Authenticity Is a Scam, And It’s More Than Just Your Taste Buds That Are Losing Out

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Calling all foodies! I hate to break it to you (actually I don’t), but authenticity is an overrated scam. And a racist one, too, at that. Now, before you stop slurping your noodles from shock (noodles which you probably ordered from some soon-to-be viral hole-in-the-wall), let me explain myself.

The search for authenticity in food causes way more harm than good. Some argue that this term is a respectful way to honor traditional food and cooking techniques from cuisines that have long been marginalized. Don’t get me wrong, that is a noble pursuit. However, in reality, an emphasis on authenticity only upholds racist stereotypes, traps chefs/restaurateurs of color in an impossible situation, and restricts creative innovation, which would otherwise benefit the culinary world (and thus, your taste buds).

Before we tuck-in to the meat of this essay (pun intended), it is necessary to explain what terms and concepts I will be using. “Ethnic,” in relation to the culinary world, is a loaded term, and quite problematic. Its use refers to foreign, “exotic” dishes, and is unjustly seen as low-brow food, signifying inferiority. Lumping all cuisines, other than White, European ones, into one category is clearly unfair, as they cannot and should not be generalised. Nevertheless, I will be using the term “ethnic” below, as it is a succinct way of signifying food/restaurants outside of the White, European mainstream.

It is also important to define authenticity, which is harder than it sounds. While the literal definition of authentic, according to google, is something of “undisputed origin; genuine,” I argue, similarly to food writer Jaya Saxena, that authenticity is a social construct. Food authenticity, in this context, caters to Western hipsters, on their journey to recreate personal and specific food memories from their travels to far-flung corners of the world, from the safety and comfort of their hometown. It is an impossibly high bar for “ethnic” cuisines to vault over, and one that should be re-examined.

Authenticity in food is, ultimately, a buzzword; jargon that has been fashionable, and controversial, for years now. It is a concept used by the foodies described above to seal a misguided stamp of approval on “ethnic” restaurants. This needs to change.

Not only is authenticity too abstract to be attainable, it is also inaccessible to the average home cook (what about those who can’t afford a molcajete, who can’t source cassava at their local grocery store, who don’t have the time to make hand-pulled noodles from scratch?) Even more so, though, authenticity uses racist rhetoric which traps “ethnic” chefs and restaurateurs in a double bind.

The rhetoric of authenticity is rooted in racist language and upholds White supremacist stereotypes. In Sara Kay’s Yelp review study, she found that authenticity, when used in relation to “ethnic” food (mostly Asian and Latin American cuisines), was a synonym for dirty and cheap. In contrast, when “authentic” was used to review European food, it described an elegant and fine-dining experience. For restaurants serving “ethnic” food, there was a direct correlation between the use of the term “authentic”, and negative reviews.

Thus, this authenticity rhetoric not only equates non-European dining experiences with dirtiness, and even illness, but also ensures that “ethnic” restaurateurs can do nothing about it. Restaurants that do dare to update and innovate (so as not to be labelled cheap and dirty) lose their stamp of authenticity. This traps “ethnic” restaurateurs in a system where no matter what they do, they will receive negative reviews. In this sense, the search for authenticity supports a dichotomy, whereby White, European food is superior to “ethnic” dining experiences. This is white supremacy in action.

To be fair, this trend of authenticity has given space and praise to “ethnic” chefs and restaurateurs, for once bypassing, and oftentimes criticizing, White chefs, in an effort to challenge cultural appropriation. But this search for authenticity has clearly also placed an unfair burden on the shoulders of people of colour, and effort should be made to dismantle this racist rhetoric.

But wait - for those who are still not convinced about the problems with searching for authenticity, don’t forget to consider your taste buds!

This double bind, as outlined above, restricts creativity in “ethnic” cuisines, punishing innovation with negative reviews. This search for authenticity means that only White, European culinary spaces have the opportunity to experiment with technique and flavor. Thus, we are missing out on many potential new, delicious foods.

An example of what eludes us in our search for authenticity is assimilation food. A term coined by Soleil Hol, assimilation food refers to the creative cuisine forged by immigrants carving out their identities in new lands. In this genre, White, mainstream expectations are powerfully rejected and the tradition of colonizers is refused: McDonald’s hamburgers top jasmine rice, spaghetti and Prego sauce is mixed with Hmong sausage and Thai chilis, and bánh mì is served on a slice of Wonder Bread. This dedication to “inauthenticity” is a manifesto of the immigrant experience, telling stories which many can identify with and relate to.

By rejecting the very concept of authenticity, assimilation food manages to stay true to the immigrant experience, while simultaneously embracing experimentation and innovation in flavor and technique. By obsessing over a dish’s origin and authenticity, we are only missing out on a new world for our taste buds. In this way, the search for authenticity stifles innovation and prevents us from reaching our true potential, in regards to the evolution of creative, and most importantly delicious, food.

If we take what consumer scholar John Pine says into consideration, then we can realise that, in reality, every experience we have is authentic. It is something that happens inside of us. Sitting down to eat at a Chinese-American restaurant that takes inspiration from Jewish traditions in New York and has a Nigerian chef doesn’t make the food any less authentic (or any less delicious). Instead, it is celebrating cultural appreciation, the joy there can be in sharing our favourite foods, and the excitement there is in trying to recreate food memories. I argue that because every dish tells at least one person’s story, then every culinary experience is inherently authentic.

Ultimately, the foodie world’s search for authenticity is just this: an upper-middle class White person going into an “ethnic” restaurant, demanding the food remind them of their nostalgic travels, and leaving a bad review when it inevitably doesn’t. This unattainable goal unfairly burdens “ethnic” restaurants, leans in to racist stereotypes which uphold White supremacy, and restricts innovation and creativity to the White, European culinary world, harming our collective goal of tasty food.

No matter the dish, stories will be told. Immigrant stories. Assimilation stories. Mexican in Los Angeles, and Egyptian in Chicago stories. Stories that not only the chef and restaurateur can relate to, but also the customer, the consumer. You. Surely there is nothing more authentic than this?

So what can you do, as someone who values good food, and the stories that dishes can tell? I propose this: throw out the term “authenticity” as you know it, stop overthinking, and just eat.

Trust me, it won’t just be your taste buds that will be grateful.