The Story of Our Food

by K.T. Achaya

This book outlines the variety of cuisines, food materials and dishes that collectively form “Indian Food”. It draws upon a range of sources—literature, archeology, epigraphic records, anthropology, philology, botanical and genetical studies—to trace the history of Indian food: classification, customs, rituals and beliefs, including the etymology of food terms. It shows how our wonderful Indian cuisine, with all its regional variants, is the outcome of food plants brought into India from numerous directions over thousands of years. And of a social ethic in which cleanliness was indeed next to godliness.

Genres: Food, Nonfiction, History, India, Cookbooks, Food History, Cultural

104 pages, Paperback

First published November 15, 2003

Reviews

[Petra X · Rating 4 out of 5]

A history of indigenous foods in India together with imported ones and where they were originally from and how they are used. I was surprised to read of bacon. I have never associated that with India, but apparently it was a delicacy when 'marinated in curds and spices'. I've never seen bacon or pork on the menu in a curry house.

Quite a few of fruits that I always associated with India are Caribbean or American in origin. Avocados, mangos, sugar apples, pineapples, passion fruit and papaya among others are all native to the Caribbean and probably South America. I guess there must have been trade routes between them, but I've never heard of them.

A big surprise is chillis. There were no vindaloos until chillis reached India about 500 years ago. I wonder what they used to make their food spicy hot, since you wouldn't really go for unspiced food like the French to super-super Saturday-night-drunk-and-hungry vindaloo (or madras)?

Interesting book. I enjoyed reading it.

[Prof Vinod Huria · Rating 5 out of 5]

Prof Vinod K Huria
Senior Principal Scientist (superannuated)
Central Food Technological Research Institute, Mysore
Karnataka, India


Food nourishes, sustains life, is cherished and fulfils the primary functions of taste and nutrition. This is a well-known fact but Dr K T Achaya, the author of The Story of Our Food, reveals from authoritative sources, that food also has spiritual qualities and the purpose of food is to merge the spiritual aspirations of the person eating the food with the higher purpose of living. The Aryans considered food as part of the large, moral, cosmic cycle in which the spiritual part of human nature had to be sustained as much as the bodily functions. Thammu Achaya adopted such a broad perspective in articulating this brilliant little book. The opening paragraph in the preface provides in a nutshell the versatility of the theme and what to expect from the book. It reads, ‘Behind any of the foods that we eat everyday, lies history and geography, botany and genetics, processing technology and high romance’.

Such was the remarkable depth of knowledge of Dr K T Achaya, who interestingly, was not a historian by qualification, yet the ease with which he narrated history in the context of progression of scientific thought, speaks of his genius. He started his career as a scientist, became a technologist, developed interest in food and nutrition, and as his quest for knowledge grew to arrive at the totality of the picture, he found the attraction towards history difficult to brush aside.

Thammu Achaya’s knowledge of ancient food and practices emanates from three sources; tools used by the ancients, paintings on cave walls and languages. He states that man emerged in his modern shape and form, called Homo sapiens, about 2 million years ago. The remains of tools disclose that the large apes from whom man descended were vegetarians, but soon became animal hunters. As man progressed, meat eating was combined with the use of agricultural crops. What early Indians ate can also be inferred from the paintings that are found on the caves that exist at Bimbetka in Madhya Pradesh. These caves were occupied from about half a million years ago to just about 2500 years back. Another source of information on food is words from various languages. The most ancient language spoken in India was the Munda language. The people of the Indus Valley Civilization, which flourished in the northwestern part of India from 2500 BC to 1500 BC, developed their own language, but it is still not successfully deciphered. About 2000 BC came the Aryans, who brought Sanskrit, which is the oldest known language of India. Dr Achaya divulges, in his book, how words taken from these ancient languages gave evidence of the existence of foods, such as, turmeric (haridra), lime (nimbaka), betel leaf (thambula), arecanut (guvaka), tamarind (chinchapala), ginger (injivera), etc. Thammu also explains how words coined for specific purposes became common nouns, for example, gingelly or sesame (til) from which is extracted oil (taila).

The impact of different civilizations, such as the Aryans and Muslims, on our food, and the resulting culinary habits, is also presented in the book. Achaya states the ethos of food preparation and attention to cleanliness and purity are an Aryan inheritance of three millenniums. The Sanskrit language that the Aryans founded was not written down till very much later. The Aryan way of life left a profound impact and gradually became the pattern for almost every part of this vast country. The Aryans looked with wonder on all creations of nature and developed deep philosophies of the place and purpose of man in this world. The book is replete with quotes on food and culture from the Yajurveda, Upanishads and Ramayana that lend authority to the narration.

As a fats and oils scientist, Dr Achaya authoritatively explained that apart from imparting flavour, ghee gives structure to certain sweets like Mysore pak, which vegetable oils cannot. As a food scientist, Dr Achaya enlightens that the process of parching and puffing of grains like rice, wheat and barley, as practiced during the Aryan age, breaks down the carbohydrates and proteins for easier digestibility. Sprouting of wheat, ragi, green gram and Bengal gram increases the content of vitamins B & C and the Iron constituents break down into simpler forms and become available to the body. Pickling conserves vitamins in vegetables, for use when fresh ones are not available. The use of green leafy vegetables, blending of foods such as cereals and pulses (khichadi), fermentation (dosa, idli, dhokla) are some of the food practices that have been passed on to us from the Aryan period.

The Aryans had a thorough knowledge of the nutritional and medical concepts. The concepts of balanced meals that were expounded in the Arthasastra of Kautilya (300 BC) and the Susrutha Samhita are similar to those recommended by the Indian Council of Medical Research (ICMR) in 1987. The association between food and well being is well articulated in the Charaka Samhita and the Susrutha Samhita, composed in the sixth/fifth centuries BC. The principles and practices of the Ayurveda system is concerned with the well being of the body, mind and spirit by bringing them into harmony. Diet is the most important way of doing this and Charaka with profound wisdom and wit states, ‘Without a proper diet, medicines are of no use; With a proper diet, medicines are unnecessary’.

During the last one thousand years, the Muslims gave new and richer dimensions to Indian cooking and their contribution is also discussed. Dr Achaya states that Akbar’s reign was beautifully chronicled by one of his courtiers, Abul Fazl. His famous book, the Ain-i-Akbari written in 1590, is a mine of information on many foods and rituals of the time. Apart from the meals cooked in the royal kitchen, the Ain-i-Akbari describes the passion of the Emperor for growing fruits and the fine varieties of mangoes that the Portuguese had developed by grafting techniques. Some 35 types of fruits were available in the Delhi market. Dr Achaya also mentions that the list of fruits included two surprising items, namely the pineapple and the custard apple. Both these fruits, native to South and Central America, were unknown in India before the coming of Vasco da Gama in 1498. Yet less than a century later, they were on sale in the Delhi market, a remarkable example of quick transfer and adoption of food plants.

The chapter on ‘Through Others Eyes’ discusses how the Greek, Chinese and Arab visitors appreciated the food and culture of India. The Chinese came to India as pilgrims to see the places of birth, teachings and death of Lord Buddha and not only traveled far and wide but spent a number of years studying at the ancient seats of learning. Their accounts of food are authentically narrated. Another chapter is devoted to the observations of European visitors to Kerala, Vijaynagar, Goa and Bengal. What fascinated them was the variety of food available in various parts of India, the spices that flavoured them, and their inexpensiveness.

The journey of our food has been a long and exciting one and Thammu Achaya has captured every nuance of this two-million years old saga. That is why to a connoisseur of food and its knowledge, this book will be a delightful treat. The book brings back the nostalgic moments of how food was partaken both at the royal abode and the habitat of the common man. Thammu Achaya has captured the heritage of the long-gone era, the exotic delights of the medieval period and the passion of the present age. And his romance with food does not end there. Where evidence is inconclusive, Thammu leaves the mysteries to be unraveled by the reader. The origin of sitaphal and bhutta (ear of corn) are two examples, and he concludes the book with a touch of humour, ‘While the historical puzzles remain, let us enjoy eating the sitaphal and tackling a roasted bhutta’.

The Story of Our Food is an admirable volume that can easily be classified as the most authoritative and convenient source for a compressed and sophisticated overview of the history of food. In eleven chapters, Dr Achaya has logically and cogently unfolded the saga of food, passed on from generation to generation, from the early ancestors, through the Harrappan and Aryan eras, to modern times. These are supplemented with three more chapters, which provide the bibliography, glossary of Indian and non-English words and the general index that facilitate easy access to information.

Dr Achaya’s narration is full of wit, wisdom and insight. His presentation style is lucid and his illuminating examples, cross-referencing and wide historical contexts lend credibility to his work. The bibliography lists two volumes published earlier by the author. These are Indian Food: A Historical Companion (1994) and A Historical Dictionary of Indian Food (1998), both published by the Oxford University Press. Obviously, Dr Achaya has drawn upon the research findings of his earlier volumes, which not only render this volume well researched and authentic, but also the outcome of many years of dedication. In fact, the publication of this book is a tribute to Dr Achaya for his lifetime achievement and his romance with food, for this is his last book that will ever appear. Dr K Thammu Achaya breathed his last on 5 September 2002 at his residence in Bangalore. He was to celebrate his seventy-ninth birthday exactly a month later.

The Story of Our Food is one of those books that create a lasting impact on the readers. It goes to the genius of Dr Achaya to handle the wide context of this book with such imagination. The book will be relished by scholars engaged in the study of food in its various dimensions. It will be appreciated by professionals who view food as a means of providing livelihood to millions of agriculturalists and food processors, and management experts who look upon food as the cause of existence of institutions and mega corporations. Above all, this book is meant for every home as, in a simple language, it narrates the story of from where our food came, how it evolved over the ages into the present form, and what does it have in store for us in terms of traditions and values. This little book, so reasonably priced, also answers many frequently asked questions about food and clears many misconceptions about the food we eat.

[Renuka Govind · Rating 4 out of 5]

K T Achaya successfully walks reader down the lane of uncovering history of Indian food. It is a fascinating read with simple language for everyone to understand. Certain historical inaccuracies aside, this book is a must read for every Indian food enthusiast.

[Tarun Mittal · Rating 3 out of 5]

Informative, Brief but Dull.

KT Achaya talks about the history of food:
- Evolution of the ingredients from the initial wild breeds to what we know of and eat today.
- The trade routes which facilitated food exchange and introduced crops from different regions of the world to new places without which we wouldn't have most of the Indian Cuisine we know of.
- How the food processing and cooking techniques changed over time.
- When a particular food/ingredient came into existence in a certain region.

The author conveys the above information while taking references from writings of early civilizations like Aryans, Harrapans, and then the various emperors ruling in India and the numerous travelers who visited India at different in History.

One of the most shocking part to me was how prevalent meat was in Indian Cuisine compared to today.

Where the book falls short is keeping the reader engaged and providing deep information. It's good to skim through quickly, but some other book with more details about everything would do more justice.

[Tanmoy Mondal · Rating 5 out of 5]

Very nice book about history of different Indian foods. The book discusses what might harappan people ate 4000 years ago. Also it contains a nice basic description about domestication of different grains and plants.

[Preetam Chatterjee · Rating 5 out of 5]

#Binge Reviewing my previous Reads #Indian Food

K.T. Achaya’s The Story of Our Food is one of those books that doesn’t just ask you to think about what you eat but forces you to reckon with the centuries of cultivation, conquest, trade, ritual, and survival that have gone into shaping even the simplest meal.

Reading it feels less like going through a cookbook or a nostalgic food memoir and more like sitting in a dense history seminar, except the history is edible, and the lecturer is intent on showing you how every grain of rice, every drop of ghee, and every pulse or spice in the Indian thali carries within it an entire story of civilisation.

Achaya was a scientist, food technologist, and historian, and this tri-fold identity shows in the way the book is written: there is rigour, there is breadth, and there is also a strange affection for the material, as though the author could not separate himself from the subject because food is not an academic curiosity but a lived fact. For me, reading this text after lighter narrative food histories like Chitrita Banerji’s or even Colleen Taylor Sen’s was like suddenly having to change pace—gone is the lyricism, the anecdotal digression, and instead arrives the insistence on evidence, cross-referencing ancient texts, inscriptions, travelogues, and agricultural records. It is a demanding book, but rewarding, because once you’ve gone through Achaya’s pages, you can never look at your own plate in the same way again.

What stands out immediately is Achaya’s longue durée approach: he begins from the very origins, from the Harappan civilisation’s food habits, moving through Vedic rituals, Mughal kitchens, colonial agriculture, and modern nutritional science. The sweep is breathtaking. Most food books restrict themselves to a particular era or geography; Achaya insists on everything, a full narrative from prehistoric times to post-independence India.

In the process, he creates a mosaic where the continuity of certain foods is as striking as the ruptures. Rice, for example, as the axis of sustenance in the east and south, stretches across millennia, while wheat gradually asserts itself in the north, and millets, so central once, are marginalised in modern diets. Achaya does not merely note these shifts—he probes them, looking at irrigation, soil, climate, social hierarchy, and even political economy. To him, food is not just taste but survival and governance, the very foundation of a society.

One of the most illuminating parts of the book is how Achaya reads ancient texts as food archives. The Rig Veda is mined not for cosmology but for references to offerings and feasts; Buddhist and Jain texts are scanned for dietary rules and prohibitions; Sangam literature is invoked for its descriptions of landscapes tied to particular food practices.

The Arthashastra is treated almost as a proto-agricultural manual, and foreign travellers like Al-Biruni or Ibn Battuta are used to triangulate what was eaten, how it was cooked, and how it was valued. In this way, Achaya transforms literary and historical sources into culinary evidence. It is almost forensic in method, and it reveals to the reader how deeply embedded food is in the very texture of cultural production. For me, the joy of reading these sections was in seeing how seamlessly he connects the dots – how the description of a sacrificial ritual links with the archaeological evidence of grain storage and how the mention of butter in a poem resonates with the technological possibilities of churning in that period. It is scholarship, but alive.

Achaya is also unsentimental. Unlike memoir-driven food writers who often glorify the sensual pleasure of eating, he is willing to point to scarcity, hunger, inequality, and the politics of distribution. He reminds us that India has always lived with paradoxes: opulent banquets for kings alongside widespread famine for peasants, intricate temple offerings contrasted with the everyday monotony of porridge for the poor. He charts how caste hierarchies structured diets, how certain groups were excluded from milk or ghee, and how ritual purity determined what could be eaten by whom.

This is not the romantic India of spices and colour but a stratified, unequal food culture, and Achaya does not let us forget it. Yet, he also shows resilience: how communities created variety even in scarcity, how pulses, pickles, and fermentation expanded nutrition and taste, and how local wisdom ensured sustenance. Reading this, I felt the weight of history behind the most ordinary dal I eat daily—it is not just a dish; it is a survival technology honed over centuries.

Another striking aspect is his focus on technology and trade. Achaya constantly asks: how did people grow, store, preserve, and transport food? From the introduction of irrigation systems in ancient India to the spice trade routes that connected Kerala to Venice, from the arrival of the chilli from the New World to the role of railways in moving wheat during colonial times—food is always technological and global.

He details the role of fermentation, of oil extraction, of the grinding stone, of the hand mill, and later the mechanised mill, each as an invention that shaped taste and availability. For someone like me, accustomed to reading food through cultural memory, this focus on science and economics was refreshing—it forced me to realise how much of what we consider “traditional” is actually mediated by innovations, imports, and shifts in infrastructure. Even the Indian kitchen, with its masala dabba and pressure cooker, is a site of technology as much as it is of ritual.

Reading The Story of Our Food In the current moment, when India’s food culture is being debated in terms of vegetarianism vs non-vegetarianism, globalisation vs local food, and purity vs hybridity, one sees how prescient Achaya was. He insists that Indian food has always been syncretic, always layered with influences from outside—Central Asian, Persian, Portuguese, and British—absorbed, modified, and indigenised.

The very category of “Indian food” is a palimpsest, not a singular origin. He also shows how modern nutrition science, with its obsession for proteins, vitamins, and calories, often clashes with traditional wisdom but sometimes also validates it. Achaya’s scientific background makes him comfortable moving between Ayurveda and modern biochemistry, and though at times his narrative is dry, it gains authority precisely because he refuses to romanticise. For him, the story of our food is not just about taste but about nourishment, balance, and sustainability.

Personally, reading Achaya was a humbling experience. I went into the book expecting perhaps a cultural history sprinkled with anecdotes. What I got instead was an encyclopaedic yet coherent narrative that forced me to think of food as history itself. Each time I eat rice now, I cannot help but recall his analysis of paddy cultivation and its ties to irrigation tanks and monsoon cycles. Each time I encounter the word “curry”, I remember his insistence that the category is colonial shorthand, far removed from the specific regional names like sambar, korma, or dalna. Each time I see packaged foods in a supermarket, I think of his chapters on processing and preservation, and how the act of eating is always tied to commerce. Achaya’s gift is that he alters your everyday perception, so that food is never innocent again—it is always historical.

If there is a limitation, it is perhaps the dryness of tone at times, the density of facts, or the sense that Achaya is more comfortable with data than with narrative colour. Compared to Banerji’s lyricism or Sen’s brisk journalistic style, Achaya can feel austere, closer to a textbook. Yet this austerity is also a kind of integrity; he does not dress food up, he gives you its bones, and in those bones lie the truth of a civilisation. For readers like me, who crave immersion and are willing to wade through the density, the reward is immense.

Ultimately, The Story of Our Food is exactly that: a story, but told with the precision of a scientist and the sweep of a historian. It makes you realise that food is never just about appetite but about ancestry, never just about cooking but about cultivation, distribution, and memory. In Achaya’s pages, the Indian kitchen becomes not just a place of recipes but a map of civilisation itself.

[Mario · Rating 3 out of 5]

Facts, Facts, Facts and some more interesting facts...

Most of the Indian culture that we practise today are mainly of "Aryan" style.
* The so-called Aryans are south Russians. So do the Europeans.
* Agriculture was the chief occupation of the Aryans. They enjoyed the pastoral way of life.
* Sanskrit was brought to India by the Aryans. This is the oldest language in Northern India.
* Aryans just loved Ghee for cooking or frying.
* Overnight left "Rice-water" was their favourite morning drink.

-----
* Tamil is the oldest language in southern India.
* The word "Curry" is derived from Tamil word KaRi (think kaai-kaRi).
* Chicken, Sugar, Mango, and Sesame seeds originated in India
* Ragi, Cholam, and Kambu originated from Uganda, East Africa.
* Toor dhal (Thuvaram paruppu) originated in south India.
* Coconut originated 15 million years ago near Papua New Guinea.
* Coconut oil is the FIRST oil used for cooking in South India.

-----
* Chillies, and Cashew Nuts came from Mexico.
* Sunflower is from Bulgarian and Russian regions.
* Guava, Papaya, and Pineapple came from South America.
* Tomato, Potato, and Groundnut are from Andes region (Machu Picchu), South America.
* Lotus plants purify the water. Thus making it potable.

Overall, it was a quite interesting read about the foods that we Indians eat today, and how those come into existence and widespread use.

[Marcy · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book is merely a taste of what could be done in a book about the history of Indian food. It left me wanting so much more. It was fascinating to see how various foods entered the subcontinent and became incorporated into the diet. Imagine: chilis only reached India just 300 years ago and today it's so central to most recipes. Achaya relies upon travelogues of people from the Arab world, China, and Europe to show how food was grown, cooked, and eaten across the country. It's a wonderful little read, but I do hope some does something similar with more depth soon.

[T.R. · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a little gem of a book on the history and geography of Indian food. It is simple and engaging, with fascinating nuggets of information, distilled from the author's research and more detailed works such as his Indian food: a historical companion. As he says in the opening sentence, "Behind any of the foods that we eat every day, lies history and geography, botany and genetics, processing technology and high romance."

[Arun Prasad Ramasubramanian · Rating 5 out of 5]

Loved reading about origins of various food, fruits and vegetables that we consume on a daily basis. Surprised by some of them not being Indian, which I always thought to be Indian. Also, realised that the food I have grown up eating/eating today is pretty much similar to what was eaten 3000 4000 years ago. Well written, to the point.

[Gourang Ambulkar · Rating 3 out of 5]

Good back pocket information to be gained from this book about some of the food items of India

[Harini Gopalswami Srinivasan · Rating 5 out of 5]

Lovely introduction to K T Achaya, the father of food writing in India. It's more of a sampling than a detailed read.

[Chaitalee Ghosalkar · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not very informative, more like pointers to the Indian food history. It did however remind me that I should be reading more about Indian civilizations at Harappa and Mohenjodaro

[Richard · Rating 2 out of 5]

Simplistic to the point of being condescending. A loose understanding of science. Very repetitive

[Dr. Hannah Mathew · Rating 4 out of 5]

Very informative - reads like a kids Do you Know knowledge book!

Thoroughly enjoyed it!

[Ashwini Mangalat]

A must-read for food history enthusiasts

I love this book very much. I suggest this book to every food enthusiast. A must-read. Thanks for Kindle subscription

[Thaths · Rating 3 out of 5]

The book was a little too short. But had some good insights as to how food evolved in India.