Why Anglicizing the names of recipes is so harmful
Issue 193: Whiteness as the societal default is reinforced when bibimbap becomes "Korean rice bowls" and parathas become "flaky bread."
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A couple years ago, I was browsing a cookbook from one of those glossy lifestyle magazines and came across a recipe called something like “Poached Eggs in Spiced Tomato Sauce.” It called for sweating onions and garlic, adding spices and marinara sauce (seriously), and then making indentations for freshly cracked eggs. So… why didn’t they just call it what it was — shakshouka?
This kind of anglicization of traditional recipes happens all the time, both online and off. As Bettina Makalintal notes at VICE, avgolemono is rebranded as “egg lemon soup;” bibimbap becomes a “Korean vegetable rice bowl;” South Asian parathas are now just “flaky bread.” And infamously, Alison Roman claimed chana masala as her own creation named “spiced chickpea stew with coconut and turmeric.” This Washington Post recipe, for example, is basically mole poblano… not whatever this word jumble is:
Screengrab from this Washington Post recipe
In a really thoughtful article exploring what’s lost in these whitewashed renamings — and, simultaneously, the constrictions that traditional recipe names can bring — Makalintal writes:
Anglicizing a recipe’s name can be done out of a sense of making it “neutral” and therefore “mainstream,” but as we know from the recent conversations around race in media and other industries, that version of objective neutrality is actually a stance centered on whiteness. The idea that a dish can be rendered culturally neutral still relies on the construction of a culture: one for whom “flaky bread” is assumed as more appealing and recognizable than its alternatives.
Why does this happen? For one, online recipes are competing for attention in an increasingly saturated environment. But perhaps, Makalintal suggests, the argument that food publications have to whitewash to compete for clicks doesn’t really hold up.
The appeasement of translation can seem like a self-fulfilling prophecy: If people aren't given the word “bibimbap,” if it's called a “Korean rice bowl” instead, will the original term ever enter “mainstream” parlance? Food publications have the power to steer the conversation for readers and home cooks; suggesting that a dish’s traditional name is too complicated or unfamiliar to include is a cop-out for platforms that dictate these trends.
She points to Priya Krishna’s recipes as an example of a way forward. Her cookbook, Indian-ish, reveals in its very name that its recipes are meant to be riffs on traditional preparations. And when published online, her recipes have names like “spinach and feta cooked like saag paneer” — honoring the dish’s roots while leaving room for creativity.
Screengrab from the recipe on Epicurious
Makalintal’s essay is absolutely worth a read. And in the vein of food pairings, I recommend reading it alongside Alicia Kennedy’s essay on translation (or the lack thereof) in food media. She writes:
I’ve wondered why translation hasn’t been a component of its media—not even three percent of it. It’s obviously a matter of resources, but it is first and foremost a matter of believing that what is produced in the United States doesn’t need to be accessible around the world and that what is being produced around the world in languages other than English isn’t worth the effort.
