"There
is no American food. When we begin to list American foods, either we
talk about regional things like lobster or shrimp Creole, or we talk
about spaghetti and pizza and hot dogs...One could argue it's what
makes us great. The fact that we don't have a cuisine is a measure
of our democracy and of our ethnic heterogeneity."
-- Sidney Mintz, Anthropologist
The United States is a land of delicious
eating from coast to coast and neighborhood to neighborhood.
But its cultural and culinary mix makes it impossible to
characterize in a single byte or even a string of them.
The two concepts essential to understanding US food are
regionalism and diversity, accent on the latter. After all,
Italian food differs from province to province and city to
city as well. But key themes run through Italy's food from
south to north simply because its people have such strong
roots in the Italian soil. Not so with the US. A nation of
newcomers, its food reflects its origins.
But first to credit the unsung and the unwilling. Long
before Europeans set foot on American soil, vibrant and
healthy civilizations nurtured themselves off the bounty of
the land. They taught the settlers to plant the holy trinity
of Native American cuisine -- corn, beans and squash. The
settlers returned the favor by nearly exterminating their
benefactors, but those three foods played a vital role in
defining American cuisine. They retain their importance today
across the continent -- grits, cornbread and hoppin' john in
the South, tortillas and pinto beans in the Southwest, baked
beans and succotash in the Northeast and pumpkin pie just
about everywhere for Thanksgiving.
Some of the strongest influences on US cuisine came from
African slaves, the people who least intended to be here.
American food is inconceivable without barbecue in its many
variations, all kinds of fritters and a mess of greens. Indeed
Africans brought with them important techniques including
smoking meats, frying grains and legumes into fritters,
boiling leafy green vegetables, and making up hot, spicy
sauces. Since African-Americans ran the kitchens on Southern
plantations, they played a major role in molding the renowned
cuisine of the South. Years later when railroads began to
cross the continent, Black men ran the galleys and carried
that influence north and west.
Regional cuisines emerged as settlers -- willing and
otherwise -- modified their culinary traditions to suit local
climates. The simple, sturdy foods of the Northeast reflect
more than any other the English origins of the country. But
meats and vegetables imported from the homeland merged with
local ingredients such as turkey, maple syrup, lobster, clams,
cranberries and always corn to provide delicious specialties
such as Indian pudding, Boston brown bread, clam chowder and
Maine boiled lobster.
Southern settlers, also of English stock, confronted a
kinder climate and more of them benefited from the assistance
of Black hands in the kitchen. The average farmer's wife could
hardly spare the time needed for the multiple dishes that made
up a plantation meal. To this day no Southern dinner is
complete without numerous side dishes including breads,
biscuits, salads and condiments -- preferably home made.
Of all Southern dishes, fried chicken achieved the most
popularity outside the region -- to the extent that entire
fast food chains have sprung up serving debased versions. At
home, Southerners continue to use a great deal of pork. Hams
from Virginia are universally recognized to be the country's
finest. Bacon and salt pork appear as flavoring agents with
greens and beans. Ham biscuits are a classic accompaniment to
breakfast and dinner and ham with red-eye gravy is a regional
piÈce de rÈsistance, though the debate swirls on as to
whether the best red-eye is made with water or black coffee.
North of the Deep South, the geography of the coastal
Carolinas proved conducive to rice growing and produced a
rice-based cuisine. Specialties such as Hoppin' John -- cooked
rice and black-eyed peas flavored with salt pork -- and
Charleston Red Rice are just two of many local rice dishes.
Seafood specialties include the famous Charleston She-Crab
Soup. The Carolina version of barbecue uses a stiff dose of
vinegar in its sauce which places locals strongly at odds with
Texas and Kansas City folks who prefer a much sweeter sauce.
And then there is Southern Louisiana, a single portion of a
single state that has given rise to two major cuisines.
Outsiders easily confuse Creole and Cajun cooking and with
good reason. Both reflect French influences and both styles
frequently begin their dishes with a roux -- butter or oil
with flour cooked to anywhere from light gold to rich brown
depending on the dish. Both use rice and the area's abundant
seafood. They are often highly spiced and borrow culinary
concepts from one another.
But Creole cooking is city food and grows out of the
region's earliest colonial history. The French first settled
the area and jostled with Spain for control long before the
Louisiana Purchase. The overseas French mingled their own
cuisine with local ingredients and were strongly influenced by
Spanish, African and Caribbean food. The result is refined,
subtly seasoned and served in multiple courses.
On the other hand, Cajun cuisine is the food of country
folk. The French inhabitants of Nova Scotia were expelled by
the British in 1755. After years of wandering, they settled in
the swamps of Southern Louisiana where they learned to rely on
available ingredients such as game, shrimp, and crawfish.
Cajun food is often cooked all in one pot, using relatively
few herbs but served with plenty of hot sauce. The subtleties
of Cajun food come from patient, long simmering of carefully
chosen ingredients. Specialties include crawfish etouffÈe
(smothered with sauce), gumbos -- soupy stews -- and rice
dishes like jambalayas.
Southwest cuisine may well qualify as the oldest US
regional style. Prior to 1845 when the Spanish began to
relinquish control, the entire area was part of Mexico. Not
surprisingly, its contemporary cuisine bears a strong family
resemblance to Mexican food. It still draws heavily on native
foodstuffs, in particular corn, beans and chilies. The word
"chili" is Aztec in origin as are
"guacamole" and "tomato." This is a
cuisine with serious roots.
Corn tortillas remain the essential Southwestern
breadstuff. Pinto beans stewed or refried are a key source of
protein. Tamales are festive food on both sides of the border.
Salsas made of tomatoes, tomatillos and chilies liven up all
manner of dishes.
Pork and beef are Spanish introductions redefined to suit
the local palate. New Mexico's carne adovado consists of pork
stewed in a sauce made up almost entirely of dried red
peppers. In Texas, beef has mixed with pinto beans to become
chili con carne. In Southern Arizona, wheat tortillas are
often preferred over corn, and you might be surprised to find
them lying flat under a pile of meat, beans, cheese and sauce
rather than rolled when you order a plate of enchiladas.
Standing up to the personalities of the Southwest and
Louisiana can be a tall order and foods of other regions
sometimes seem a bit ho-hum by comparison. But the continued
imprint of immigration makes for delicious eating nationwide.
For example, Germans moving into the Midwest helped make
Milwaukee the nation's beer capital. Their insatiable love of
sausages left a permanent imprint on the nation's tastes.
After all, what's a ball game without a hot dog?
But perhaps no ethnic group has exercised as much influence
on American eating as the Italians who began arriving in
earnest in the late nineteenth century. Not surprisingly,
Southern Italian food was the first to affect US cooking. This
mirrors the fact that people from the poorer south emigrated
earliest and in greatest numbers.
By the beginning of World War II, selected Italian dishes
had become as American as apple pie. The first to enter the US
lexicon was spaghetti with tomato sauce followed soon after by
all manner of pastas. Pizza took off after World War II and
Chicago became the center for a deep-dish double-crusted style
that has since spread nationwide as "Chicago pizza."
Meanwhile housewives picked up helpful tips on how to cook
osso bucco and other dishes from Italian butchers right at the
market, and Italian farmers helped popularize such vegetables
as artichokes and eggplant. Campbell canned minestrone and no
one remembers anymore that Oscar Meyer's baloney had its
origins as bologna in the Italian delis across the country.
It took awhile to learn that not all pasta sauce is red,
but by the seventies, pesto was ultra-chic. Americans today
are still discovering the wonders of regional Italian cuisine
and will probably be doing so for some time.
Immigration continues to broaden the spectrum of American
cuisine. While officials huff and puff over tightening the
border with Mexico, citizens flock to Mexican eateries,
inhaling tacos, quesadillas, chili verde, and chilies rellenos.
Going out for a burrito has become as much a part of the
American experience as grabbing a quick burger.
Chinese food arrived with the first laborers brought over
to build the railroads. Confined to the Chinese community
which was legally kept from mingling with the broader
population, it overflowed the borders of Chinatowns to become
part of the American eating experience.
The earliest immigrants, largely from Canton, brought with
them a taste for what many aficionados believe is the most
delicate and refined of Chinese cuisines. The mix of more
recent arrivals insures that every city of medium size offers
cooking from Szechwan, Hunan, and beyond. Chinese food is now
inseparably lodged in the American smorgasborg. Not everyone
has access to great Chinese food, but all have access to some.
The seventies and eighties brought an influx of Southeast
Asians in the wake of the Vietnam war. Thai food with its
balance of sweet, sour, salt and spice buffered by the
richness of coconut milk suddenly became the hottest item on
the culinary landscape. Some predict Vietnamese cuisine will
be next to take off. Southeast Asian food is now an important
part of the US culinary scene and promises to grow.
Not surprisingly California, packed to the gills with
immigrants and produce basket to the nation, has given rise to
its own cuisine. But just what is California cuisine? Good
question.
Historically, California cuisine was a reaction against
attempts to reproduce European culinary traditions at all
costs and at all times of the year, even if it meant importing
ingredients over long distances. Even more offensive was the
increase in processed foods. California cuisine -- no longer
limited to California -- means using only what's in season and
perfectly fresh.
"Big deal," say the cooks of Italy and France,
who have been cooking with the seasons for centuries.
But the secret is California's population and produce. Side
by side with artichokes, fava beans and haricots, California's
fields burst with bok choy, Chinese broccoli, lemon grass,
Thai basil and Vietnamese mint. Summer brings heirloom
tomatoes and tomatillos, avocados and Asian pears, infinite
varieties of peppers. Nothing but the freshest ingredients
means you can still recreate much of the world's food.
All of which gives rise to fusion cuisine, the newest and
sometimes strangest phenomenon on the US table. The notion
behind fusion is to take ingredients from more than one
cuisine, mix them together and create something new. Needless
to say, the consequences can be exquisite or disastrous. Some
of the finest fusion can be found in Seattle, where the accent
is on mingling Asian flavors with classical European cooking
styles, and in South Florida where the flavors come from the
Caribbean, South America and Cajun country.
The finest of fusion chefs warn against muddying flavors
beyond recognition by using too many at once, but
"wrap" places, the latest thing in fast food, are
springing up like mushrooms. Here you can find
"Thai" spiced chicken wrapped in green tortillas and
"Chinese" pork done up in red. So far the public is
buying. The concept has made its way onto the grocery shelf
and into the freezer case where dried, canned and frozen foods
labeled "Szechwan," "Thai,"
"Caribbean" and "Tuscan" crowd the shelves
although they bear little resemblance to the real thing.
American cuisine has come a long way since the early days
of corn, beans and squash and along the way it has spawned
some eminently forgettable food. Nonetheless the US remains a
great place for great eating. Delicious regional styles remain
and the new blood of immigrants sparks the imagination of the
finest chefs while making for great inexpensive food in the
cities. As Dr. Mintz said, "The fact that we don't have a
cuisine is a measure of our democracy and of our ethnic
heterogeneity ... One could argue it's what makes us
great."
So come and get it.
Nancy
Freeman
is a San
Francisco-based freelance writer whose food stories have
appeared in the San Francisco Magazine, The Contra Costa
Times, Filipinas and Morsels, a publication of the American
Institute of Wine and Food. |