What makes food—dishes within the scope of a cuisine—’authentic’?
Some may answer that food is ‘authentic’ if the chef is cool and cooks with “blood, sweat, and tears”. Others may say integral use of traditional ingredients and techniques, or a recipe that’s been passed down multiple generations. If it’s ethnic food from a developing country, for example, Cambodian food, many self-proclaimed foodies believe Cambodian food is most ‘authentic’ from street vendors or hole-in-the-wall restaurants. In other words, Cambodian food is ‘authentic’ if it’s cheap and the restaurant raises a suspicion of unhygienic practices. This standard, of course, doesn’t apply to western cuisines.
Anyways, let me present to you 3 reasons why ‘authentic’ food is stupid and nonsensical.
1. Discriminates Against Cooks
Interestingly, when applied to food, the word ‘authentic’ often interrogates the ethnic background and upbringing of the cook.
Is food ‘authentic’ if the cook isn’t from the country or place where the food originates? Let’s say, an Italian-American making a Cambodian rice noodle dish called Num Banhchok. If they spent years learning the labour intensive craft of Num Banhchok, yes, it’s ‘authentic’? If they mastered the craft of Num Banhchok, opened a restaurant in the USA serving that dish, touched it up with crispy crumbled bacon for that fusion flair, tasting extra tasty, is it still ‘authentic’? If no, would that answer change if the chef in question was a local Cambodian doing exactly that—crispy crumbled bacon in Num Banhchok—at their restaurant in Cambodia? Yes, no, maybe? What if their local customers actually enjoy it?
2. Disables Evolution Of Cuisines
Imagine if Portuguese traders in the 15th or 16th century introduced chilli peppers to Southeast Asians [1] and they said “nah”, turned it away because it would make their food less ‘authentic’.
Intentionally or not, people who care about ‘authentic’ food will police it, stop it from evolving and adapting to globalisation, changing palettes of younger generations, etc. When they use the word ‘authentic’, they assign themselves the position of judge, whether or not they’re qualified to do so, and may judge the food based on their personal bias. For instance, if a person grew up eating only Cambodian food from their village, they may not consider that same food ‘authentic’ elsewhere if it deviates from their expectations in looks, taste, price, or even restaurant aesthetics. This problem, in fact, was the reason why the Cambodian food education platform Expressions Hub was established.
While having lunch at a restaurant in Phnom Penh, Cambodia, two young ambitious Cambodians named Ben and Champarath—the founders of Expressions Hub—explained to me a disturbing concern they had: there was (and still is) a severe lack of food education within the majority of Cambodia’s local population, rejecting regional, traditional Cambodian foods that they weren’t familiar with. Ben and Champarath believed that this root problem was hampering the growth of Cambodian cuisine. Confronting this issue, since 2019 they have regularly released Facebook and YouTube videos in Khmer about local foods from across Cambodia, educating viewers on each dish’s flavour profile, ingredients, recipe, history, and eating etiquette.
3. Deceives Innocent Customers
For over a decade ‘authentic’ was a buzzword used to describe an ethnic food or restaurant that’s pure, the real deal, uncorrupted by western influences. To nobody’s surprise, marketers took this to their advantage, exploiting oblivious but innocent customers.
It’s not unusual for ethnic restaurants to claim their foods are ‘authentic’. You may find them on the outskirts of suburban areas, in tourist hot spots, or in the city centre whose majority residents aren’t ethnically related to the restaurant. These ethnic restaurants may adjust their recipes to suit the palettes of their customers. Which is absolutely fine. What’s not fine is significantly adjusting recipes and, directly or by implication, advertising their food as ‘authentic’.
A personal story I can share is my trip to Washington, USA in 2022. Accompanied by my Filipino-American girlfriend, we visited a crafts market, found a Filipino baker and purchased their Filipino-influenced pie made with ube—a bright purple, subtly sweet yam that plays a major role in traditional Filipino desserts, notably in the form of ube halaya (sweetened paste). Thoroughly familiar with ube halaya, we (including my girlfriend’s Filipino mother) were sorely disappointed when we tasted the ube halaya pie. The flavours of the ube were muted, when in most Filipino desserts it’s prominent. We were even more disappointed that the baker sold nearly all of their ube halaya pies, likely to many customers who were under the impression that it was ‘authentic’ or represents Filipino food well.
Lesson learnt: Just because food contains traditional ingredients or is prepared by a person of relevant ethnicity doesn’t mean it’s ‘authentic’.
What To Say Or Look For Instead Of ‘Authentic’ Food?
In regards to food, traditional seems to overlap with ‘authentic’, with a key difference: traditional can be perceived as ‘authentic’ but ‘authentic’ isn’t necessarily traditional. If you enjoy eating or making old-fashioned foods, often handmade and associated with non-automated tools, seek or use the word traditional.
For innovated cultural foods, assuming the cook is melding two or more ethnic foods with respect and finesse, inspired or influenced is a good descriptor. Filipino-inspired pie. French-influenced paella. Inspired by Polish flaki soup. Influenced by Portuguese Francesinha sandwich. If phrases or expressions are more apt, you can also say:
- ‘personal take on‘ Vietnamese pho
- ‘fusion of‘ Chinese bao and Thai massaman curry
- Cambodian papaya salad ‘with a twist‘
1. “Chilli’s complicated history“. Bangkok Post. 2019.