Choke on This A ZINE FOR ESPM 155AC Layout Manager: Lauren S. Ahn Contributers: Lauren S. Ahn, Guadalupe Barron Vargas, Celine Chen, & Tim De Guzman
Fall 2016
Dear reader,
Our project researches the fine line between food appropriation and food appreciation, and how to systems in our society navigate this fine line. Specifically, we focused our work on how ethnic food is presented and perceived in this country. We researched the experience of farm workers in the Salinas Valley who grow and produce most of the food distributed to restaurants in the Bay Area. Further down the supply chain, we also investigated the role of race and culture in the restaurant business. We also looked into the “gentrification” of specific foods—once staples of affordable meals now co-opted by expensive hipster trends. Another part of our project also looked at the differences between “ethnic” supermarkets and “regular” supermarkets, and the hidden messages that each convey. Our deliverable is an electronic zine that colorfully explores these niche aspects of food in society. Everyone in our group contributed substantially to our project. Guadalupe conducted interviews with farmworkers in the Salinas Valley, to research the working conditions they experiences. Celine researched the gentrification of four specific foods, and the hidden messages that different supermarkets convey. Lauren analysed how the intersections of capitalism and white supremacy leads to cultural erasure. Tim examined the inequities of success between white chefs and chefs of color while assessing the duties white chefs owe to the cultures they take influence from. We hope you enjoy our project.
Choke on This Team Celine and Lauren were not pictured in the candid on the left, but we assure you that they are real people who contributed many hours to this effort.
Mural in Clarion Valley, San Francisco. Photo taken by Lauren S. Ahn.
Ta b l e o f Co n t e n t s We organized the following content to first provide historical, political, and social context to the origins of “ethnic” food. Then to show the exploitative nature of food production in the United States, we provided personal interviews. The last two pieces involve the current cultural appropriation of food and what remains ahead in its future.
Erasure by Lauren S. Ahn
Photo by The New York Times
Photo by Trader Joe’s Inc.
A Simple Equation: Capitalism + White Supremacy = Cultural
9 Food Production Interviewsv by Guadalupe Barron Vargas
Photo by Lauren S. Ahn
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Photo courtesy of National Archives.
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From Food Trends to Food
At the Chef’s Table by Tim De
Gentrification by Celine Chen
Guzman
Capitalism + White Supremacy = Cultural Erasure by Lauren S. Ahn
T
he “diverse”—though diverse essentially means what white folks get to pick and choose— gastronomical landscape of the United States would not exist if it weren’t for the immigrants that have seasoned this country since its bland beginnings. I’m not talking about the Pilgrims or the inhabitants of the thirteen colonies. I’m talking about the folks who have been and are still criticized for being immigrants in the first place. I’m talking about the aliens, the orientals, the ethnic, the illegals, the thugs, the “rapists”— the people who’ve never fit into white America, even after having to assimilate. I’m talking about the people who have endured years of degradation and dehumanization with years of their history being systematically erased by white oppression and supremacy, even in 2016 by their President-Elect. Not surprisingly, the original “ethnic” restaurants of this country originated from
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Photos courtesy of Lauren S. Ahn unless noted otherwise “But you look at the kinds of Chinese food people eat—so-called Chinese food—in the United States, and it’s nothing like what they eat in China. It’s been Americanized, because most Americans aren’t comfortable with Chinese food until it’s turned into essentially an American version and served in an American setting.”
— Andrew Coe, Author of Chop Suey: A Cultural History of Chinese Food in the United States
oppression. The first influx of non-white immigrants began with the Chinese who flocked to California in 1848 with hopes of “striking it rich”, a misconception fueled by word of mouth and media, during the California Gold Rush. This number grew when political instability and lack of economic, social, and political mobility followed as a result of the violent Taiping Rebellion (1850-1864), which pushed more Chinese into the United States while pull factors such as the demand for cheap labor increased with the development of the Transcontinental Railroad. Many of the Chinese men who wished to return to China, after failed attempts to achieve financial stability in the US, could not return home. By 1852, in addition to the chaos of the Taiping Rebellion, famine and the massive flooding of the Huang He River left China in an even worse condition. Consequently, between 1848 and 1882, more than 322,000 Chinese immigrated into the United States but more than half of the 322,000 would return to China in waves due to their familial and cultural ties. The remaining would acclimate to American ways and endure through the anti-Chinese sentiment and ensuing discrimination. The first Chinese immigrants were men who worked as laborers in gold mines and fields in California. Whatever small sum of money they earned, they would send home to family members. They posed no visible threat to white miners or workers, except for the fact that they were physically different. For this, they were ostracized for their foreign ways. Numerous New York Times articles demonized the Chinese, along with many media outlets
at the time, by speculating that they ate rat and cat meat. The alienation and “othering” of the Chinese manifested itself even in legal practices— a defense v asserting that a Chinese witness could not be trusted for he ate rice with chopsticks. Ironically, the white men who visibly lynched, shot, and beat Chinese men were never tried for their actions, and the growing intolerance of the Chinese culminated with the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 which prohibited Chinese laborers from entering the country and prevented Chinese residents from applying for citizenships. By this point, forty years after the initial migration of Chinese to the US, the need for labor had sharply declined, and existing Chinese immigrants were denied jobs that threatened white masculinity. So, Chinese men took on traditionally feminine roles: cooking in restaurants and cleaning with laundromat businesses. The former took off due to the political and social optimization of the 1920s and a loophole in the exclusionary policy that allowed existing Chinese restaurants to sponsor Chinese immigrants as “business partners”, which shifted the popularity towards restaurants rather than laundromats and these businesses became sites for community and complex networks of financial support. With a larger Chinese population existing in masses across the East and West Coast and a growing tolerance of the “orient” through decades of gradual normalization, the Chinese were able to introduce “Chinese” food. Chinese restaurant owners, who had pooled money from their communities leading to community ownership of their restaurants, injected the first mainstream “ethnic” dish into American cuisine— chop suey. To survive in the US, they had to capitalize on their exoticism to survive. As a result, they watered down their cuisine, trading authenticity for dollar bills and family recipes for social acceptance, and invented chop suey, a dish consisting of chopped pork, chicken, or beef (a food group familiar to Americans) with slightly exotic vegetables like chestnuts, watercress, and bok choy. Due to the stable economy brought on by post-war prosperity and the New Deal which expanded government programs, the youth of the 1920s flaunted their cultured and cosmopolitan lifestyles by frequenting the foreign (and therefore interesting) and late night Chinese restaurants. What’s remarkable about the initial introduction of Americanized Chinese foods in the United States is that the presentation of non-white, ethnic foods remains roughly the same today, and the same people still decide what foods and imagery represent entire ethnic groups. Chinese takeout is still represented through slanted bold red typography and sketches of ancient architecture in China to appease white ideations of Chinese culture. To ensure sales and financial stability, immigrants still accommodate white palettes, especially in the mostly white regions of the Midwest. Because many immigrants who arrived in the US had their work credentials invalidated and lacked the financial, social, political, and cultural capital to afford higher education, credentials, and licenses to work higher-paying jobs, they, in a sense, were forced to open businesses
An advertisement by a Chinese restaurant.
“Chinese immigrants were denied jobs that threatened white masculinity. So, Chinese men took on traditionally feminine roles: cooking in restaurants and cleaning with laundromat businesses. The former took off due to the political and social optimization of the 1920s and a loophole in the exclusionary policy that allowed existing Chinese restaurants to sponsor Chinese immigrants as ‘business partners’...”
Courtesy of the National Archives.
that had to attract a predominantly white consumer base. In order to do this, the Chinese had to feed the Western imagination of what being the orient entailed, compressing their identities into a single dimension and submitting to white supremacy, allowing non-Chinese folks to define what Chinese culture looks like: chopsticks in buns, tight red dresses, and dragon tattoos. But descendents of these original immigrants are redefining and reclaiming their food cultures.
Food Production— Interviews by Guadalupe Barron Vargas
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he following are two out of a series of interviews I conducted regarding the labor conditions of farm workers in the Salinas Valley. Our project centers on the relationship between food appropriation and food appreciation. In food production and
consumption the importance of the stories of the people who put food at our table are crucial. Much of the labor of the Salinas Valley are demographically Mexican immigrants, there is a duality in places like Chipotle which on one hand profit from the selling of a culture, but do not offer the same regard and attention to the labor which produced that culture in the first place. The following are interviews with a current teacher and former farmworker. The dominant narrative which focuses on legality strips people of their story, their humanity, and many times of their agency. In reality these are some of the hardest working communities, people who are resilient in the face of many obstacles. The following interviewee is currently a high school
Photo courtesy of The Times
teacher in Salinas, a former AB 540 college student who worked summers to pay for school expenses while attending UC Davis.
Can you tell me about where you grew up, about your childhood, schooling history, where you were born? I was born in Mexico city, but grew up in Salinas CA. My parents migrated to this country when I was five due to poverty and [the] lack of opportunities. During that time, my brother and I stayed with our grandparents in Teloloapan, Guerrero. It’s a small town where people live with the very
First Interview with Héctor Rojas 9
“People sacrifice their bodies all Photo courtesy of Rick Wells
for the benefit of their bosses, who in turn, exploit the lack of resources and opportunities presented to these people.�
basic necessities. At the time, it was all I knew so I was generally happy, other than missing my parents, but looking back at it now, I would have missed out on a lot of opportunities, a lot of learning, and many experiences that came with the move to the US. After two years and a half, my parents decided to bring my brother and I to Salinas, to be together and to help us create a better future for ourselves. They believe in education, so they often spoke to me about the value of doing well in school. They were very supportive and encouraging about my schooling, often speaking to me about the value of education. I took it to heart and worked hard, being one of the better students in the classroom throughout my school years. When did you migrate to the US, what contributed to this decision? The year was 1999, and it was my parents who decided to bring me to the country. Just as I answered in the previous question, it was their desire to have the family back together, better opportunities, and the obstacles that were waiting for them in Mexico had they chosen to return.
Second Interview with Abuelito Jose (13-16)
Photo courtesy of SB Independent
What made you decide to work in farms, why did you choose this job over others ? I only worked in the fields during the summer of 2011. In order to save up money for tuition, I worked summers in whatever job I could find. This summer, my aunt’s husband helped me get hired by submitting the paperwork with someone else’s documentation. I didn’t have much choice in the jobs I could do since I didn’t have any legal way of getting hired, but this job seemed appealing due to the amount of money I could make per week. Can you describe the labor conditions in the farms you have worked? I remember it was tough. I was lucky and worked as a truck loader; although physically demanding, it wasn’t as tough on the body as picking strawberries. Due to the small number of truck loaders, we often didn’t have a lunch break. Although we’re supposed to have one by law, there is a lot of pressure to skip lunch due to the amount of work we had on a daily basis. We would eat while we drove to the next stack of strawberries, which was literally enough time for one bite of your lunch as the next stack was a couple of feet in away from the previous one. My team could technically go to the bathroom when we needed, but the portables follow the pickers, and we were usually a couple of fields behind them, so taking a bathroom break meant running across the fields in order to not waste much time. Because of this, bathroom breaks were rare for us. Hours were long. We would start around 6 am and end anywhere between 4 and 7 pm. The hours alone weren’t the issue. When they’re combined with the heat of summer and no shade, that’s when working in the fields becomes really challenging. People cover their faces with bandanas and hats in order to protect themselves from the sun’s rays and dust created from moving trucks. What produce have you picked? I only got to work as a strawberry truck loader.
What is the most challenging aspect of being a farm worker? The amount of manual labor we do, the wear and tear our bodies take, the lack of appreciation, and all for minimum wage. Being a farm worker is the modern day slave. I’m glad it was only a summer job for me, but people do this year after year. During the week, there’s hardly any time to do anything because the drive to and from work, along with the hours, takes up most of the day. Additionally, once one gets home, there’s no energy to do anything else. I admire parents as they still must somehow gather their energy to do daily chores, take care of their kids, and find time to spend with them. How did you get connected to your job as a farm worker? (Friends, family, etc?) My aunt’s husband helped me get the job. Have you ever felt unsafe in your job? No, but maybe it’s because of how I was raised. I had done manual labor since I was very young, and my parents taught me not to complain, which isn’t great advice depending on the circumstances, but it’s what they knew. So during that summer, I still had that mindset and I didn’t complain, I did what was asked. Does your job require that you migrate to other places in the US for seasonal work? I didn’t have to migrate as it was only for a summer, but I believe that strawberry workers don’t migrate. If you are comfortable answering this question; what is your pay ? Do you feel it’s fair pay for the work that you do? I was earning about $500 per week, which is not a lot. Compared to what I make right now as a teacher, that pay is nothing. For my needs at the time, it was enough, but I don’t see how people can make a living off of that, even when spouses combine pay. Furthermore, the job is physically exhausting. People sacrifice their bodies all for the benefit of their bosses, who in turn, exploit the lack of resources and opportunities presented to these people. Do you feel labor conditions need any changes? Of course. The awareness surrounding farm workers needs to change. We need to see the people under the sun working to pick our fruits and vegetables who sacrifice their bodies and health on a daily basis. Wages need to increase, and all people who work in the fields for a living need to have access to better benefits in order to ensure their health as well as those of their family members. In terms of your health, do you think that the nature of your job has contributed in anyway in both a positive or negative way? Because it was only a summer, and I had to lift thirty-pound boxes rapidly for about ten hours, I feel like it kept me in shape. But for people who do this for a living, the wear and tear has given them serious back issues.
The Bracero
This interview has given me an incredible sense of identity. Stories about immigration are not part dreams all in one. I never knew what it was like for my abuelito to come to the United States, wher with a great sense of respect and p
I
had my questions prepared as I had been the standard procedure for the previous interviews I had conducted. After asking my abuelito to tell me first about where he grew up, our interview took the form of his usual storytelling. He can remember the slightest of details including every word which was said, who said it, he even changes the tone of his voice to reflect the emotions of every person in each of his stories. It was 1951 when he first decided to immigrate to the United States. He and two his brothers, my tio Iginio, my tio Daniel, had grow up cultivating and working a small piece of land.
In 1955 when he was still working in a farm in Texas, he was offered a job by one of the American contractors looking for farmworkers who were illegal and wanted to be officially contracted. To do so, they first had to leave to Mexico. The rancher who was contracting him, took them to Mexico and then brought them back in with a contract to work for four months. The job only took to months. “At that time there were many people who had left, there wasn’t as much cotton to be picked. The payment was $2.05 for 100 lbs, so it was only when we picked around 300 lbs where we made $6.00. So when we all just started to make $3.00 because working was running
Photo courtesy of The National Archives
“It was around this time that I began thinking about going to the US, to Texas illegally to pick cotton, and I did like it. We wouldn’t make much per day, but since it was American money (at that time each dollar was worth about 8.50 pesos) it was better. In Mexico we could only make about 5 pesos (50 cents) per day. In texas we would make the same, $5 or $6 but it was in dollars.”
o Program
t of the table conversations in family because they are experiences of pain, fear, hardship, hope, and re he worked as a Bracero and later return to continue being a farmworker in the Salinas Valley. It is pride that I share a part of his story.
low people started to leave.� He also decided to leave and return to Mexico, but before a month had gone by he thought about the time he still had in his contract to work
in Texas, and decided to return to the first farm he had worked in. He had been great friends with one of the Braceros, Pancho who still worked at his first ranch and so he wrote asking him to inquire about returning and finishing his contract there. With a loan of $25 from him and confirmation that he could return to his first job mi abuelito set to cross the border once again, this time on his own. “By that time I had a little more experience. I was not as afraid, and I was motivated to do things on my own. So I got close to the river, and I saw how much water it was carrying, and it wasn’t too much. I put my clothes in a bag, and I crossed the river by myself. I remember that as I was walking down to get to the river I found a dead mule. I was very surprised and scared, I took a moment to control myself and I decided I had to cross. I grabbed a nearby stick used I used to help me walk through the river to feel around since there holes at the bottom...And I
crossed with the water going up to my waist.” So the returned to work at the first ranch where he had met Pancho, where is contract was renewed for another year. He returned to Mexico in 1956 to marry my abuelita. My abuelito first migrated to the US in 1951 illegally, but officially became part of the bracero program from 1955-1964. “All those years we made ends meet with the work he had as braceros. The first time I came was in Texas, then I went to Colorado where I worked with beet plants, Nebraska, Arkansa, Michigan, and other places”. He was worked in Rio Vista, here in California, as part of the work agreement between the Mexican and US government. Most work arrangements were for an average of 2-3 months, with California fruit picking in places like San Bernardino, offering the longest contracts with a maximum of 18 months. It was his last year in 1964 where he picked tomatoes, and returned to Mexico after. When I asked him about the challenges which he faced, he mentioned that the climate was a huge obstacle in being able to work. When it rained, workers were not allowed to work, and made no money except for a $1.15 they had to be paid by law to buy food. Not working and not getting paid resulted in difficult times. The memory of 1962 is still very vivid, where he described the economic hardship and sadness he experienced in Colorado. “It wouldn’t rain water but it would hail. It was hail as big as big as rock, and it would hurt when they hit against your skin. Each time it would hail, the roof of the house we were staying in would be filled with holes. When the rancher took us back to the office when our contract was over, you could see the sadness of all the workers. None of us had any luggage, a sign that we hadn’t worked much. The ranchers were also sad but they had insurance on their crops, and money for their daily expenses, but for us who were trying to make some money the situation was far worse.” “In California, all the fields had campos de borde, which had a dining place as well as barracks were all workers were housed in bunk beds. At 5 AM a bell would ring for us to get breakfast, and at 6 we would get on a bus that would take us to work. At noon a truck would arrive in the fields to take us food, rice, meat, and beans. There was always a lot of food, and we would end up throwing a lot of it away.” When I asked about his experience, he his very thankful that there was an opportunity to work and make a little bit more money than working in Mexico. His job as a bracero helped with sending money to my abuelita and their children, helped him to build a home, all which could only be afforded working in the US.
From Food Trends to Food Gentrification by Celine Chen
The rise of the sustainable food movement and its resulting “foodie” culture has created food trends that deem certain cultural foods desirable. While wellness enthusiasts discover seemingly new types of dishes for their ever changing diet, the demand for these crops and dishes can end up making the food inaccessible to the very communities they come from. “I think what’s going to happen – just like with everything – is we’ll go around the world and take a look at the things people haven’t seen before and haven’t fetishized yet. And then we’ll fetishize. People to blame are folks like me who run around the world, holding up foods and saying, ‘Hey, fetishize this!’” - Andrew Zimmern The recent attention to alternative food movements has led to the advent of Whole Foods and other “green markets”. This idea is supported with the new age of ‘ethical consumerism’ where supermarkets chains like Whole Foods end up spurring a wave of gentrification. These upscale franchises see business opportunities in food deserts as city developers seek to bring grocery stores to these areas and at the same time “revitalize the neighborhood”. This phenomenon, titled the “Whole Food Effect” is where Whole Foods and other expensive grocery stores act as a stamp of approval for investors that the neighborhood is a quality buy (Allen, 2004). While Whole
Foods is not the sole perpetrator of this effect, it is certainly the most prominent in health conscious grocery stores. Take a look at some of these “new found” foods featured in Whole Foods and other health sources from recent years: Blogger Mikki Kendall coined the term “food gentrification” in response to Whole Food’s advertisement of collard greens as “the new kale”. Used as a marketing tool, Whole Foods seeks to rebrand these traditional greens into cancer-fighting “superfoods”, a move that ups the price on them. The minute they are labeled healthy by health magazines, grocery retailers, and food manufacturers, they become the new gold standard by which foodconscious consumers desire and price. Collards have been a staple crop of working class Southern White and Black people in America, only now that Whole Foods has “discovered” it, the same lowincome population will no longer be able to afford it. Whole Food’s marketing of collards parallels its efforts to rebrand kale, its predecessor so popular in America in 2013 that several magazines touted it as “the year of the kale”. With Whole Food’s new slogan that “Collards are the new Kale”, it heavily implies that this boom will also occur with collards. Collards has its roots with “Soul Food”, fusion cuisine created by African American slaves that combined spicy ingredients and methods of cooking from various west African cultures. Within the subculture of Soul Food, collard greens and kales were widely used for vegetable sustenance and its importance in the culinary exchange of African Americans cannot be denied. These foods were considered ingredients that the white planter class families would never and and even poor white people would proclaim their racial superiority by eating actual dirt than eat nutritious foods that Black slaves ate. Yet now, predominately white shopping superstores will claim that these foods are newly discovered in America’s ever evolving gaze. While the history of collards lies in the past, the impacts of its gentrification has real physical consequences. After a Whole Foods moves into places like midtown Detroit, rent automatically increases, with fancier food and entertainment venues following, displacing its original black and brown residents.
Collards
Quinoa Nowadays, quinoa is a staple crop in the alternative food movement, another crop that has been lauded for its nutritional qualities. Domesticated in Bolivia and Peru over 3000 years ago, this indigenous crop grows on arid high mountain plains in Bolivia. While quinoa is valued for its health value, the southern Altiplano region it grows in is the most malnourished in Bolivia because farmers can no longer afford to eat their own crop. The demand for quinoa in Western countries has meant that farmers will sell quinoa at a higher price to overseas companies, leaving locals unable to buy it. It has become more
profitable for them to buy cheaper and filling products like pasta and rice, and along with the “West” discovering quinoa, their diets have also become westernized. The marketing of quinoa appropriates its native roots, with places like the Rodale Institute calling it, “the lost crop of the Incas”, as if it has never been eaten before the west had deemed it the new trend. There is no denying that the rising exports of quinoa has increased income for farmers, but as the West consumes more of this indigenous crop, chronic malnutrition in children has also increased in these quinoa growing parts. With quinoa leaving the country to go to the dinner tables of affluent health conscious consumers, people living in these regions of Bolivia rely more on processed western foods with little to no nutrition.
Pho
In recent months, the food gentrification of pho has been widely discussed on social media, particularly in response to a Bon Appetit video of a Philadelphia chef Tyler Akin, a white man giving a video tutorial called “PSA: How to Eat Pho”. A traditional food originating from northern Vietnam, pho holds a strong cultural symbol and presence within Vietnamese culture. By painting him as the authority on eating pho, Akin and Bon Appetitie simultaneously ignore rebrands a cultural symbol of cuisine as worthy of attention, that is, white attention. Akin is turned into an “authentic connoisseur”, one that can introduce an exotic food to an American and white audience. This, arguably is different from places like Panda Express selling Chinese American food, as its evolution occurred through a history of exchange and assimilation. In this case, Bon Appetite is marketing its video as an authentic product, with the style of eating attributed to Akin. Whether or not something is considered cultural appropriation is dependent on power, and when even the pronunciation of pho is butchered, there is no doubt that Akin and other white-owned “Asian Fusion” restaurants hold an exploitative nature. “Names holds ancestral and historical significance for many minority, immigrant, and English learning students. Names bring stories, which students are often forced to adapt to an “Americanized” context.” “Names have incredible significance to families, with so much thought, meaning and culture woven into them,” Kohli says. “When the child enter school and teachers— consciously or not—mispronounce, disregard or change the name, they are in a sense disregarding the family and culture of the students as well.”
Pupusas Invented by the indigenous Pipil people in El Salvador, pupusas were made popular in the the U.S. in recent decades. While the U.S. continues to detain and deport Salvadorans from the Central American refugee crisis, historically Central American enclaves such as San Francisco’s Mission District and Echo Park in Los Angeles continues to be gentrified. Whole Foods sells its own brand of frozen gluten-free pupusas made by two white individuals in Boulder, Colorado. These ‘whitewashed pupusas’ are no longer flat, but round and its makers even advise to eat it with fried eggs on the top. While there is no doubt that food inevitably is exchanged and evolved through the mixing of cultures, it all depends on the context to determine its appropriative nature. In this case, it is hugely appropriative for this company, owned by two white women, to market its company as Tres Latin and that it has “a surprising twist on Latin cuisine”. Unfortunately, the company does not draw the line of exploiting Salvadorian culture at food, as its website urges people to buy its pupusas before Salvadoran New Year’s, saying “To be a true Salvadoran, make sure you buy “estreno” before midnight. In other words, make sure you buy a new outfit to wear for the night’s festivities!”. Not only is this company profiting off Salvadoran food and culture, it also undermines the work and viability of actual Salvadoran pupuserias. By calling their product “Latin hot pockets”, it disrespects an entire culture and endangers the livelihoods of actual Salvadoran people selling pupusas. Western countries have been built through colonization and slavery, and the effects of it can still be seen today. Food gentrification and cultural appropriation of food is arguably a modern form of colonization.
At the Chef’s Table by Tim DeGuzman
F
ood can be a deeply personal facet of daily life. Much more than mere sustenance, a meal can provide cultural connections, creative outlets, and a sense of community. For second-generation immigrants and onwards, meals can speak to the very heart of their cultural identities, playing central roles in their interactions with their heritage. This is why for some non-white Americans, the idea of “ethnic food” being prepared by someone not of the respective ethnicity can almost feel like a form of cultural theft. This begs the question: when, if ever, is it acceptable for a white chef to craft a restaurant around another culture’s cuisine? Where does taking inspiration cross over into a form of co-opting? Is right to target the indignation towards the individual chef, who is often living from paycheck to paycheck? NPR’s The Salt recently pitched this question out to their listeners via twitter and got back some insightful responses (Godoy & Chow, 2016): Cooking other cultures’ food, just like learning their language, is a beautiful tribute to and acknowledgment of those cultures! As chefs, we study/duplicate, and then make it again with our own spin/interpretation. If you stop at “copy,” there’s a problem. It (only) bothers me when food media treats the chef like s/he “discovered” a dish or, worse, “improved” or “elevated” it. The last sentiment echoes a new term being thrown about: “Columbusing.” This means to seemingly unearth or invent a practice or tradition that has been around for centuries in other cultures, while taking credit for it. The term may be new but the practice is surely not unfamiliar (Nguyen, 2016).
Pine State Biscuits in Alberta Arts District, Port
How then can a chef tastefully build a career for his/her self while cooking another culture’s cuisine? To explore this arduous question, we explore the pa Bayless.
Rick Bayless is an American chef who has received numerous accolades including National Ch Outstanding Restaurant from the James Beard Foundation in 2007. In some circles, he is regarded a Here’s the kick: he is a white guy from Oklahoma. This fact has earned him an almost endless wave
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tland, OR. Photo taken by Lauren S. Ahn.
aradigm of this particular conundrum: Rick
hef of the Year in 2005; his restaurant won as the U.S.’s ambassador to Mexican cuisine. e of criticism (Saini, 2016).
Is this justified? If we take aforementioned tweets to heart, then Chef Bayless’ mastery of Mexican cuisine is simply a beautiful tribute and acknowledgement of Mexican culture. Bayless’ devotion to Mexican cuisine truly is heartfelt. According to the chef himself: “It doesn’t come from a shallow understanding; it comes from a deep understanding. I’ve done everything I can to make it my own.” He isn’t kidding—Bayless is fluent in Spanish and has spent five years traveling through every state of Mexico, learning the intricacies of each region’s cuisine along the way. He returns each year with his staff for research and training (Saini, 2016). With this in mind, we would say he is the gold standard for white chefs cooking “ethnic food.” However, things can get sticky when money is involved. Bayless has built an empire surrounding his interpretation of Mexican cuisine. Frontera, Topolobampo, and Xoco are just a few of his highly-successful restaurants. Throw in his popular cookbooks and line of hot sauces and it seems like this man is making a fortune, not to forget the fame and distinctions he receives (rickbayless.com). All of these rewards are thanks to the rich history and traditions of Mexico, but go to a white man from Oklahoma. At first thought this feels wrong yet, he tenaciously spent all the time and effort to immerse himself in Mexican culture to deeply understand the cuisine so, does he not deserve it? How is it that Rick Bayless can pull this off while restauranteurs of color are often left in the dark? Food writer Francis Lam examined this question in The New York Times. One of the obvious factors lies in the fact that American-born chefs are more likely than immigrant chefs to have the connections and means to grab attention from the media or support from investors. Furthermore, Lam proposes that experimenting with a cuisine as an outsider actually lifts barriers that those born into the cuisine would face. It is easier to be objective in viewing all the ways
a particular dish can be prepared—there are no obligations to familial traditions. Additionally, American-born chefs have a better grasp of the expectations of their mainstream American audience. This helps not only with selling and advertising their meals, but also in curating their menus (Lam, 2016). The most insightful notion Lam probes emerges in his conversation with Andy Ricker—a white chef from Portland
“People are willing more when the kitc full of straight whit because they look l they should be paid — Luke Tsai, East Bay Express
to pay chen is te guys like d more.”
who has received a James Beard Award for his Thai restaurants. Lam writes: “Diners’ familiarity and comfort levels can play a part, and can even edge into prejudice. Mr. Ricker mentioned a widespread misperception in this country that restaurants with white owners are somehow cleaner than others. ‘It’s ridiculous,’ he said” (Lam, 2016). The role of diners’ inherent biases should not be overlooked. Perhaps the conversation shouldn’t be centered about setting a guide for how a white chef can cook ethnic food in an acceptable manner, but instead be targeted towards dismantling some larger issues ingrained in our society. Krishendu Ray, associate professor at New York University, asserts “sometimes, our judgments of good taste have nothing to do with literal taste. It has to do with our notions and conceptions of a class of people” (Godoy, 2016). America has a long history of denigrating the cuisines of recent immigrants. In the late 19th century, waves of Greek and Italian immigrants arrived in this country—initially working lowpaying service jobs and living in clustered ghettos. As expected, their cuisines were looked down upon not only by gastronomes, but nutritionists as well. As the Greek and Italian groups climbed up the socioeconomic ladder through the decades, Ray points out that the impressions of their foods changed too (Godoy, 2016). The story repeats itself with every wave of immigrant culture. Japanese-Americans have once been ridiculed for their food. Now that Japan is an economic
superpower, Japanese food is touted as haute cuisine. In fact, the most expensive restaurant in the nation today is a sushi restaurant in New York. Recent developments within the food world have made it so that new immigrants don’t have to wait decades before having their cuisines revered. The James Beard Foundation (think of it as “The Academy” behind the Oscars of the food world) reserves a very particular distinction for locally owed establishments that show “timeless appeal” and serve “quality food that reflects the character of the community:” the American Classics award. First recipients of this award were of Jewish delis, fried chicken spots, sandwich shops, and the like— quintessential American food culture. As of late however, the “Classics” label has expanded to encompass less-traditionally American foods, honoring cuisines of immigrants whose cultures have not yet fully integrated in the melting pot. Recent additions into the food hall-of-fame include a dim sum establishment in San Francisco, a Native American eatery in Phoenix, and a Lebanese restaurant in Dearborn (McMillan, 2016). Movements are in place to open up space for restauranteurs of color and recognize them for their talents. Criticizing Anglo-American chefs for cooking other culture’s foods is practically unproductive if no efforts are made to buttress and validate immigrant chefs’ cooking. The food world today is starting to appreciate elements of non-Anglo food—whether it be made by white chefs or not. Society’s shift towards multicultural eating can be a fantastic gateway to opening minds to each other’s cultures.
Fall 2016