Half of us didn’t appreciate dadi or nani’s cooking until we were stuck in a city flat ordering overpriced quinoa bowls and reheating frozen parathas from the supermarket. We still don't realise that our grandmothers were the OG sustainability queens long before organic food, climate-smart diets, or Sustainable Gastronomy Day were talked about.

What Is Sustainable Gastronomy Day?

So when the UN says gastronomy is a “cultural expression related to the natural and cultural diversity of the world,” they’re really talking about your dadi's famous jackfruit curry and your naani’s millet rotis: recipes that fed families without leaving a giant carbon footprint behind.

Back in 2016, the United Nations officially declared June 18 as Sustainable Gastronomy Day. The idea was: let’s celebrate food that’s not just tasty, but also respectful to the planet. Think about where ingredients come from, how they're grown, how far they travel, and how much of it ends up wasted. It's not just about 5-star hotel meals or exotic ingredients. Put the focus on how we cook, what we cook, and why we shouldn't waste what nature gives us.

Even the objectives of Sustainable Gastronomy Day sound like something your grandma would nod at while rolling out rotis: raise awareness about food security, promote sustainable farming, conserve biodiversity, and respect traditional cooking.

Our grandmothers had already nailed this concept decades ago. Before “gastronomy” became a buzzword (it basically means the art or science of food, or local cuisine), Indian kitchens were mini universities of sustainability. Dadi didn’t Google “low-carbon diet.” She just looked at the backyard. If it was summer, mangoes were pickled. If the curry had bottle gourd, the peels were turned into chutney. The rice water (called kanji) wasn't thrown, rather it was used to starch clothes or cool your stomach on hot days. Even fish heads had a destiny: curry, soup, or chatni.

Grandma Was A Food Techie:

Even storage was an act of sustainability. No plastic cling wrap. Leftovers went into old Horlicks bottles and repurposed steel tins. Every house had that one suspicious-looking dabba filled with dry red chillies, hing, or pickles your uncle smuggled in from his last train journey.

One pumpkin gave you sabzi today, the seeds were dried and salted for tomorrow’s chai snack, and the peels? Turned into chutney. You know those banana peels we chuck into the bin without a second thought? In Kerala, your ammamma made thoran out of them. Your Gujarati ba ground up leftover rotis into masala ladoos or spicy Vaghareli Roti. Who doesn't remember the magic of rasam made from leftover dal water? There was no “food waste.” Everything had a second life, and often, a better one.

Seasonal Eating:

Summer meant aam panna and karela. Monsoons brought bhutta and pakoras. Winters? Sarson ka saag and gajar ka halwa. They didn’t need Instagram infographics to tell them to eat local and fresh. They just followed their instincts and their vegetable garden. We millennials think we invented multitasking. But grandma was making tomato chutney on one flame, boiling rice starch to starch your dad’s office shirt on the other, and soaking tamarind to clean brassware with.

So this Sustainable Gastronomy Day, skip the overpriced salad and go back to your roots. Dig up that handwritten recipe notebook (you know the one with haldi stains and oil fingerprints), call your mom, or better still, watch your grandmother cook. You’ll learn more about low-carbon eating, frugality, and full-hearted nourishment in one afternoon than a whole week of scrolling on food blogs.

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