Dalit History Month 2025 | “The food that satisfied my hunger during difficult times was my favourite food,” says Shahu Patole, author of "Dalit Kitchens of Marathwada," when asked about what he loves eating. The book, hailed as the first ever to document Dalit food history, was originally published in Marathi as "Anna He Apoorna Brahma" in 2015, nine years before it was translated in English by Bhushan Khorgaonkar.
A part anthology and part cookbook, the book is a rich repository of the culinary traditions of the Mahar and Mang communities of Maharashtra. It has recipes for pickles, spice blends, breads, and dishes prepared using offals. A few recipes have about five ingredients listed, and several have not more than two. In such recipes, one of the two ingredients is just salt.
It is through these recipes that Patole challenges the age-old constructs that have governed the Hindu culinary canon. When asked what led him to compile these widespread, but ignored, recipes into a book, Patole says, “None of us had written about our original food culture, so I felt the need to write about it—even though it is not my field. Apart from the tamsik category of food, there are no references to our food culture in religious texts or literature. My book is based on the memories that my generation has of our food culture.”
Food in India has been used as a tool for social exclusion and control. Non-vegetarianism is almost instantly looked down upon, with certain meats being relegated as impure. Through recipes passed down from generations, Patole not only challenges the binary—of pure and impure, rajasic and tamasic—ruling over the food system but also the notion that “one becomes what one eats.” In Patole’s telling, food becomes a means of resistance and a rewriting of a narrative that has prevailed and preserved an unequal social structure.
“While there are mentions of non-vegetarianism in Dalit literature, there are no detailed descriptions of our food culture—especially non-vegetarian aspects. If our writers had provided those details, I wouldn’t have needed to write it. However, some individuals believe that this book is a valuable resource for future generations.”
Talking about his own memories, Patole says “Even today, my preferences haven’t changed much from what I used to eat growing up. I still enjoy vegetables prepared in the traditional way and often cook them that way. When I visit my village, my mother prepares spring onions, lentils and eggplant, pithla, green chilli-garlic paste, and seasonal vegetables. And when it comes to non-vegetarian food, I really enjoy beef or buffalo meat, especially when prepared in the traditional way.”
A staple in Patole’s kitchen is yesoor, a black chutney prepared by grinding whole spices, chana dal, bajra and rice. It is unique to the region and packs so much flavour that it can be had on its own. “We make it at home and use it in vegetarian and non-vegetarian dishes. When you have yesoor, you don’t need any other spices. And if there are no vegetables, just bread and yesoor is enough,” he shares.
While Patole admits that food habits change, governing or policing what people eat is a violation of fundamental rights. He says, “In any culture—including food culture—change is inevitable over time. In the past, control over food was exerted through religious means. Today, that control comes from religion and the government, and this is dangerous.”
As food cultures shift in a globalised world, Patole believes that “Changes should not be imposed under religious, social, or legal pressure,” he says. “But if they happen naturally, they should be welcomed.”