Change of hearth

Pasta, rajma, candy bars... much of what we eat today has been shaped by violence in some form. As borders are redrawn, the world is seeing new evolutions: in Syria, Ukraine, Yemen, Sudan, Afghanistan, Bangladesh, Myanmar, Bolivia. Three books trace how food changes, in refugee camps and conflict zones. As well as, the joy, love and resistance that a hearty meal can hold

- Sukanya Datta

About 90 years ago, people risked prison for the sake of pasta.

Benito Mussolini launched a campaign against the staple in Italy, in the 1930s, and tried to promote rice instead. Rice grows abundantly there (Italy is currently Europe's largest exporter of the grain), while most of the wheat needed for pasta is imported.

When word went out that their ruler wanted people to switch, pasta simply went underground. Restaurants took it off menus but still served it; grandmothers secretly made it for their families.

Mussolini eventually gave up his attempt to ban Italy's favourite meal.

Food has always found a way around despots. Every ancient recipe we know has survived wars and displacement. Tucked into our favourite comfort foods are tales of rebellion, resilience and survival.

Yet, cuisine is also a fragile thing. Rewrite the lines in a recipe, and something may be lost forever. Raze a particular forest and a dish may never taste the same again.

Treat a culinary culture with disdain, and its people may lose some of the pride they felt in it.

So it is with India's Dalits and Gaza's embattled people; in refugee camps home to Syrians and Ukrainians, the Uyghur and Sudanese.

Much of what we eat today has been shaped by violence, in some form.

Did you know that the rajma in rajma-chawal is a foreign import?