little500 wrote:So, David, how would you identify "authentic" chili? There are so many variations to even the basic ingredients. Beans or no beans? Tomatoes? Chili-grind beef or diced chuck? Maybe all these variations are authentic.
I like most chili preparations, but save me from any using chicken, turkey, tofu, twelve kinds of hot sauce, sausage, etc. Is that because they aren"t "authentic"?
History tells us chile was invented by chuckwagon cooks as a means to use nearly-spoiled beef, and furthers the story with the introduction of the Texas Chile Queens. But that story doesn't include chili in a can, consisting of beans, bean paste, tomato paste, low quality beef, chili powder. The ingredients are at least close to authentic, but it sure doesn't taste like it!
It's an interesting question. Where does authenticity stop?
For the record, I'm not a fan of huitlacoche or corn foam. But at least the corn smut is indigenous to Mexican cuisine.
This is a discussion I've wanted to have for a long time. Pinning down the "authentic" features of a dish is a huge challenge – it’s a frickin’ epistemological nightmare – because “facts” are in some ways a matter of consensus and “facts all come with a point of view.” With some questions of authenticity like “What is an authentic Chicago hot dog?” or “What is an authentic deep dish pizza?” the answers seem pretty easy because these are relatively recent and fairly well documented culinary developments and there’s general consensus about what defines the paradigm.
With chili, it’s way harder because the genesis of the dish is less certain, and there’s loads of regional variation (as there cannot be, for instance, with a CHICAGO hot dog). This issue is clouded by militant proponents of specific ingredient mixes, specifically those who like the beans and those who don’t. Me, I like beans, which I suspect may have been an original part of the mix (because beans are cheap, and chili is a feed-the-masses meal), but that’s not why I like beans in my chili. I like them because they offer variation in each spoonful, and I will like them whether or not they’re authentic.
Authentic does not equal good. Lard and sugar on bread is authentic Depression food – I’m going to hold off on eating that particular menu item until I have to.
That said, I think people who dismiss a dish because “it isn’t authentic” may be missing the point if the innovation makes a better tasting thing.
Nonetheless, I love eating what seems to be the traditional, canonical version of a dish; the weight of history is behind it, and when you eat it, you feel like you’re connecting with the culture and the people who gave birth to the food, out of necessity, because of available resources, because of some historical imperative. Now, that doesn’t mean I’m going to love the taste, but I love tasting it.
Not sure what you mean by “where does authenticity stop,” because the issue of authenticity is more about where foods start.
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