Introduction to the Series: Orange Chicken is Authentic
As a sophomore in college, I took a class titled “Asian Food and Drink”. A 400 level course brought to us by Dr. Miranda Brown, PhD, one of the highly rated professors and faculty advisors in the department of Asian Languages and Culture. At this point, I had committed myself to pursuing Asian Studies as my second major. I was looking for some escapism from the ‘pre-med’ courses like the universally dreaded organic chemistry or, at least at our university (Go blue), the challenging ‘P-Chem"‘.
My buddies of course had to belittle it. After all, when courses like “underwater basket weaving” exist adjacent to Java/Python 358 or advanced cyber security and machine learning 405, it’s not difficult for one to think you’re ‘wasting’ your time and tuition. It’s a STEM vs. humanities debate that I will not jump into, but I will say, this course stayed with me a lot more than my organic chemistry did.
The thesis behind this course was to respond to a growing attitude - rather resentment - towards Orange Chicken. Yes, the beloved Panda Express, Cheesecake Factory, P.F. Chang’s most popular dish came under the barrel of controversy. It wasn’t authentic. And that makes it criminal.
I’m not sure why Dr. Brown chose this hill to die on. I’m not sure why she devoted her time to doing the research, gathering the lessons and materials, and giving her students a 6 month long lecture series defending orange chicken, but I get it. It’s just that dang good. And I would gladly ride into battle with her over it.
Let’s hear her out for a minute. Her point is that no food is authentic. Gasp*! I know. It’s blasphemy in the ears of those who went all the way to Rome to try authentic pizza and ravioli from Italy. But is ravioli Italian? How do you define what “ravioli” is?
“It’s a filling incased in dough.”
“Sounds a lot like pierogis to me.”
“So the Polish invented ravioli and the Italians stole it!”
“Well that definition also sounds like dumplings to me too.”
And therein lies her point. Historians believe that pierogis came to Europe from the silk road. Influenced and shaped by the asian dumpling that gradually made its way to Europe over years of trade, interactions, and sharing. So next time you gobble up a plate of pierogis, I want you to stop and think about how it was appropriated by selfish, greedy, unoriginal Europeans. Just kidding, that’s not the point either.
Nothing is authentic. It’s not appropriation, it’s adaptation. Every food came from somewhere, shared by different people. And, to her, that’s what made food beautiful. It brought people of different cultures and ideologies together. Persians sat down with Indians and shared plates. They each brought them back and adapted them to their own palates, and overtime they became a proud identity of who they are today. But the argument of “that’s not authentic, don’t eat it” undermines this ‘breaking of bread’ history. A negative feeling towards foods that aren’t deemed authentic and thus have become vilified is what she wanted to destroy in her crusade; so that she could bring back an attitude of cooperation and camaraderie that food has done for millennia. That, and she wanted to enjoy her orange chicken in peace.
Her lessons taught me a new appreciation for food. It taught me to appreciate where these beloved dishes came from. It pushed me to think and uncover the rich history of how these cuisines were adapted from one location to another. And I have used these sentiments more in my life than organic chemistry.
The goal of this blog series is simple. I want to share with you why I enjoy food. I will write about the rich history of the foods I’ve encountered, like Pasties de nata from Portugal and their uncanny resemblance to the Chinese egg tart. I will feature dishes that have become an identity to its people. And I will share with you the inspiration behind things I’ve made for myself and others to enjoy.
So next time you have your bowl of orange chicken from Panda Express… you CAN have your orange chicken and enjoy it too.