Inside India’s “Untouchable” Kitchen: How Dalit Cooks Transformed Waste into Heritage Cuisine
From Honeycomb Curry to Blood Fry: India’s “Untouchable” Cooking Reconsidered
Across India, Dalit and other marginalised communities have long turned discarded animal parts and wild ingredients into ingenious dishes such as honeycomb curry and blood fry, creating a rich but often stigmatised culinary tradition now gaining new attention. Inspired by a feature in The Economist published December 18th 2025, this report looks at how a cuisine born from caste discrimination and poverty is being documented, debated and, in some cases, celebrated, even as many cooks still face prejudice and economic insecurity.
The Economist article, photographed by Deepti Asthana, opens with a scene in which foragers smoke a hive of wild kagadi bees, collect the honeycomb and transform the larvae‑filled comb into a sweet, spicy curry. Similar recipes, once confined to village kitchens and community feasts, are now appearing in YouTube videos, cookbooks, academic research and pop‑up menus from Mumbai to Chennai.
Background: A Cuisine Shaped by Caste and Scarcity
Food historians and sociologists say so‑called “untouchable” cooking is inseparable from India’s caste system, which has for centuries restricted what people can eat, cook and sell. Dalits—historically labelled “untouchables”—and some Adivasi (indigenous) groups were often barred from owning land or eating from the same vessels as dominant castes, pushing them to rely on foraged plants, wild animals and animal parts that others rejected.
“What elites deemed impure or leftovers, oppressed communities transformed into nutrition,” said Delhi‑based sociologist Suraj Yengde in an earlier interview with Scroll.in. “This is a story of structural violence, but also of creativity and resilience.”
Scholars note parallels with soul food in the United States or offal‑based peasant cuisines in Europe, where enslaved or impoverished groups made meals from organs, bones and blood. In India, such dishes have remained deeply entangled with notions of ritual purity and caste rank, particularly in regions where vegetarianism is linked to social status.
Inside the Kitchen: Honeycomb Curry and Blood Fry
The Economist’s December 2025 feature, “From honeycomb curry to blood fry: India’s ‘untouchable’ cooking”, describes cooks in western India smoking out a hive of wild kagadi bees, then collecting the honeycomb heavy with eggs and larvae. The comb is chopped, spiced with chilli and turmeric, and simmered into a curry with a “sweet and spicy kick”, according to the magazine’s reporter.
Similar recipes appear in various regions under different names, combining protein‑rich insects or larvae with onions, garlic and local masalas. Nutritional researchers say such dishes can be dense in protein and micronutrients, though they are rarely included in mainstream dietary surveys.
Another hallmark of this cooking, highlighted in The Economist article and in interviews with Dalit home cooks published by The Wire, is the use of animal blood—often that of goats or pigs—to make stir‑fried dishes or thick gravies sometimes known colloquially as “blood fry”. The preparation typically involves whisking fresh blood with spices, then cooking it quickly in hot fat until it solidifies into dark, crumbly morsels.
While versions of blood‑based dishes exist in several culinary traditions worldwide, from Europe to East Asia, in India their association with meat and with Dalit and Adivasi communities has amplified social stigma. For many urban diners, the idea of eating blood remains taboo, yet food writers say curiosity is growing.
Historical Roots: “Waste” as Resource
Historical records from colonial administrators, missionary archives and regional gazetteers, cited by researchers at the Tata Institute of Social Sciences, describe Dalit communities consuming a wide variety of animals and cuts, including offal, trotters, intestines and skin, often purchased cheaply after market hours or claimed from carcasses.
Food historian Pushpesh Pant has noted in interviews that this practice was not simply a matter of taste but of survival. Denied access to fertile land and well‑paid work, many families relied on what others left behind. Over time, those constraints produced highly localised repertoires: soups made from goat hooves, dried fish chutneys pounded with chillies, or slow‑cooked stews of tripe and spices.
Foraging also played a critical role. Adivasi groups and landless labourers gathered wild greens, tubers, mushrooms and insects from forests and field margins. In some honey‑gathering communities, bee‑related foods—including honeycomb, larvae and even partially formed pupae—became seasonal delicacies prepared during festivals or after collective hunts.
The Economist’s portrayal of wild kagadi honeycomb curry fits into this broader historical pattern: a food system in which knowledge of local ecologies and resourcefulness under constraint shaped what was cooked and how.
Caste, Purity and the Politics of Taste
The label “untouchable cooking” reflects not only the caste status of many practitioners but also the perceived impurity of the ingredients involved. Orthodox Hindu dietary codes have long ranked foods along an imagined spectrum of purity and pollution, with beef, pork, offal and blood typically placed at the bottom.
Sociologist B. R. Ambedkar, writing in the mid‑20th century, argued that prohibitions on meat and on commensality—the act of eating together—were key mechanisms for maintaining caste separation. Contemporary scholars, including those cited by The Economist, say the persistence of such norms continues to mark certain foods and cooks as inferior.
In practice, this can mean that Dalit‑run eateries might be shunned by some higher‑caste customers, irrespective of sanitation or taste, and that dishes involving blood, intestines or insects are coded as “dirty” even when cooked carefully. At the same time, class plays a role: wealthier, educated consumers may reject these foods as symbols of poverty rather than ritual pollution.
“People mock our food as backward,” a Dalit home cook from Tamil Nadu told an Indian researcher in an oral‑history project archived by the University of Hyderabad. “But when there is no money, it is this food that keeps us strong.”
Critics of the term “untouchable cooking” say it risks reinforcing stereotypes. Some Dalit activists quoted in Indian media have urged journalists to instead use phrases such as “Dalit cuisine”, “Adivasi food traditions” or “marginalised community cooking” to acknowledge agency rather than stigma.
Nutrition, Sustainability and Food Security
Nutritionists who study low‑income diets argue that many dishes associated with marginalised groups are nutrient‑dense, even if they fall outside mainstream preferences. Offal can be high in iron and B‑vitamins; blood provides protein and minerals; and edible insects, including larvae found in honeycomb, are recognised by the UN Food and Agriculture Organisation as efficient protein sources.
“These recipes are often more balanced than instant noodles or ultra‑processed snacks now common in rural markets,” said a public‑health researcher quoted in The Economist feature. However, data on actual consumption patterns are sparse, and some ingredients—such as blood or wild honeycomb—can pose food‑safety risks if handled without care.
Environmental perspectives are mixed. Supporters say that nose‑to‑tail eating and insect consumption reduce waste and make better use of limited resources. Others caution that rising demand for wild products, including honeycomb, could incentivise overharvesting or unsafe foraging practices unless local ecological knowledge and regulations are respected.
From Village Feasts to YouTube: Growing Visibility
Over the past decade, Dalit and Adivasi chefs, bloggers and activists have begun documenting and sharing recipes that were previously confined to home kitchens. YouTube channels run by marginalised creators feature videos of dishes such as goat head curry, pork intestine fry and various blood‑based preparations, often filmed in rural courtyards over wood fires.
The Economist article situates honeycomb curry and blood fry within this emerging landscape, where social media and urban pop‑up events bring “untouchable” cooking to new audiences. Some restaurants in cities such as Bengaluru and Hyderabad now host Dalit food festivals, occasionally including offal‑based dishes while leaving out more controversial items like blood to appeal to a broader clientele.
Cookbook authors and scholars are also contributing. Works like “The Dalit Kitchen”, a project profiled by Indian news outlets, compile oral histories and recipes, while academic conferences on food and caste examine how power, labour and taste intersect on the plate.
Supporters argue that this visibility can challenge stereotypes and create economic opportunities for marginalised cooks. Yet some worry about selective appropriation—where elite chefs adapt elements of Dalit or Adivasi cuisine for upscale menus without crediting or materially benefiting the communities from which these dishes originated.
Controversies: Representation, Sensationalism and Ethics
The Economist’s framing of honeycomb curry and blood fry as “the hidden joys of a cuisine shaped by cruelty” has sparked debate among readers and commentators. Some praised the article for drawing global attention to caste‑linked inequalities and to a neglected culinary tradition. Others questioned whether the focus on “shocking” ingredients risks exoticising poverty.
Food‑studies scholars note that media coverage of marginalised cuisines often oscillates between romanticising resilience and highlighting hardship. “There is a thin line between respectful documentation and voyeurism,” one researcher wrote in a commentary for an Indian opinion site, responding to similar coverage by international outlets. “The key is whether community voices are central, and whether structural causes of deprivation are clearly named.”
Ethical questions also arise around animal welfare and environmental impact. Animal‑rights groups in India have objected to practices such as blood collection at informal slaughter sites, calling for better regulation. Conservationists, meanwhile, warn that unsustainable harvesting of wild honey or insects could damage local ecosystems if driven by commercial rather than subsistence needs.
Advocates for Dalit and Adivasi rights stress that any discussion of “untouchable” cooking should foreground ongoing discrimination in housing, education and employment. They argue that fascination with unusual dishes must not overshadow demands for equal rights and dignified livelihoods.
Perspectives from Cooks, Activists and Diners
- Community cooks interviewed in Indian regional media describe pride in their recipes but also ambivalence about public attention. Some say they want their children to have more choices and not feel compelled to eat “whatever is left” as previous generations did.
- Dalit activists often welcome recognition of their foodways as part of India’s heritage while insisting that conversations address land rights and labour exploitation. For them, honeycomb curry and blood fry are not merely curiosities but symbols of unequal access to resources.
- Chefs and restaurateurs are divided. Some see an opportunity to diversify menus and challenge dominant narratives of Indian cuisine as predominantly vegetarian or limited to certain regional staples. Others caution that serving blood‑based or insect dishes could alienate customers or provoke regulatory scrutiny.
- Urban diners, especially younger consumers, show a mix of enthusiasm and hesitation. Social‑media posts from food festivals suggest curiosity about trying “off‑beat” dishes, while comment threads reveal ongoing discomfort with ingredients viewed as extreme.
The Economist piece captures some of these tensions by juxtaposing visceral descriptions of cooking techniques with observations on caste discrimination and economic hardship. Readers’ responses, reflected on social platforms and in letters to the editor, range from admiration for the cooks’ ingenuity to questions about whether such stories risk reinforcing stereotypes about India in foreign media.
Policy, Public Health and Cultural Preservation
Policy makers rarely address dishes like honeycomb curry or blood fry directly, but several overlapping areas of governance affect their future: food‑safety regulation, forest and wildlife laws, and programmes aimed at improving nutrition among marginalised groups.
Public‑health officials typically focus on reducing anaemia and malnutrition through fortified foods and supplements. Some nutritionists argue that recognising traditional high‑iron dishes, including certain offal or blood recipes, could complement these efforts, provided safe handling and cooking practices are ensured.
Cultural bodies and museums have begun to show interest in documenting Dalit and Adivasi foodways, sometimes partnering with community groups. These initiatives raise questions about intellectual property, benefit‑sharing and who ultimately controls the narrative of “heritage” foods.
As media coverage expands, including from outlets such as The Economist, activists urge that collaboration with local organisations and cooks remain central, to avoid extracting stories without supporting long‑term community goals.
Conclusion: Beyond Curiosity, Towards Context
Honeycomb curry, blood fry and similar dishes exist at the intersection of caste, poverty, ecological knowledge and culinary skill. The Economist’s 2025 feature has brought new attention to these foods, prompting discussion among readers, scholars and activists about how they are represented and what their future might hold.
As India’s food culture globalises and diversifies, the fate of “untouchable” cooking will likely depend on more than market demand or media fascination. Ongoing debates suggest that any serious engagement with these recipes must also confront the histories of exclusion that shaped them, the nutritional and environmental questions they raise and the aspirations of the communities that continue to cook them.
