“I’ve never been so disgusted in my life.” Such was one Twitter user’s response to a recent video showcasing the spoils of a British Chinese takeaway order. “British Chinese” was trending on social media as American users analysed and criticised the cuisine, apparently bewildered by the “inauthentic” inclusion of chips or thick curry sauce.
British consumers and producers of Chinese food alike proudly showcased their takeaways in retaliation. Posters on either side of the debate sought to deem their version of Chinese food “authentic” or “traditional”, revealing the powerful connotations of these two words and their connection to culinary identity.
There is no hard definition for what makes food authentic or traditional. Instead, food goes through a process of authentication. A dish once considered novel or adaptive can form a strong identity over time, eventually becoming traditional in its own right.
It’s amazing how migrants have adapted and shaped the British love of thick sauces and no-fuss takeaways to suit their own businesses.
Chinese food is a perfect example of this. It has always been produced in ways that blur both national boundaries and the borders between ethnic cuisines.
