Posted byyashvi9March 17, 2021May 28, 2021Posted inUncategorized
How many times have you thought about where your food is truly coming from? Whether it be a local vegetable vendor, some farm-fresh milk, or packaged imported items that have probably crossed a sea to get to where you are – all food creates some kind of impact. We’re here today to discuss the intersection of the cultural impact of food and the environmental impact of food, i.e. the trade-off between authenticity and slow-food. How does slow food impact authenticity? How do environmental preservation and cultural preservation clash but also go hand-in-hand? In this article I talk about how slow food (or the lack thereof) influences the cultural exchanges of our globalised world. The general concept of slow food is that it is the antidote (or more realistically, an alternative) to fast food. Slow food promotes local food ecosystems and traditional cooking, and aims to keep sustainable food practices alive. In this sense, the term ‘slow food’ has become an ambiguous umbrella term for keywords like ‘farm fresh’ or ‘organic’ foods that are ‘local’. But Slow Food is a specific movement, and it is one that has been alive and growing for nearly 35 years now. Let’s zoom into the official movement for some more context.
The Slow Food logo, which is a snail. From: https://www.slowfood.com/
The Slow Food movement was started in 1986 in Italy by Carlo Petrini and a group of activists with a campaign against the establishment of a McDonald’s near the famous Spanish Steps of Rome. It became an official movement with a Manifesto in 1989, and for most of the 1990s it slowly expanded across the rest of Europe. Since the early 2000s it has spread internationally, with its most recent Congress having people from over 160 countries. The 3 tenets of their philosophy are: Good, Clean and Fair. They have several projects that span the truly limitless world of food – from protecting biodiversity to having movements catered around slow cheese, slow meat, slow fish, slow wine, bees, climate change, health, food waste, GMOs, land grabbing and even slow food travel. It’s safe to say that they do a lot – with their main aim being attempting to integrate otherwise dying local ecosystems within the rapid globalisation our world has seen over the past few decades.
The word ‘local’ makes a lot of appearances when we’re talking about slow food, and here is where the world of authenticity and slow food collide. In a previous article, I addressed the complicated ways in which the authenticity of a dish is established. To add onto that discussion, here’s one rather important marker of what makes up an ‘authentic’ dish, a marker that is very much entangled with slow food: it’s the usage of ‘signature’ or ‘specialty’ ingredients in a dish. Examples of this are ‘fancy cheeses’ like parmigiano reggiano, roquefort, brie, camembert, gouda, etc. – all European specialties. The use of condiments like miso – essential to Japanese cooking, or chunjang (Fermented black bean paste) – without which the famous jjajangmyeon (black-bean noodles) cannot be made, – doenjang (Korean fermented soybean paste), and gochujang (Korean fermented red pepper paste) can also be noted here. The highlight of Wagyu steak is that it uses hyperlocal and very carefully bred cows – seemingly irreplaceable beyond the steakhouses of Japan. Spain’s Paella Valenciana is known for its use of rabbit – something that is not a common consumption item outside of this context.
The Slow Food movement was started in 1986 in Italy by Carlo Petrini and a group of activists with a campaign against the establishment of a McDonald’s near the famous Spanish Steps of Rome. It became an official movement with a Manifesto in 1989, and for most of the 1990s it slowly expanded across the rest of Europe. Since the early 2000s it has spread internationally, with its most recent Congress having people from over 160 countries. The 3 tenets of their philosophy are: Good, Clean and Fair. They have several projects that span the truly limitless world of food – from protecting biodiversity to having movements catered around slow cheese, slow meat, slow fish, slow wine, bees, climate change, health, food waste, GMOs, land grabbing and even slow food travel. It’s safe to say that they do a lot – with their main aim being attempting to integrate otherwise dying local ecosystems within the rapid globalisation our world has seen over the past few decades.
The word ‘local’ makes a lot of appearances when we’re talking about slow food, and here is where the world of authenticity and slow food collide. In a previous article, I addressed the complicated ways in which the authenticity of a dish is established. To add onto that discussion, here’s one rather important marker of what makes up an ‘authentic’ dish, a marker that is very much entangled with slow food: it’s the usage of ‘signature’ or ‘specialty’ ingredients in a dish. Examples of this are ‘fancy cheeses’ like parmigiano reggiano, roquefort, brie, camembert, gouda, etc. – all European specialties. The use of condiments like miso – essential to Japanese cooking, or chunjang (Fermented black bean paste) – without which the famous jjajangmyeon (black-bean noodles) cannot be made, – doenjang (Korean fermented soybean paste), and gochujang (Korean fermented red pepper paste) can also be noted here. The highlight of Wagyu steak is that it uses hyperlocal and very carefully bred cows – seemingly irreplaceable beyond the steakhouses of Japan. Spain’s paella Valenciana is known for its use of rabbit – something that is not a common consumption item outside of this context.
These ingredients are usually local or hyperlocal in that they are abundantly available in their locality of origin (and perhaps not so naturally available outside). This is where the discussion becomes twofold. On one hand, the use of something local in a dish is completely in line with the principles of slow food that promote such local ecosystems. On the other hand, some obstacles arise when there are attempts to make this dish in its ‘authentic’ form outside the local ecosystem where its signature ingredient thrives. In such cases, there are many routes one can take. The first and simplest one would be to give up. This is followed by the second option: substituting the special ingredient with something local (if it’s possible), like using Amul cheese instead of parmesan or mozzarella in pasta and pizza preparations. The third option is using the ingredient as is, imported from the country of origin. The fourth is the attempts to replace such imported products with an indigenously-created product which is almost the same. The very last option is attempting the creation of new legacies using local ingredients and culinary innovation. The first two options, to a large extent, are simple and so we’ll discuss the nuances of the third and fourth options in-depth in the following paragraphs.
We start with the third option: Imports and exports. Imports and exports are the cornerstone of our globalised world, where exports of specialty or signature ingredients can often be how some countries carve out a niche for their economy, and imports of such foods are how immigrants can recreate a little bit of their culture outside of their home countries. When we look at these things, they seem like something to be encouraged, and for the most part, they are – they boost economies, cultural exchanges, and build bridges between different countries. However, the over-consumption of such an ingredient can be very harmful – and this is one of the things that the slow food movement is trying to battle. The best example for this is the use and overuse of the avocado that has all too entirely been swept up by new food trends.
The avocado has been an indigenous staple of South and Central America – something that has been a part of their cultivation practices and diets since 500 BC. In the public (read: Western/American) eye, the avocado’s popularity has been steadily rising since before the early 2010s, finally blowing up near the mid-2010s. The avocado went from being a delicious staple of Latin American cuisines (most popular being guacamole, tostadas and ceviche) to a ‘superfood’ to be spread onto toast, used in smoothies and turned into fabulous ‘avocado roses’. This fuelled the over-production of avocados, in order to create enough supply for the increasing global demand for this product. Unfortunately, this has created a large carbon footprint, through things such as illegal deforestation, soil degradation and excess water usage in the countries where avocados are cultivated and exported from. Additionally, this international trade has heavily increased the prices of avocados for Mexico (the largest producer) – where local avocado consumption has reduced considerably due to the lack of affordability. The slow food movement takes its stand about encouraging local consumption in a time when globalisation can cause such dents in the lives and livelihoods of many.
Imports, on the other hand, are how migrant communities bring a little bit of their culture with themselves. As an Indian, I find comfort in the idea that even if I move away from my home, I will probably be able to find Indian supermarkets that hold my beloved masalas, dals, Maggi, dahi, the chakna/farsan that I enjoy snacking on, and more (large Indian diaspora groups around the world have made this possible). I’m sure that other communities would feel the same way about all the food that reminds them of their home and brings them comfort. But this is not the only reason imports occur. Often imports are simply the result of popular global demand for a cuisine: with cheese imports occurring due to French and Italian fine-dining; imports for nori sheets, wasabi, miso, etc due to the increasing popularity of sushi and Japanese cuisine; and owing to Hallyu (the Korean Wave), imports of Korean specialty ingredients like gochujang, doenjang, chunjang, rice cakes (tteok) and even kimchi.
And it is at this point that we reach the fourth point: attempts to replace an imported product with an indigenously created one instead. Many Western countries have enough of an immigrant population that the imports of such ‘specialty’ ingredients are prevalent enough to be somewhat mainstream. When a certain culture’s diaspora is large enough, the diaspora itself begins to provide these things in the form of self-run supermarkets (such as Patel Brothers) and restaurants. When the phrase ‘you will find this at your Asian grocery store’ is used for any such ingredient – it doesn’t apply to a country like India. For this reason, I’ll use India as a much more specific example. In India, the search for specialty ingredients is more difficult. Such ingredients are usually unheard of and exist only online or in the niche of high-end grocery stores and are usually extraordinarily expensive, and a lot of times they are not available at all except in the form of some sort of indigenous replacement. Some companies in India have thus created niches as either being the only provider of a specialty ingredient, or the only affordable provider.
As an example, Indian companies like Urban Platter that have a strong focus on building plant-based versions of popular foods have ventured into things such as selling miso, umeboshi (Japanese pickled plums), vegan fish sauce, gochujang, spice mixes like Chinese five spice, za’atar, cajun – all things that are rare to find outside of this company’s products. Bombucha, a company with a focus on bringing more fermented foods to the Indian market, have launched products like kimchi and sauerkraut – items otherwise unheard of in the Indian market as of now. A small Indian company called Kodai has been making ‘fancy’ cheeses like emmental, gouda, edam, feta and cheddar, but they are made in India and thus are at least a little more easy on one’s pockets than imported cheeses.
The question all of this raises is, if authenticity is attached to a geographical marker (eg, brie from France itself), then can an indigenous replacement outside of that area do justice to the food item? My answer to this is: I have been cooking a lot of Korean food lately but I can still never know what it really tastes like until I eat it in Korea. Yet, the satisfaction I feel in at least being able to attempt Korean cooking makes up for the lack of the ‘absolute authenticity’ that would come from using purely Korean ingredients in my cooking. When I talk about this, I speak from the perspective of someone who sees cooking as a serious hobby. But what about the food industry? What is the food industry doing about this question, and about the general trade-off between authenticity and slow food? How are they ensuring a balance? And how is it different from what someone cooking for fun in their house would do?
Many renowned restaurants that are looking towards innovating their own culinary legacies have gone the direction of slow food. Most notable in this sphere are the restaurants that have literally been the ‘best’ in the world over the past decade – Noma (Copenhagen, Denmark) and Osteria Francescana (Modena, Italy). Noma’s culinary concept, which is a reinvention of Nordic food, comes from the practice of foraging everything that is locally available in and around Copenhagen. Osteria Francescana, too, has a focus on the reinvention of Italian cuisine using the fresh and local produce that is abundant in Modena (a city with a rich culinary history). In India, Masque Restaurant (Mumbai), under the guidance of chef Prateek Sadhu, is following concepts of slow food, local produce and minimal waste in their menus that aim to re-invent Indian cuisine.
With these reinventions of their traditional cuisine, René Redzepi (Noma), Massimo Bottura (Osteria Francescana), Prateek Sadhu, and many others have become role models for slow food – by doing what they are doing, they encourage others to follow in their footsteps. When done in our own home kitchens, the reinventing of a dish or cuisine in this way can end up holding a lot of personal meaning for one. But when it comes to our personal kitchens, preferences vary from individual to individual. Somebody who loves experimenting would enjoy this kind of creation and recreation of things. However, there are those who enjoy the exploration of cultures – for whom authenticity becomes an important factor in preserving a cultural experience. I, for example, care less about experimenting and more about replicating a cuisine – it is something that makes me feel connected with people who are otherwise separated from me by distance, language and more.
I started this article as an advocate for Slow Food, and in many ways I still am. But when it comes to my culinary adventures and experiences, this is not something that is a priority to me. Recreating a culture and cuisine exactly as I found it is. According to a Guardian article, ‘The fact of the matter is that the further away from home our food comes, the less chance we have of interrogating its origins and its impact on its native environment and workforce.’ In the end, the trade-off between slow food and authenticity is a crossroads, and we can see people going in many different directions with their decisions regarding this. At any intersection where slow food and authenticity meet, there are some very real human experiences and thought processes that dictate whether we will innovate, or replicate. It is always about what we are seeking from the food that we want to eat, create and share – and here there is no right or wrong answer.
