Culture, Through Food

Culture is often spoken about in grand terms: identity, heritage, tradition. But at its core, culture is deeply human. It is shaped by people and their everyday actions, social behaviours, customs and establishments. Something intrinsic to culture is that it is ever changing. Culture changes because people change through movement, conflict, trade, survival, and adaptation.

One of the most interesting ways to understand culture is through food.

When you sit with someone and ask simple questions, Why do you eat this? How did this ingredient come into your kitchen? Who taught you this recipe?, you begin to understand their world. These questions take you beyond the plate and into stories of migration, displacement, assimilation, and resilience. Food opens up stories of crops that travelled across continents, of people who carried seeds with them when they were forced to leave home, and of communities that adapted what they cooked based on what was available, allowed, or denied.

In listening to these stories, something becomes clear. People are far more connected than we often realise.

So much of what we think of as uniquely “ours” is shared, reshaped by time, place, and circumstance. At the heart of food cultures everywhere lies the same impulse: to nourish, to survive, to care, to belong. It is this shared humanity that Conversations on Food seeks to explore by learning about people through their food, finding common ground in difference, and allowing appreciation to replace hierarchy.

Take the tomato, for instance, now so central to Indian cooking that it feels indispensable. From curries to rasam to chutneys, it sits comfortably in our kitchens. And yet, the tomato is not native to India. Originating in South America, it was said to be cultivated by the Aztecs and Incas long before it reached Europe in the 16th century. Portuguese traders later brought it to India, where it adapted easily to the climate and was absorbed into everyday cooking. What was once foreign is now familiar. What travelled oceans has become deeply local.

Or consider the Saurashtrian community in Madurai. Centuries ago, weavers from the Saurashtra region of western India migrated south under the patronage of the Nayak rulers. Over generations, they settled, stayed, and became part of the city’s fabric. Their food tells this story of movement and belonging: roti halwa, keerai vadai made with mullu murungai, ambat bhath, and the likes of karupatti appam. These dishes hold memory, but they also reflect adaptation. They are not frozen in time. They are living expressions of how cultures blend and evolve when people share space.

Then there are food stories shaped by oppression and exclusion. India’s Dalit communities, subjected to centuries of systemic discrimination, were denied access not just to land and opportunity, but also to food. What they cooked was often dictated by what others discarded. Dishes like Lakuti, made from animal blood, speak of survival and resourcefulness. Among communities such as the Mang community of Maharashtra, leftover blood was seasoned simply and cooked, transforming what was rejected into nourishment. These food practices carry the weight of inequality, but also the quiet strength of making do and of sustaining life in the face of denial.

When we look closely at food, we begin to understand that culture is ultimately a study of people: their choices, constraints, creativity, and resilience. Food allows us to trace histories that are often absent from official records. It helps us see how people adapt, how they carry memory, and how they build meaning even in the most difficult circumstances.

At Conversations on Food, the intention is not to catalogue cuisines, but to listen. To sit with stories. To recognise that food is not just about difference, but about connection. When we understand food cultures in this way, we see that we are not as different as we think. Across regions, religions, castes, and borders, the human need to eat, share, remember, and care remains the same.

Food, in all its complexity, reminds us of this simple truth. Culture is human. And through food, we come to know each other better.