There’s so much we’ve inherited from our grandmothers that passes off for kitchen wisdom. When examined closely, these nuggets go way beyond the kitchen; they stretch to the garden, the creatures we encounter in it, and to some extent, maybe even the world at large: like a guidebook for a simple and sustainable lifestyle. And yet, there’s a lack of knowledge all around, which makes us peer into volumes of long-forgotten books, or seek from modern-day masters, and chances are, neither of them has all the answers.
Let me give you some examples: ever gone to the market to buy bendekaayi (bhindi/lady’s fingers) and just picked up a handful to put in the brown bag? You’ve most likely snapped the tail ends of the bendekaayi to ensure tenderness and when you’ve cut the heads off, you’ve possibly pressed them in turmeric or vermilion and made pentagons on a piece of art paper — your first tryst with block printing.
If you have some whey leftover after churning butter from collected cream, you know it’s good for the curry leaf plant, to ward off bugs. Leftover buttermilk works just as well, but it’s also useful in making rava dose batter. Leftover rice was commonly known to us as ganji/ kanji, because it was soaked in water in a clay pot and left to rest overnight. It was seasoned with salt, pepper and other ingredients the following day, and consumed as a nourishing drink. Of course, sometimes, we simply feed it to our four-legged friends on the street. Today, it’s a known superfood, and anyone who follows a good diet (or an influencer online) will easily be able to wax eloquent about the health benefits of resistant starch. Another byproduct that our grandmothers used resourcefully is the water that’s left behind after cooking rice: it was used to starch cotton sarees, as well as to condition the hair — again, two big stars on the sustainable block as we know it today.
Leftover cooked dal goes into chapati/ roti dough, transforming the everyday staple into a treat, better known as missi roti. Stale bread can be turned around by steeping into pakora batter, along with onions, peppers and chillies, frying over low heat, metamorphosing into that perfect rainy day snack: bread pakora. Leftover palyas and sabzis get a facelift by filling into sandwiches or rolls, or soups. Peels from various vegetables and fruits work wonders when used in chutneys and side dishes — a classic one is watermelon rind, in sabzi and dosa form, which everyone and their cousin tried their hand at, during the pandemic. During the season, green peas and avarekai (hyacinth bean) were shelled, and the skins spread out on the street, for the cows to feed on. This was such a ceremonial act and it stands as a marker for winter days in many of our childhoods.
Turmeric latte won the West over a little too late in the day, and all our lives, we’ve known turmeric milk to help soothe an itchy throat and cure a still-blooming dry cough. In fact, the wonder spice is full of other uses outside the milk glass. Got a fire-hot wound or gash? Sprinkle some turmeric. Ant attack on the kitchen counter? Turmeric to the rescue. Bugs in the cauliflower? Boil water, add turmeric and salt to it, and immerse the cauliflower pieces in it for up to ten minutes. A sudden appearance of overnight acne? Treat with turmeric. Dandruff? Turmeric, again!
It is difficult to isolate instances of grandma’s way as standalone triumphs in our everyday lives. There are so many little flashes of prudence, of seeing things through to environmentally conscious ends, of making the most of little things, of measuring the lifespans of objects in their repurposed avatars. Used tea leaves and coffee grounds acting as plant nutrients, skins of elaichi tossed into the tea canister for added flavour, tamarind seeds moonlighting as coins or pawns on board games, citrus peels dried and powdered to use in glow-giving ubtans, potato peels used to absorb excess salt in side dishes, coconut fibre adding a layer of protection to
flowering plant pots, the list is endless.
With a little bit of effort and mindfulness, it’s possible to channel these insights into our present-day lives for a sustainable future.
It’s not all about hugging trees and giving up on certain types of food to fix a global contingency.
Focusing on our immediate realities, our personal health charts, and micro environments is a more judicious way to solve problems. If there’s an ingredient or food that’s on its last leg, chances are there’s a hack handed down by your grandmother to give it a fitting rest or to allow its magic to spread to other things. A hard, discoloured lemon is great in an uplifting face and hair mask, and its rind will perk up a rose bush. Overripe bananas and onion peels work similarly, too.
What’s good for you and the planet is not always on a speciality store shelf, but right in your pantry, according to grandma’s way!
Reuse, repurpose
Here’s a recipe for hair oil and mask, all made with to-be-discarded kitchen stuff:
Heat 3 tablespoons of coconut oil on a low flame, add the peels of 2-3 onions, let it simmer gently until the onion peels turn brown and crisp.
Once cool enough to handle, strain it into a bowl and set aside. Discard the onion peels into a pot in your garden, it enriches the soil with minerals and acts as a natural fertiliser.
(You can use this oil to massage your scalp and wash it off, too, without mixing it into the hair mask).
The mask
Blend an overripe banana, the rind of one lemon (even if it’s slightly brown) along with a blob of aloe vera gel or fresh aloe vera pulp, to a smooth and glassy finish.
Mix the prepared oil with the paste, and whisk it well with a spoon or fork.
Apply the hair mask and let sit for 30 minutes. Wash off and use a little bit of shikakai powder if you’d like to get rid of the oiliness, then rinse thoroughly. Make sure you use room-temperature water.
Pat dry with a towel and you’ll notice your hair will be shiny and smooth once it dries out!
(Ranjini Rao is a communications professor, author, and podcaster, straddling multiple worlds in Bengaluru. She’s passionate about urban farming and sustainable living, and can mostly be found cooking and baking in her little kitchen where, surrounded by heirloom coffee kettles and mismatched tea cups, she finds her chi.)