Skip to content

Wooden-ghani oil from our hometown — pressed slowly, never refined.

Shuchi Ghani

The slow press

Some things shouldn’t be rushed.

Most cooking oil is rushed: steel, heat, sometimes solvents, then bleach and deodoriser until the bottle smells of nothing. Ours isn’t. We clean the seed, turn the pestle, let the oil rest, and filter it. Then we write down the day.

A wooden ghani is a heavy pestle turning inside a mortar. The seed gives way under the weight. It takes longer, and you get less oil. That’s why it still tastes like the seed.

The wooden ghaniWood, weight, and time. That is the whole machine.
  1. Step 01

    The seed

    Everything begins here. A patient press cannot rescue a careless seed — so we choose as if the meal already depends on it.

    Raw groundnuts in a jute sack
  2. Step 02

    Cleaning

    Dust, stones, husk — gone before the pestle ever turns. Clean seed, clean oil. As simple — and as serious — as that.

    Sunflower seeds spread out after cleaning
  3. Step 03

    The ghani turns

    Round and round, slowly. No solvents. No shortcuts. Just wood, weight, and time — until the oil gives itself up.

    Golden oil being poured into a bowl
  4. Step 04

    Resting

    Fresh oil is left alone so the fine particles settle, then gently filtered. Still golden. Still itself.

    Golden oil resting in a metal vessel
  5. Step 05

    Bottled & recorded

    Each batch is bottled, labelled, and written into our ledger — so every bottle can walk back to the day it was pressed.

    Glass bottles filled with golden oil

Their hurry. Our patience.

Same kitchen. Two very different bottles.

How typical refined oil compares with Shuchi Ghani
Typical refined oilShuchi Ghani
How it's pressedHigh-speed steel, often solvents afterA wooden ghani, turning slowly
What happens nextBleached and deodorised until nothing remainsRested and filtered. Nothing taken away
What you tasteNeutral. Same bottle, every time, everywhereThe colour and aroma of the seed itself
Where it's madeAn anonymous plant, somewhereOur own press, in our hometown
How muchAs much as the machines can pushSmall batches, from two wooden ghanis