patience of a proper coastal kitchen.

This is not just a different dish. It is a different philosophy of the sea.

Why Indian Seafood Doesn’t Taste “Fishy”

This is the question that holds most new diners back. The fear of a strong, overpowering fish smell is entirely understandable, and entirely misplaced when it comes to Indian cooking.

Indian cuisine has, for centuries, used natural acids to neutralise bold seafood aromas before the pan is even heated. Lime juice, tamarind, and raw mango work on the protein itself, breaking down the compounds responsible for that sharp, briny smell.

Then come the earth-cleansing spices. Turmeric, that brilliant golden powder, is antimicrobial and deeply deodorising. Ginger and garlic paste applied during marination absorb into the flesh and replaces any lingering odour with warmth and depth.

The result is seafood that smells of spice, of coastal air, of toasted mustard seeds. Not of the fishmonger’s slab.

Texture is equally considered. Tandoori cooking chars the exterior of prawns and fish at intense heat, sealing in moisture and creating that satisfying, slightly crispy bite. Rawa frying, coating fish in fine semolina before shallow-frying, delivers a golden, crunchy crust that makes even the most tentative diner lean in for a second piece.

There is also a quiet health argument to be made. Prawns and fish are lean proteins, low in saturated fat. Turmeric carries well-documented anti-inflammatory properties. And coconut-based gravies, for all their lush richness, are considerably lighter than the cream-heavy sauces of Northern Indian cooking.

Indian seafood, prepared well, is both a pleasure and a genuinely nourishing choice.

Two Coastlines, Two Completely Different Worlds

Indian seafood does not come from a single tradition. It comes from two, and they taste nothing alike.

The Coastal Wave – South and West India

Kerala and the Konkan coast rely on coconut in almost every form imaginable. Coconut oil for frying. Fresh coconut cream is stirred in at the last moment to add velvety body. Curry leaves crackling in hot oil. Kokum or tamarind provides a gentle, fruity sourness that lifts the whole dish.

The result is a cuisine that feels tropical, aromatic, and sun-warmed. Every mouthful carries the sea in it.

The River Traditions – East India and Bengal

Bengal tells a different story entirely. Here, the waters are fresh – rivers, ponds, and deltas rather than open ocean. The fish of choice is often Hilsa or Rohu, both freshwater species with a firm, full-flavoured flesh.

The cooking medium is pungent mustard oil, which gives Bengali fish dishes a sharp, almost nose-tingling depth that has no equivalent elsewhere in Indian cuisine. The spice blend is Panch Phoron, five whole spices, including fenugreek, nigella, and fennel – added to hot oil to build a base of complex, earthy warmth.

Where Kerala is gentle and tropical, Bengal is bold and bracing. Both are extraordinary.

The Crown Jewel: King Prawn Malabar

If there is one dish that captures the best of India’s coastal tradition, it is the King Prawn Malabar.

The Malabar Coast, running along present-day Kerala, was once the most prized destination on the ancient spice trade routes. Arab merchants, Portuguese explorers, and Chinese traders all made landfall here, drawn by the extraordinary concentrations of black pepper, cardamom, and turmeric growing in the Western Ghats above.

That history lives in the dish.

The King Prawn Malabar begins with a tadka, whole mustard seeds and fresh curry leaves dropped into hot oil, where they crackle and pop, releasing their volatile oils in a burst of pure aroma. This is not a garnish. This is the structural foundation of the dish.

Fresh green chillies and ginger are added next, building a gentle background heat. Then coconut cream is introduced slowly, carefully, to create a sauce that is velvety, mildly sweet, and deeply fragrant.

As for the spice level: this is not a fiery dish. The coconut cream tempers everything beautifully, resulting in a flavour that is mild-to-medium, approachable for first-timers, and yet complex enough to reward experienced diners. Think of it as the ideal introduction to Indian seafood,  gentle at the door, endlessly interesting once you are inside.

Going Beyond: A Tour of Indian Seafood

Once you have tried the Malabar, the natural question is: what else?

Tandoori Salmon Tikka

Salmon is not a traditional Indian fish; it comes from cold Northern Atlantic waters, far from the subcontinent. And yet it takes the Indian preparation with remarkable grace.

Marinated in mustard oil, dill, honey, and a blend of spices, then cooked in a clay tandoor oven at fierce heat, the salmon emerges with a lightly charred exterior and a centre that is just barely set, meltingly soft, with a gentle smokiness that plays beautifully against the marinade’s sweetness.

It is an unconventional pairing. It is also absolutely delicious.

Pathia and Balchão – The Tangy and the Fierce

Pathia is the sweet-and-sour style of Indian curry – sharp tamarind, a hint of sugar, and a medium chilli heat that makes shellfish sing. If you enjoy contrasting flavours, this is your dish.

Balchão is its Goan cousin, and considerably more assertive. It is built on a base of vinegar, dried red chillies, and a fermented paste that gives the dish an almost pickle-like intensity. Bold, bright, and not for the faint-hearted, but for those who love it, absolutely compelling.

The Bhuna Tradition

Bhuna is slow-patience turned into dinner. Fish or prawns are cooked with caramelised onions over low heat, the gravy reducing and thickening until it clings to every piece rather than pooling beneath it.

The result is intensely concentrated, no excess sauce, no diluted flavours. Just the pure, distilled essence of spice, onion, and seafood in every bite.

For those who want to try something at the adventurous end of Indian seafood, the Bengal Fish Bhuna, made with Tilapia, is the ideal choice.

Experiencing It All at The India – Monument, London EC3

For London diners who want to explore these exact traditions without catching a flight, The India Monument sits at 2 St Mary at Hill, EC3R 8EE, a short walk from Monument station in the heart of the City of London.

Open every day from 11.30 am to 11.30 pm, it is equally suited to a long City lunch or a relaxed evening with friends.

The seafood menu here covers precisely the range of traditions this article has explored. The King Prawn Malabar is the ideal starting point, creamy, aromatic, and mild enough for those newer to Indian seafood, yet layered with the coastal heritage of Kerala’s spice-trading past.

The Tandoori Salmon Tikka showcases how ancient clay-oven technique meets premium fish,  a dish that surprises even diners who consider themselves well-versed in Indian cooking.

For the more adventurous, the Bengal Fish Bhuna with Tilapia brings the full weight of East India’s river-fish tradition to the table. Rich, thick, and deeply spiced.

When it comes to building your meal, the pairing logic is straightforward. A rich coconut-based curry like the Malabar calls for fluffy Pilau rice, which absorbs the gravy and provides a gentle, fragrant counterpoint. A drier preparation like the Tandoori Salmon sits beautifully alongside a warm Naan or Paratha.

For first-time diners venturing into Indian seafood, the recommended path is simple: start with the King Prawn Malabar, add a shared Pilau rice and Naan, and let the kitchen do the rest. You will not need a second invitation.

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