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Jasmine Pak and George at a table with Nanak brand frozen Indian dessert packages including rasmalai, gulab jamun, and milk cake

Nanak Frozen Indian Desserts: Our Honest Taste Test

Taste Tests9 min read

We went to the Indian grocery store for biryani ingredients. We wandered into the frozen section, I spotted rasmalai, George spotted milk cake, and by the time we made it back to the cart we had ourselves an accidental Indian dessert haul. No complaints.

What Is Nanak, and Why Are We Doing This?

Nanak is a Canadian brand that makes frozen Indian dairy sweets — rasmalai, milk cake, gulab jamun, and more — sold at Indian grocery stores across North America. We had tried making rasmalai ourselves a couple of times with mixed results, and readers from those videos kept commenting that we should try the Nanak version. Some also pushed us toward milk cake, specifically saying that if George likes rasmalai, he'll love milk cake. George read that comment and immediately agreed. Into the cart it went.

We grabbed everything we could find: milk cake, rasgulla, original rasmalai, mango rasmalai, and gulab jamun. One note up front: four of the five are from Nanak. The rasgulla is a different brand, made in India, and that distinction turns out to matter in a way we weren't expecting. Jasmine standing in her kitchen behind all five Nanak Indian dessert boxes including mango rasmalai, rasmalai, rasgulla, milk cake, and gulab jamun

Fair warning that these are not budget-friendly. This haul was not cheap, and we'll call out prices for each item as we go. Whether that's worth it is the whole question.

All Five Desserts, Rated in the Order We Tried Them

Milk Cake (Kalakand)

Starting strong, as it turns out. Milk cake (kalakand, as George's co-workers eventually told him after months of him just asking what it was called) was $11 for 12 pieces. That works out to about a dollar a piece. George did the mental math and said he would pay $2.50 for four pieces. High praise from a man who tracks grocery receipts.

The texture is hard to describe. We went back and forth on it. George landed on "half pound cake, half cookie." I said "bready cheesecake." We eventually agreed it was something like if you left a cheesecake sitting out for a full day: very crumbly, still moist, a little dense in the best possible way. The flavor, to me, is pure condensed milk. Nothing else. George disagreed with my "very sweet" read and thought it was more restrained, and he might have a point. We both gave it a 10 out of 10. Two hands cutting into a block of Nanak milk cake kalakand with a fork, showing its dense crumbly texture

George's exact words: "It's flawless. There's nothing wrong with it at all."

I could eat the entire box by myself in one sitting. I am not saying I did. I am not saying I didn't.

Bonus mental image we could not let go of: crumbled milk cake on top of cardamom ice cream with saffron and pistachios. Someone needs to make this happen. Jasmine holding a single slice of Nanak milk cake kalakand showing its crumbly golden-topped texture

Rasgulla

This is the only non-Nanak item in the haul, made in India, $10 for 15 pieces. And it is different in ways that are hard to describe at first. We spent a while debating how rasgulla differs from rasmalai beyond the obvious structural things: rasgulla sits in sugar syrup, rasmalai sits in sweetened milk; rasgulla is a ball, rasmalai is a disc. What we didn't expect was how different they feel to eat. Side-by-side comparison of a torn rasgulla ball on the left and a broken rasmalai disc on the right showing their different textures

There's a slight squeakiness to the texture — George compared it directly to the rasmalai we made in an earlier video, which we thought had come out well — and when you squeeze the syrup out, the inside opens up into something that looks almost like bread or a honeycomb. We both tried it squeezed and soaked and strongly preferred soaked. Draining the syrup strips away most of what makes it enjoyable.

The honest take on flavor: it's mild. "A hybrid between mild yogurt and milk soaked in rose syrup" is what I said in the video and I stand by it. Not complex, not bold, clean and pleasant. Not boring, exactly, but not assertive either. I gave it a 7 out of 10. George felt roughly the same, and also pointed out that following the milk cake put this one at a structural disadvantage. That's fair. The rasgulla is a simple dessert. It was never trying to compete. Hand squeezing a rasgulla ball over a white plate, with sugar syrup dripping down

Rasmalai Original

A single Nanak rasmalai disc balanced on a wooden spoon above a tray of rasmalai in creamy white sauce

Okay. This is the one.

We love rasmalai. We have made it twice. Our attempts were fine — decent sweetness, a little squeaky, not revelatory. This Nanak version was revelatory.

The texture is so soft that the move is to press it against the roof of your mouth with your tongue and let it come apart there. George ate one and said it was "one of those moments where time just stands still and you're going to enjoy the rasmalai forever." That is a direct quote. He then said 20 out of 10. The rabdi (the sweetened milk it soaks in) is a fraction as sweet as the version we made ourselves, which turns out to be the key: our homemade version was syrup-forward in a way that got heavy fast. This one is creamy and delicate and just sweet enough. Hand squeezing a rasmalai disc over a white cup with cream dripping down

My rating: 10 out of 10, then 11. "This might be admittedly some of the best rasmalai I've ever had," I said, slightly embarrassed, because we eat rasmalai at Indian restaurants regularly and this is a frozen grocery product. It earned the rating.

We also tried it slightly frozen because the centers were still cold when we opened the package. Also excellent. Rasmalai ice cream is a real genre and we are converts.

Rasmalai Mango

We had never seen a mango rasmalai before and grabbed it immediately. The mango rabdi is looser and more runny than the original, much brighter in color. George said it looked like mango lassi before we even opened the package, which was accurate. The discs themselves are larger and slightly more solid, with just a faint squeak at the center — what I called "a whisper of a squeak." A mango rasmalai disc on a wooden spoon above a tray of rasmalai in yellow mango sauce

The flavor hit both of us hard in a good way. George's first three words were: "What the?" His follow-up comparison was to Melona, the Korean mango ice cream bar: creamy, tropical, real mango flavor that doesn't taste artificial. I gave it a 10 out of 10. George gave it 10.5, then clarified he needed the half point of separation to preserve that he likes the original more. Fair system.

If you see the mango version at the store, get both. You do not need to choose. Hands pulling apart a mango rasmalai disc to reveal its yellow interior above a white cup

Gulab Jamun

Last but not least, and the only one that requires a microwave. Gulab jamun is George's least favorite dessert in this category — he is fundamentally a dairy-forward person, and gulab jamun doesn't give him that — so when his first reaction was "Is that the best gulab jamun I've ever had?", I made a note of it.

The difference from restaurant versions, we agreed, is that this one tastes like a cardamom donut rather than a pancake soaked in syrup. There's spice and depth that we don't usually get. To show George what cardamom actually smells like, I held a pod up to his nose. His description: "ginger adjacent — like they could be cousins, they smell like they could live in the same household, just in different rooms." This is very accurate and also a good way to introduce someone to cardamom. Hand holding a dark brown glazed gulab jamun ball over a white plate with syrup dripping off

My rating: 10 out of 10. George, who does not love gulab jamun as a genre: 8 out of 10. He called it the best gulab jamun he's ever had and still gave it an 8. I think 8 from someone who's lukewarm on the category is genuinely high praise.

Practical note: if gulab jamun is usually too sweet for you, drain a little of the syrup before eating. We tried it both ways and lightly drained was the move for me.

One detail that hit us mid-haul: I'm lactose intolerant, and four of these five desserts are milk-based. I did not take any lactose pills. George looked at me and said "oh shoot." We kept eating anyway. I regret nothing. Hands breaking open a gulab jamun ball to show its soft fluffy interior above a white plate

The Final Verdict

George's overall favorite: rasmalai. No hesitation, no debate.

Mine: also rasmalai, with milk cake as a very close second.

Full ranking from the tasting:

  1. Rasmalai Original — the best frozen version either of us has tried, competitive with what we get at good Indian restaurants
  2. Milk Cake (Kalakand) — dangerously easy to eat, pure condensed milk energy, both of us gave it a 10
  3. Rasmalai Mango — tropical, creamy, unique; only loses to the original because the original has our whole heart
  4. Gulab Jamun — genuinely surprised us with its cardamom depth; worth trying even if it's not usually your order
  5. Rasgulla — pleasant and simple; a 7 is a fair dessert, just not the showstopper the others are

Price-wise, none of these are cheap. The rasmalais are $15 each, the milk cake $11, the gulab jamun $11. If you have to pick one or two to start: milk cake and the original rasmalai. Those two alone justified the entire haul.

And yes, we will be going back for the canned versions to see if frozen beats canned. That is a separate video. Stay tuned.

Jasmine Pak

Jasmine Pak

Recipe developer, travel storyteller, and the voice behind Jasmine Belle Pak. Sharing honest guides and tested recipes from around the world.

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