It’s no secret that Bengali food is cooked with
elaborate precision. But did you know that we also rescue a variety of
leftovers from the margins of the chopping board and give them a second life?
Spinach ends. Vegetable peel. Flowers. Everything is accorded a place on the dining table. And I know no greater
defender of these second-class citizens (sometimes third-class citizens) of the
animal and plant kingdom than my own mother.
Here, then, are some
interesting dishes she manages to cook almost
entirely out of a hodgepodge of culinary leftovers.
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Leaves, stems and flowers: Taro leaves, pumpkin
leaves, radish leaves, ash gourd leaves, bottle
gourd leaves, tender shoots of the marigold plant… under my mother’s
enterprising and diligent hands, they all morph into new and surprising recipes
on the dinner table. Taro leaves are those heart-shaped, bright green leaves that
look like elephant’s ears. Apparently, they are most commonly associated with Hawaii
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Leaves aside, even the flowers of vegetables like pumpkin, drumsticks and bakphul make for delightful fritters. But what truly takes the cake, in
my opinion, is what I like to call the Taming of the Banana
Tree. Like a Masai tribesman who makes the most comprehensive use of every
single part of a poached elephant, my mother manages to leverage the
entire banana tree. Under her watchful eye, the alert assembly line of her
kitchen swallows the banana tree and blissfully issues a wonderful miscellany
of items that are edible or simply useful or both. And if you think I’m exaggerating, here’s all that
actually gets used: Stem. Pith. Flowers. Leaves. Fruit (not just the ripe ones). See
what I mean?
Vegetable odds, ends, and peels: A dice of vegetables along with odds and
ends and even peels (of potatoes, squash, gourd, pumpkin, cauliflower or even
potol) can all come together to create something interesting. They can be used
to make a very characteristic Bengali chhenchki, labra, chorchori, ghonto or bata. Of course the peels
make for splendid dishes all by themselves. 
So what is amusing, even astonishing, to outsiders about Bengali culinary habits can be just another day in the kitchen for us. And I have a feeling this enthusiastic and single-mindedly utilitarian attitude towards culinary scraps is very much in line with the Indian way of doing things. It’s a marvelous combination of thrift and innovation. A sort of culinary jugaad. So there. But more importantly, if there’s ever a nationwide depression and food is rationed out, I know my mother will pull us through. We will all last for about three days on a single fish. Maybe a whole week on a single banana tree. Now you understand my obsessive relationship with food. It runs in the family.
