It traces back to ancient Europe, when sailors and soldiers carried dry, twice-baked bread for long journeys. The word comes from "rousco"—Latin for "twice baked."
The Dutch and British made rusk popular in the 17th century to prevent bread from spoiling. When the British came to India, they brought tea-time traditions with them—and rusk came along, quietly tucked beside cakes and biscuits.
Once it arrived in India, rusk was quickly adapted to suit local tastes. By the mid-20th century, Indian bakeries had fully localised rusk production. Variants like cardamom rusk and ghee rusk began to appear, making it more appealing to Indian palates.
It was only in the early 20th century that the British-owned Indian Tea Association began promoting tea among Indians to boost local consumption. They encouraged vendors to sell chai with milk and sugar—a far cry from British-style black tea.
Indians made it their own. Street-side chaiwalas began brewing tea with spices, ginger, cardamom, and milk. Chai was no longer a colonial product. It became a working-class ritual, a mid-day pause, a social glue.
And what better companion to a cup of hot chai than a dry, porous rusk that soaks up the flavours perfectly? It was cheap, available at every local bakery or grocery shop, and required no preparation.
Rusk became the great equaliser of Indian snack culture. It didn’t matter whether you were drinking tea in a steel tumbler in a small-town home or sipping it from a fine porcelain cup in a Mumbai apartment. That crisp, satisfying dip was universal.