Scrolling through Instagram, I came across an NPR interview with the late White House executive chef Cristeta Comerford. She dropped a gem: “Our chefs may be classically trained, like a good pianist, but in America, we play jazz.” It hit me like a perfect riff. Then Ari Shapiro chimed in with, “It’s less about authenticity and more about improvisation,” and that’s when the lightbulb went off.
That sparked this short piece you’re about to read. Hope you enjoy.
American cuisine? Forget the idea of authenticity. It’s not about guarding some sacred recipe, passed down through generations like a relic. No, American food is the bastard child of improvisation—a glorious, unapologetic fusion of flavors that no one saw coming. It’s a barbecue pit in Texas, born out of necessity, smoke, and cheap cuts of meat, but now worshipped like gospel. It’s a slice of pizza so far removed from its Neapolitan roots, the Italians wouldn’t recognize it—dripping with grease, piled high with toppings, and sold by the slice for a couple of bucks. And yet, it works.
What makes American cuisine fascinating isn’t purity; it’s the art of adaptation. It’s the willingness to take someone else’s idea—maybe it was a French technique, a Caribbean spice, or a Mexican street food staple—and twist it, break it, make it something entirely your own. Jambalaya? A mishmash of French, Spanish, and African flavors, tossed together with whatever ingredients were on hand. Fried chicken? Let’s not even start—the history is murky, but the result is finger-licking gospel.
In America, the rules of the kitchen aren’t just bent—they’re shattered. And that’s the genius of it. You take what’s available, you riff, you experiment. The result? A cuisine that doesn’t have an identity crisis, because it never wanted one. It’s chaotic, sometimes messy, but always bold. It’s food that speaks to survival, creativity, and the spirit of reinvention.
American cuisine is like jazz—an improvisation of flavors, textures, and cultures, mashed together to create something entirely new, something that shouldn’t make sense but somehow does. It’s where a taco truck can live next to a French bistro and no one bats an eye. This is a cuisine that embraces the unexpected, where the best meals come from a diner counter or a food truck, not a Michelin-starred temple of gastronomy.
So if you’re looking for authenticity in American food, you’ve missed the point. The magic lies in the freedom to screw with tradition, to take risks, to improvise. That’s where the soul of American cuisine lives—not in what it was, but in what it’s constantly becoming.
- written by Vladimir J. Costa 2024