Why Has Some Food Resisted Gentrification?
On any food blogger’s page, fusion or “elevated” versions of ethnic dishes are everywhere. From kimchi to ceviche, the trend is to take an ethnic classic and, ahem, improve it. Sometimes the results are beautiful with a careful nod to their origins. Others end up getting famous for their terrible interpretation of the dish. In fact, people like Nigel Ng–also known as Uncle Roger–grew in popularity for trashing culinary icons’ interpretations of different Asian dishes. Yet they say “imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.” The full phrase lends a bit more clarity, “imitation is the sincerest form of flattery that mediocrity can pay to greatness.” No wonder these dishes rarely compare to the originals, the comfort food from a family kitchen. In “Shop Girl,” writer Dionne Irving Bremyer once wrote that only she will know “how blood thickens stew, how marrow complicates flavor, how the perfect pepper in the bin must be found.”
Flattery. But why does some cuisine warrant imitation (or “elevation”) and others do not? Part of the answer lies in the media concept of each culture. There must be myths surrounding the people, something that a Eurocentric lens might see as valuable to their own. The culture must be something deemed imaginative enough to make the food itself worthy of the Western touch. Consider the stories behind Italian food–we only have to look to The Godfather for the cultural mythology. Japanese food? Nobility, elegance, and–of course–samurais which seem like a different world. We have everything from Kurosawa to anime to thank for bringing an idea of Japan to the states and then to our plates.
Without a cultural fantasy, foreign food is just seen as peasant food. Humorously, the most popular ethnic foods eaten in the states are peasant food. We just liked the story behind them better. Tacos, guacamole, noodles, hummus.
The history of other places are not quite as palatable, and therefore far less known. Very few culinary giants attempt food from West Africa or the Caribbean (unless it’s jerk chicken). They could tell you the difference between Chinese cuisine based on region, but could not tell you the difference between a Trinidadian saltfish dish and a Jamaican saltfish dish. It’s all one and the same to these food connoisseurs. Here’s the kicker: they also do not care to know.
The millions of preparations of gungo peas and they would not know or care. In order to care, they would also have to know the people, the culture, and the land beyond the resorts and tourist traps. These places are not made of the same type of mythology they want. No temples, shrines, or pyramids. No Hollywood movie to make them pine to be born in that culture and hold that history. The history itself in the forgotten nations are indeed powerful, but it is too bloody and too complicated to embrace and “elevate.” There is no single story of these countries and without a simple digestible history, well, the food becomes indigestible.
So no fusion Trini doubles, no elevated mannish water. Yet. It’ll stay mostly untouched for a little longer and gentrification won’t be on my plate. I’m not sure if I’m pleased or pissed.
