Dalit Kitchens of Marathwada

by Shahu Patole, Bhushan Korgaonkar (translator)

'This is the food my parents ate and their parents ate ... It is an acquired taste, especially one acquired through centuries of discrimination.'

A landmark publication in Marathi, Shahu Patole's book Anna He Apoorna Brahma was the first ever to document Dalit food history through the culinary practices of two Maharashtrian communities--Mahar and Mang. Fashioned as a memoir with recipes, it explores the politics of maintaining social divisions through food along with a commentary on caste-based discrimination--what food is sattvic (pure) or rajasic (fit for a king), what is tamasic (sinful) and why.

Now translated as Dalit Kitchens of Marathwada, this book presents the poor man's patchwork plate, one devoid of oil, ghee and milk, and comprising foods not known to savarna dictionaries. It also examines Hindu scriptures that prescribed what each varna should eat--and questions the idea that one becomes what one eats. From humble fare to festive feasts, the recipes carefully woven into the narrative show you the transformative power of food in connecting communities and preserving cultural identity.

Genres: Nonfiction, Food, India, Cooking, Cookbooks, Book Club, Indian Literature

384 pages, Kindle Edition

Published June 2, 2024

Reviews

[Jessica Zu · Rating 5 out of 5]

poor people’s diet are alike everywhere. as a kid i relished blood curd, pigs feet, intestines, skins, deep fried fat, … good old times before i turned veg

[Kavita · Rating 3 out of 5]

The title Dalit Kitchens of Marathwada speaks for itself about the content. The author delves into the food habits and food culture of the Mang and Mahar castes of Maharashtra, the latter to which B.R. Ambedkar belonged. He gives recipes for many of the feast and daily dishes as well as discuss the history of how cuisine developed in these specific castes. He also touches upon the depth of historical discrimination and cites some examples.

Mr Patole is not a great writer, but neither does he claim to be. The writing left a lot to be desired, but I also wonder if that is a translation issue and the original Marathi might be more involving. For example, he gives loads of recipes but very frequently, instead of describing the taste and texture of the foods, he merely ends with it tastes delicious when eaten with jowar bhakri. That's not a description? We know people find it delicious, and hence they eat it! Where the author does not seem to love the dish, it's it tastes fine when eaten with jowar bhakri. 🤷‍♀️

I also found some of the early pages to have some weird takes on food, which while I understand is an attempted hit at Brahmin vegetarian-pushing, does not make much sense. At one point, Patole tries to make a point that if vegetarian is superior, then why did the Europeans conquer so many countries. There is so much wrong with this ... but that said, this wears off pretty soon and the author soon gets into the meat of the content and goes into more depth about the caste system and why the food of certain castes are the way they are.

Some parts of the book were extremely informative. For example, it came as a surprise to me that some castes don't use asafoetida in their foods because it came from Afghanistan and was not easily available to poor people. The intersection of class and caste is very important in this context. It's also interesting because some Brahmin castes also traditionally did not eat things like onions, because it came from Afghanistan! Also, tadka, considered quintessentially Indian cuisine, was not something that people from scheduled castes did.

While the food habits were very interesting in many ways and I learned a lot about Indian food, it was often unfortunate circumstances, poverty, and massive discrimination that led to these cuisines being shaped. It was saddening because the discrimination still exists in one form or the other and the gap is nowhere being close to closed. Food should bring people together, not separate us.

[Kaivalya Karkare · Rating 4 out of 5]

An english translation of the 2015 Marathi original - Anna He Apoorna Brahma - I found 'Dalit Kitchens of Marathwada' a highly informative and engaging read.

Shahu Patole has written this book as a memoir, archive and socio-economic commentary on the culinary history (and its evolution) of the Mahars and Mangs of the Marathwada region of Maharashtra (generalisable also to other parts of the state to an extent).

He starts off with a commentary on the socio-economic past of the caste system in Maharashtra (I learnt about the alutedar and balutedar system), he speaks about how the culinary culture and practices of various castes in MH differed due to socio-economic reasons (such as differential access to imported ingredients, nature of work, cost of food items, and even the types of utensils used).

A major part of the book is an archiving of traditional Mahar and Mang recipes (both, non vegetarian and vegetarian), utensils used, nature of work done, festivals and religious rituals - all of which was very interesting and informative.

Towards the end of the book, Patole takes a deep dive into almost 40+ major Marathi gathas/religious texts to understand their stance on culinary history and caste (specifically the classification of food as saatvic, rajasic and tamasic). Most of these texts have orthodox views on this subject matter.

Finally, Patole looks at the 1972 famine of Marathwada and its strong impact on the creation of a more homogenised culinary paradigm due to economic and agricultural reasons.

Throughout this read I felt a lot was lost in translation and a reading of the Marathi original will definitely be a lot more immersive and wholesome.

[Shreela Sen · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a book I wanted to read with sincerity & seriousness, & I will review it in many dimensions
As a non-fiction
Research : There is immense effort which has gone into this book. This is evident from Chapter 11, which is basically a literature review.
Tone : There is definitely some bitterness in the entire concept & the act of publication of the book itself, "It is an acquired taste, esp. one acquired through centuries of discrimination". Patole does not hide this at all, but also, does not carry it as a chip on his shoulder either. The tone of the book is very even, neutral, logical, & pragmatic. It is neither rhetorical, nor academic.
I learnt a lot. About customs & processes, lifestyle & patterns, about how agricultural tasks were performed in the medieval times & how some of these are still the same & some are modified.
What I enjoyed most is that the author mentions & the translator translates a lot of idioms, guesses at some word roots, including abuse words. Always enjoy etymology.
As a social commentary
I approached the book with an open mind. The introductory chapters deal with the "holier than thou" doctrine of vegetarianism. It is undeniable that a large Hindi-speaking population indeed tries to foist (lacto-)vegetarianism on all people who identify themselves as any variety of Hindu, & it is indeed offending to those persons who are culturally & familially non-vegetarian. Chapters 2,3,5,6 also deal with how intricately caste is related to food habits via poverty & how food habits are an integral part of culture (through both daily living & festivities).
It becomes immensely clear the living conditions of the people that the author is representing, the Mang & Mahar castes of Maharashtra.
It's definitely a somewhat tough book to read. It's not the theory part of the oppression which is tough... not the telling, The showing. I will tell you one simple thing, there are about a hundred recipes mentioned, only one includes a dairy product, kadi made from buttermilk. That's the part which hits. Stuff happens, "IRL", to persons, to humans, people live in such dire conditions, forced (by socio-economico-POLITICAL conditions) to sustain on leftovers & throwaway of their employers (masters)... which are too painful to simply know. & they live that life. Generationally.
Certainly, there were a few small things I did not follow. One of these is, the author insists again & again in chapter 11 that he does not oppose the teachings of the saints that are mentioned. But why? Some of the excerpts are so shamelessly, shamefully casteist!
But the last paragraph of the book perhaps answers that. It's a melancholy acknowledgement that the author makes.
I also do not understand what the author wanted the general society to do with the "folk-tales" mentioned at the end of Chapter 6... every single one of them is about how an intercaste marriage led to the "rise" of an evil demigod ... they're heartbreaking & vomit-inducing. While I agree that these stories demonstrate a social truth & need to be remembered, what does the author mean by "if the upper castes had accepted the stories wholeheartedly" ... ???? ... in all probability, those were all invented & propagated by the upper castes to scare young men & women away from intercaste marriages !!!!
The concluding chapters briefly touch upon the rapid mechanization of agriculture, & its impact on these castes who were not farmers, but farm-adjacent. Also the incomplete emancipation from "lower" (lowest) caste status due to the social leveling in cities. Also the ridiculous status change of wealthy foods & later, healthy foods.
As a read
The book is easy to follow, tough book to read. The translation is very good, never stiff.
The format is interesting. The chapters are series of essays on different aspects of daily living, & chapters 4,7,8,9,&10 contain recipes.
I had to skip certain parts as they are too much for me, these are the parts dealing with butchering, & of body parts of animals.
I am personally someone from a generationally meat & fish eating family, who automatically stopped eating fish at age 7 & meat at age 13, I do not even remember my reasons. I eat eggs & dairy, as well as honey. I feel nauseatingly repelled by ivory, but have not yet given up pearls & silk. I have seriously mixed feelings about leather - it is a product which entails cruelty towards animals, yet, is a source of income to those who are trying with honest labour to escape the spirals of poverty. & I think laboratory experiments on animals area necessary evil, should be avoided where possible, but are not entirely avoidable.
I am a conflicted human being, trying to establish a balance, draw a line between empathy & self-preservation, I feel bad for the animals which are brutally killed & at the same time for the people who have no choice but to kill those animals for their own day-to-day survival.
So, okay, come at me with your battle-axes & your one-dimensional one-track thinking, I dare you.
Personally, I really enjoyed reading the parts about green vegetables, as I love growing plants, & don't have much of a sweet tooth.
As a recipe book
The author comes across as having a deep, genuine & involved knowledge of cooking & kitchen & foodstuff. This can only be acquired through being involved in the process, which (according to my salaried-class conditioning) is a customarily female domain. This arouses much respect for the author.
It seemed to me in some ways similar to "Masala Lab", which is also an unconventional take on food & cooking.
The book can be used as a recipe book in earnest.
Though I am not much of a cook, I do consider myself foodie ... & all those groundnut-based side-dishes, the chutneys, the millet-thickened savoury porridges really read very appetizing!
Lastly, I loved the cover. The cover is bright & happy, as the atmosphere in a kitchen, however impoverished, I hope & wish, always be.

[mentalexotica · Rating 2 out of 5]

Such a puzzling book. One which begins with great promise, and seems to point you in the direction of the history and current sociology of two untouchable tribes/castes. But instead deviates into something of a culinary journal. Pages upon pages of recipes of how to cook the various dishes that these tribes partake of, and some background into the preparation of other dishes and items. Being intrigued by caste politics, I was hoping for a meaty read of Dalit politics and history but this ended up being something altogether different.

[Jyotsna Jaya · Rating 4 out of 5]

A tale of class who were not privilege enough to decide what can be on their plate.The heart wrenching saga of marginalized community of the India. I took more time to read as the book was full of sorrows which is hard to imagine but it is a must read people to have a different perspective in life.

[Rosun Rajkumar · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5/5

Essential reading.

Why we eat what we eat. And how that can be tied to oppression.

The recipes felt repetitive but this is a solid entry point into understanding Dalit food and history.

[Siddharth · Rating 5 out of 5]

Exceptional book uncovering the history and present of food choices, social stigma and discrimination in two sects of the Dalit community of Maharashtra. This social commentary makes you reflect on the privilege that many may hold by virtue of the caste they are born into, how it manifests in the form of displeasure and judgement of the food others eat (mainly non vegetarian), and how these thoughts need revision through a fuller understanding of the complex social fabric and tapestry of caste based discrimination.

[Pranati A S]

https://www.deccanherald.com//feature...

[Sumallya Mukhopadhyay · Rating 5 out of 5]

Dalit Kitchens of Marathwada, Shahu Patole

“[O]n the basis of food taboos, Hindu society falls into three classes: i) Those who are vegetarians [Shakahari]; ii) Those who eat flesh but do not eat cow’s flesh [Mansahari]; iii) Those who eat flesh including cow’s flesh. Corresponding to this classification, we have in Hindu society three classes: 1) Brahmins; 2) Non-Brahmins; and 3) Untouchables.”
- Untouchability, the Dead Cow and the Brahmin, Ambedkar

The reason I begin the review of Dalit Kitchens of Marathwada with a reference to Ambedkar’s essay is that it strikes directly at the heart of Shahu Patole’s ideological framework of the book. Patole’s central argument is that though what one eats is a personal choice, food habits and caste are inseparable in Indian culture. He writes: “Just as caste is cemented at birth, so is diet” (p. xiii). By focusing on the Mahar and Mang – the two main Dalit castes in Maharashtra – he attempts to document the primary diet and recipes of these two communities, making us aware of the socio-religious hierarchy of our culture.

Dalit Kitchens of Marathwada is divided into twelve chapters. In the initial two chapters, he sets the backdrop of the book. He introduces the readers to the rigidity and intricacies of the caste system in Hinduism. While deliberating on the caste dynamics in the villages of Maharashtra, he defines the ‘alutedars’ (service providers or entertainers to the entire community) and ‘balutedars’ (priests, astrologers, temple-keepers, tax collectors, sanitation workers, barbers etc.) The demographic orientation placed the houses of Patil (village headman) and other landlord farmers at the centre of the village. Near the borders of the village were the houses of Chambars, Dhors, and other alutedar as well as balutedar castes. Outside the premises of the village lived the Mahar and the Mang families. “Chambar and Dhor were considered untouchable by the upper-caste village. Chambar and Dhor considered Mahars and Mangs untouchable and Mahars considered Mangs untouchable” (p. 16). Considerable literature deals with the everyday lives of Dalits, but Patole’s book acquaints us with their cuisine, which, as he argues, is a neglected domain so far. For long, the upper-caste held the view that Dalits eat their leftovers (jhootan); so, there could be nothing special about their food. Departing from such preconceived notions, Patole depicts how the Mahar and Mang families prepared food, detailing the recipes to the readers. Some of the items that these two communities prepare are: ‘rakti’ (blood), ‘lakuti’ (a dish made from blood), ‘jeebh’ (tongue), ‘fashi’ (epiglottis), ‘bheja’ (brain), ‘kaleji’ (liver), ‘gurda’ (kidneys), ‘dil’ (heart), ‘kopis’ (lungs), ‘gana’ (windpipe), ‘tona’ (bones), ‘bal and mand’ (fat), ‘choti-boti’ (scraps of membrane and tendons), ‘khiri’ (udder), ‘aand’ (testicles), ‘paaya’ (hooves), ‘kheema’ (minced meat), ‘undwar’ (mesentery), ‘wajadi’ (intestines), along with vegetarian dishes like ‘dal’ (pulses), ‘hulgyacha pithla’ (horse bean), ‘khalgut’ (peanut chutney), ‘kandavani’ (onion chutney), ‘usal’ (curries made using legumes), among others.

Upper-caste Hindus, who eat non-vegetarian food, will identify many of the items as they also eat them. What separates them from the lower-caste communities is that Dalits ate parts of the dead animal. Often, animals did not die naturally, and people suffered from diarrhoea and food poisoning. Patole also gives us a glimpse of some of the festivals organised in the villages. His chapter on ‘Kaaran’ – a ceremony to sacrifice a male buffalo – enlightens us of how during the rainy season, when Dalit communities had no job on the field used to look forward to this event to satiate their hunger. The reference to the festival is interspersed with the folklore that has gained currency over time. Underlying this plethora of images is a sharp critique of those who homogenously categorise Dalit cuisine as ‘tamasic’ (unholy food). Patole makes us attentive to how food has been employed as a tool for social exclusion and non-vegetarianism is looked down upon in Hinduism. By blending his lived experiences with the history of Dalit cuisine, Patole’s part cookbook, part memoir presents food as a form of resistance through which one can revisit established narratives based on prejudices and presumptions.

[Dr Biju · Rating 4 out of 5]

Book Review: Dalit Kitchens of Marathwada by Shahu Patole
Translated by Bhushan Korgaonkar

Shahu Patole’s Dalit Kitchens of Marathwada is not just a cookbook—it is a memoir, a cultural dossier, and a searing sociopolitical document. It delves into the lives, flavors, and memories of the Mahar and Maang communities of Maharashtra’s Marathwada region, offering readers a rare and textured view of how caste, hunger, resilience, and tradition shape culinary identity.

Drawing from his own lived experience as a Dalit man, Patole presents food not merely as nourishment but as a powerful expression of resistance and survival. Every chapter is steeped in memory—of poverty, of stigma, of resilience. The recipes themselves are deceptively simple but are often born out of historical deprivation: dishes crafted from discarded animal parts, roadside herbs, or “lowly” grains, now dignified on the page with reverence and pride.

That said, the book is not free from critique. Patole writes with a clear and sometimes unyielding bias in his view of the caste system—one that emerges as deeply oppositional, often painting social hierarchies in stark binaries. This is understandable, given the trauma and exclusion embedded in his background, but it may alienate readers seeking a more nuanced or academic lens. His anger is palpable and at times overtakes the narrative. But perhaps that is part of the book’s raw power—it refuses to sanitize or sweeten the story of caste and cuisine.

What makes Dalit Kitchens of Marathwada truly remarkable is how it elevates the everyday. The act of gathering ingredients, cooking over a wood-fired stove, or serving a dish with pride becomes an act of defiance and dignity. The food here is not exoticized or romanticized—it is real, functional, and fiercely rooted in a social history that has long been marginalized.

The translation by Bhushan Korgaonkar retains much of the original’s earthy flavor and regional specificity, although some of the Marathi cultural idioms lose their impact in English. Still, the spirit remains intact.

In conclusion, while Dalit Kitchens of Marathwada may challenge readers with its unapologetic tone, it stands as a culturally significant milestone in Indian food literature. It brings visibility to a culinary tradition that has long simmered at the margins, finally giving it the space and voice it so richly deserves. Whether you read it for its recipes, its stories, or its politics, this book will leave a lasting impression—an invitation to taste not just food, but history itself.

[Ashish Kumar · Rating 5 out of 5]

A heart-wrenching book, from the struggle to spark a fire to bringing and cooking food in the kitchen and today life has changed so much that now everything is being cooked on gas. There is so much to document, Dalit Kitchen in Marathwada is based on the kitchen of Mang and Mahar communities.

Beyond the long discussion about vegetarianism and non-vegetarianism, everything is based on caste in such a way that after reading many things I felt, "How can this happen?". What have the saints said, what is written in the mythology regarding food which is based on castes system.

The way emotions have been carried through the words, the way situations have been depicted, it is unprecedented. The recipes written in this book are not only about what they are made of but also because of the circumstances under which these things had to be eaten. I tried to comprehend the intent of every steps which push me to think about circumstances,scarcity and depth of the situation.

in modern era things are getting thawed, urbanisation has changing the situation. Representatives are taking their positions to create better social environment.

Read it

[Jasun Chelat · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is such a great book.

I feel like it is a bit late in my life to discover that non-fiction books require a great deal of skill to write: mostly its either too academic, or filled with personal stories (snooze) or just annoyed pontifications. It is rare to have a book like this that is full of memories, knowledge, observations, and humour, written with subtlety and keenness.

I read this slowly throughout some months and I would suggest you do that too if possible. There are many many recipes in here, and reading it all in one go might not be the best way to enjoy this book.

I wish this book had a malayalam translation because i would have then easily known the names of different dals, vegetables, parts of meat etc, and also because I feel like our regional languages translate much easier to each other than to English. The flow and rhythm and turns of phrase etc. but of course, even though every banerjee mukherjee chatterjee shikanji is translated the day after it is published, this book even after ten + years does not have a malayalam translation afaik.

10/10 getting some yesur and peanut crush.

[Anjali Anil · Rating 5 out of 5]

Dalit Kitchens of Marathwada by Shahu Patole was an eye-opening and enriching read that I thoroughly enjoyed. The book is written in a refreshingly simple language, making it easy to understand and deeply engaging. It seamlessly weaves together personal history, insightful social commentary, and a wealth of traditional recipes, bringing to life the stories and struggles of Dalit communities in Maharashtra. Through the lens of food, Patole reveals the profound discrimination faced by the Mahar and Mang communities, from the hierarchy imposed on foods to the patchwork meals crafted with limited resources.

I was captivated by how the recipes serve as a bridge between generations, preserving a resilient cultural identity and connecting readers to the spirit of these communities. The book explores the politics of what is deemed “pure” or “sinful” food, offering thought-provoking insights into caste discrimination. A landmark in Marathi literature, this book left me with a newfound appreciation for the power of food history.

[Nikhil Kamath · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book had been on my TBR for a while until I finally picked up a copy and started reading it earlier this month. Dalit Kitchens of Marathwada is more than just a book about recipes. It is a lesson in history, culture and human behaviour.

Focusing on the caste system in the Marathwada region, the author talks about how different castes have further sub-castes of their own, the politics behind it all and how all of this affects their lifestyle. The starts from the very beginning of how things started and how things have changed over the years.

Along with the recipes shared in the book, the significance behind each recipe is also shared. It is also highlighted that with the advent of commercialization, many items only prepared during auspicious occasions are now being served at restaurants on a daily basis without understanding the context and the cultural habits.

Being a food writer and having an interest for stories surrounding food and culture, this book is a great reference point to understand the food habits in the state of Maharashtra and Marathwada region.

[Leanne · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book is a stark reminder of remnants of our past that have percolated and found their way to our present. How the marginalised were left with no option but to make do with whatever resources were available and ironically how this was held against them although there was little they could alternatively do. How the narrative of what is or isn’t indigenous to a region and what its culinary masterpieces are is largely spun without a thought to these individuals who have silently been fulfilling their pre designated roles in society. Definitely worth a thought.

[Kanika · Rating 4 out of 5]

Food is central to society and its rituals. This was a fascinating insight into the traditional diets of Marathi dalit people which led to further exploration of their customs and rituals, as well as their history. This book is also, quite rightly, a form of activism by the author (so it is not a neutral, unbiased commentary on a cuisine, in case you’re looking for that).

[Sejal · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was unlike any other book I have read. This is also the first book that I have read on how food and food history can give us insights into how societies have been shaped. Thoroughly enjoyed reading not just the different recipes but how availability of food shaped Dalit societies in Marathawad.

[Vijay Ramesh · Rating 3 out of 5]

I very much enjoyed learning about the food that is eaten by Mangs and Mahars in Maharashtra and how that came to be.

Maybe it's the English translation that needs work, but I am sure the original Marathi version reflects the author's writing perfectly.

[Vipan Bavoria · Rating 3 out of 5]

An important book documenting the culinary history of people, who remain erased/absent from the dietary journals, recipe books, and cookery shows on Indian food.

[Darpreet Kaur · Rating 3 out of 5]

Dalit kitchen its all about and recipes comes through dalit kitchens ,culture how he preparing the food book talk about also social System.

[Neha · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5

[Neha A · Rating 4 out of 5]

The food history was interesting, but not entirely new to me as I have read a book dedicated to recipes from Dalit homes in the past. Here, I liked the description of the ingredients and the tidbits of general history concerning how village life was organised. I was especially fascinated reading how the Mahars were included in the balutedar or essential professions of the village, alluding to a much stronger and to a degree, more empowered integration of the Dalit community in village life than a simplistic account would have one believe. Reading Patole’s work made me consider if such simplistic narratives of total marginalization are nefarious constructions intended to bolster present-day marginalization by pointing to the past for precedent. Patole’s work places the Dalit community within the village life and describes their joys just as he describes their travails and mal-treatment at the hands of the brahmanical caste order.