There was a time when Bengali weddings – and the food porn that would follow in their wake – would not be quite complete if guests were not served rosogollas after an overwhelming feast. So, when several large sealed tins reached my sister’s Calcutta wedding venue in 1987, my father took charge of the stock.

He beamed in sheer happiness when one of the tins was cut open to reveal these small white, spongy balls, bobbing in a viscous, sickly sweet liquid.

Audio: The Quint