Spice, Samosas, and Sentimental Bites
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In Buettner’s text, he explains how British taste for Indian food can be seen as a way to engage with cultural diversity and express colonial nostalgia. British interactions and relationships with South Asian food, specifically through popular dishes like chicken tikka masala, really highlight British selective multiculturalism, meaning how Indian food is enjoyed but by their own means, not through the people or broader culture behind it. This practice shows what some critics call "boutique multiculturalism," where British identity accommodates diverse cuisines but often excludes genuine cultural exchange.
Masculinity and colonial nostalgia cross paths in this “going for an Indian” ritual, where British men, particularly in the 1960s and 70s, showed off their toughness by eating spicy foods, specifically Indian food. This demonstrates the power dynamics and the assumptions of colonial superiority even within food practices. Ordering the spiciest curry or "taking the piss out of the waiter," served as a way to reaffirm their superiority of colonial masculinity and British dominance over their “weak” opposition. This again shows how the British engage with otherness without embracing it wholly.
Both Buettner and Mannur talk about authenticity in food and how it represents both a link to cultural roots. Food is essential in diaspora histories because it represents memory, identity, and community. For Mannur, authenticity in diaspora is shaped by nostalgia, a longing often inflated by memory. Food often becomes a powerful anchor for diasporic communities as they recreate dishes from back home, not just for flavour but to maintain a connection to their identity and satisfy the memory. It's a way to "taste" the homeland even when geographically distant. If they can make it just how the people before them did back home, that serves as proof of an existing link. This attachment can sometimes be melancholic, reflecting mourning of their homeland and an idealization of what is remembered rather than what truly was. Food becomes a vessel for the memories of family traditions and nostalgic longing.
Culinary fusion offers both opportunity and challenge. On one hand, it creates innovative experiences and new cultural intersections to link cultures together in an enjoyable way. But fusion risks diluting authentic flavours, which could reduce a cuisine to stereotypes. Buettner explains how British takes on Indian food, like chicken tikka masala, strongly represent both assimilation and appropriation, simplifying complex dishes and traditions that carry much more than the eye can see into something palatable for broader appeal.
Reflecting on my own experiences, I come from a family of foodies. I see how food has always played a vital role. My mom is more of a free eater who likes to enjoy every meal and doesn't find the point in restricting yourself especially when it comes to food so whatever my brothers and I craved we usually got. My dad on the other hand is a savourer. He takes his food seriously. The food he loves like specific desserts from back home, he always says that this is a once-in-a-year type of meal or sal min ek bar khane wala khana. Back in Pakistan, food is truly a bonding tool. I always loved hearing stories my mom, mamo and khala would share about their nanny, Khulsoom, and the food she would make like aloo paratha or masala fries. I would truly see light in their eyes and genuity behind their laughs when they shared. They were convinced that she was out to get them fat so they wouldn't find someone to marry so she could take care of them forever. In Pakistan, dinner is taken very seriously, it is one time in the day when everyone comes together no matter what, where we reconvene and share stories about our day, so my Nani spends all day worrying about what to get made. My family has taught me that cherishing food is very important as it holds strong bonds and memories, and because of that, I know food is the sole way to my heart.