Sorry to my lovely Le Creuset - this romantic, rustic pot is total perfection

I never imagined the day would come when I’d leave my Le Creuset tucked quietly in its drawer in preference to another pot. Now, I've learnt my lesson in never saying never, especially when there's Longpi stoneware on the scene.

If it weren’t for Toast, my favourite place to wander and shop, I might never have stumbled upon a treasure like the Longpi Karipot. The brand, Tiipoi Longpi, works with master craftsmen in a remote village in India, creating hand-built, sun-dried, wood-fired cookware that feels as soulful as it looks. Owning a piece like this feels like a privilege; cooking with it feels like self care. How many people can say that about their cast iron casserole dishes?

I know the whole master craftsman, wood fired story might sound like the recipe for an expensive cliché. But I promise, this pot is the real thing. From its burnished, naturally non-stick surface to its soft, organic silhouette, the Karipot is full of charm, character, and, at this very moment, my casserole mix. It’s a rustic ode to slow living: an invitation to pause, savour, and fall in love with cooking all over again.

TOAST Small Longpi Karipot review

Hand-built in the village of Longpi in northeast India, this karipot is crafted from a unique blend of river clay and ground serpentine stone traditionally used by local artisans. Each pot is shaped by hand, sun-dried, and wood-fired to achieve its signature deep black patina and naturally protective, burnished finish. Designed for slow cooking and everyday use, it embodies generations of craft while offering remarkable durability and character. Below, you’ll find the full specifications and care details for this distinctive Longpi cooking pot.

Who would the TOAST Small Longpi Karipot suit?

This pot will suit anyone who treasures the gentle, grounding side of cooking, the people who love taking their time, filling the kitchen with slow, steady aromas, and finding comfort in simple rituals.

It’s perfect for home cooks who appreciate craft, character, and a story behind the things they use every day. If you’re drawn to rustic aesthetics, natural materials, and cookware that feels almost like an heirloom the moment you hold it, the Karipot will speak to you.

It’s also a lovely match for those who enjoy soups, stews, roasts, and anything that benefits from tenderness and patience. And if you’ve ever wanted an excuse to romanticise your weeknight meals, this pot gives you one, beautifully.

Unboxing the TOAST Small Longpi Karipot

The packaging for Toast's Longi Karipot is so understated, so quiet in its simplicity that I didn't even realise I had finished unboxing until I had some flattened cardboard on the worktop and this lovely pot to the left of it.

Sitting on my kitchen counter, I knew I was in trouble. I love textures, wobbles on the edges of plates, and dimples in bowls, so when I saw the matte black finish on the Longi Karipot with its finger printed lid and hand-shaped finish, I knew I had something quietly precious in my home. And now I'm here to shout about it.

When I lifted the lid off the Longi Karipot, I spotted a stack of leaflets nestled inside. Normally, when I’m at home and not in full product-testing mode, these get filed away in a drawer, only to be fished out when I’m asking the classic questions: Is this oven safe? Can it go in the dishwasher? But with the Karipot, I urge you to pause and read every page. This is cookware born of craft and ritual, and the accompanying notes feel almost like a conversation with the people who made it. They teach you how to care for your pot, beginning with the simple act of seasoning.

What is the TOAST Small Longpi Karipot like to use?

Let's start with seasoning the Longpi Karipot. If you've owned woks and grills before, you'll be familiar with the process and all the simple tips and tricks in the kitchen that will help you to keep your cookware in order. I, however, have never had to season my Staub or Le Creuset, so I was excited to see what I needed to do with the Longpi Karipot.

It's a little labour of love getting this ready for cooking: you do it once and then repeat it infrequently, whenever you think the non-stick needs some help. The leaflet says to use sesame oil to brush the inside of the pot, then sit it in the oven on a high heat for a couple of hours until the sheen disappears and the pot has settled. After that, it's ready, steady, and waiting for your latest slow, soulful dish.

I put every cast-iron casserole dish I test through the same series of trials, and the Longpi Karipot was no exception. First up: onions. Because the Karipot is a little smaller than many of the heavy pots I usually work with, I swapped my usual two-onion base for one large chopped onion spread generously across the bottom.

It cooked beautifully on the stone surface: the onions caramelised, softened, and sweetened slowly, but surely. WIthin five minutes, a couple of minute longer than my Le Creuset needs, I had some beautiful fried onion.

The black interior does make it harder to see the exact moment they turn from pale to honeyed, and I couldn’t watch the fond gathering at the edges ready for deglazing in quite the same way. But you adjust. You learn the pot’s rhythms. And soon enough, I found myself loving the way it encouraged me to rely on instinct rather than colour alone.

Those onions made the perfect base for both a risotto and a casserole, so naturally, I made both. The casserole was the standout. I toasted spices until fragrant, then added chopped tomatoes, garlic, and let everything soften together. Tomato paste, tinned tomatoes, wine, and stock followed. The Karipot’s gently curved rim held moisture inside beautifully, letting the flavours mingle without drying out.

After a quick stir, I added my vegetables, placed the lid on, and left it to bubble away on a low heat for a few hours. When I finally lifted the lid, a rainfall of condensation poured back into the pot. The carrots were perfectly tender without drifting into mush, and nothing (not a scrap) had stuck to the bottom. A small triumph.

The beauty of the Karipot is the way it transforms. I added dumplings on top, slid the pot into the oven, and it didn’t miss a beat, cooking everything evenly and elegantly.

Next came soup and roasted vegetables, a natural pairing for a pot that feels like a love letter to slower living. I scattered chopped vegetables across the base, coated them in olive oil, and let the oven slowly roast out their sweetness. Forty minutes later, I pulled out a pot of deeply roasted, caramel-edged vegetables, poured in some stock, and blended everything together into a velvety, rich soup.

It was intensely flavourful, quietly luxurious, and so easy to rewarm on the hob. Served on a wooden board with slices of my sourdough (my very serious side hobby), it felt like the epitome of cosy living: simple, honest, deeply satisfying. And, yes, I did put on my Toast jumper to serve it. That's brand loyalty for you.

I even used the Karipot for a simple tofu stir fry, and it surprised me yet again. After pressing the tofu, I slid the cubes into the warm pot with a little oil, letting them sizzle against the stone until their edges turned crisp and golden. The heat builds slowly but holds steady, so nothing scorches, instead, everything softens, browns, and takes on a gentle smokiness. Once the tofu was ready, I added ribbons of vegetables, garlic, ginger, and a splash of soy, letting the flavours weave together. It wasn’t the high-flame drama of a wok, but something quieter and somehow more comforting.

I cooked so many dishes in this pot from crumbles, roasts and roasts to bread and gnocchi, most devoured too quickly for the camera. I did manage to capture my roasted gnocchi, though. I boiled and cooked the pasta right in the pot before adding the vegetables and sliding everything into the oven. The result was glorious: golden, crisp-edged gnocchi nestled in tender vegetables, the kind of dish that disappears faster than you expect.

The Karipot passed every test. And, in truth, made each one feel like something to savour.

Cleaning the TOAST Small Longpi Karipot

I had to be carefyl cleaning the Karipot, especially after being so diligent with the initial seasoning. I used a gentle washing-up liquid from Method and a soft sponge, then left it to drip-dry naturally. Like a well-loved wok, the pot benefits from retaining a whisper of oil on its surface, so I avoided anything too abrasive.

You don’t need to scrub hard; the naturally non-stick finish means most food lifts away easily. Just be sure to avoid soaking it for long periods, as the clay can absorb water, and every so often you can rub a tiny amount of oil into the interior to keep it supple and seasoned.

How does the TOAST Small Longpi Karipot compare?

I stated this off apologising to my Le Creuset, so it's only fair that I elaborate a little more on my apology. When I switch between my Le Creuset Round Casserole Dish and the Longpi Karipot, it almost feels like moving between two different moods in the kitchen. My Le Creuset is undeniably the smarter of the two: faster to heat, sturdier in weight, and carrying that unmistakable prestige that makes you feel just a little smug when it’s sitting on the hob. It’s efficient, dependable, and wonderfully versatile.

The Karipot, by contrast, asks you to slow down. It doesn’t rush; it warms gently, cooks patiently, and rewards you with dishes that feel somehow deeper, softer, more soulful. Where Le Creuset gives you performance, the Karipot gives you presence. It has quirks, yes, but also an irresistible charm, the kind that makes you want to linger in the kitchen a little longer. In the end, I love them both, but the Karipot has a quiet charm that wins me over on the days when I want cooking to feel like a ritual instead of a race.

Should you buy the TOAST Small Longpi Karipot?

If you love cooking as a ritual and enjoy slow, soulful meals, then yes, the Longpi Karipot is absolutely worth buying. It’s not about speed or convenience, but character, charm, and the kind of cooking that asks you to slow down and savour the process. The pot’s handmade, wood-fired clay gives dishes a warmth and depth that feel almost nostalgic, and it rewards patience with beautifully tender, flavour-packed results.

If you need something smart, fast, and versatile, say a casserole dish ready on a moment’s notice, a classic cast iron casserole pot like Le Creuset will probably suit you better. But if you’re drawn to thoughtful cooking, rustic slow-living, and cookware that feels like more than just a tool, the Karipot brings something special, a little soul, a little ritual, and a lot of charm.