Clare Sammells
Miguel Centellas
Maria Bruno
Sara Simon
Chris Exner
Kate McGurn Centellas
Claudine Vallières
Jonathan
Andres Vaughan
Donna YatesI was recently in Boulder, Colorado (USA) and came across the restaurant Aji. The name immediately caught my attention. It was named after the Bolivian spice we miss so much. How could we resist?
The decor was modern, “world culture” hip. A Peruvian textile that could have been purchased on Sagarnaga street, in Cuzco, or at Boulder’s own Art Mart hung from one wall. Miniature devil masks from an artist in Lima (according to the website) lined another. An iconic image of the Mexican Virgin of Guadalupe had a prominent place. Large, artistic photographs of Cubans led to the restrooms, where there was a replica of a pre-Columbian Mayan calendar stone. The take-out menu featured a line drawing of a classic-era Mayan stela.
Our meal began with bread — cornbread with jalapeno butter, and banana bread. To my mind, cornbread (rather than Mexican-style tortillas) evokes Thanksgiving, a holiday only Americans celebrate; banana bread is what middle-class American women (myself included) make with over-ripe bananas, imported from the Caribbean and left too long on kitchen counters.
The “Papas a la Huancaina” involved no peanuts. We were told that one of the chefs brought the recipe back from a short trip to Peru, so perhaps this is a regional difference. Meanwhile, the “Bolivian Aji de Lentejas” — that spicy stew prepared for Todos Santos (Day of the Dead) lacked potatoes, but rather was served over jasmine rice. The “Bolivian salsa” was raw onions and tomatoes sliced on top. We had expected llajwa; while onions and tomatoes were commonly served with some meals, I’ve never seen them on this dish. The “Feijoada Brasileira” (which I should mention I’ve only ever had in Bolivia) was Stew, Deconstructed. Its elements, all dry enough to maintain their shape, were laid out in a neat line on a modern rectangular plate.
In short, this is not a restaurant for reminiscing about my comadre’s amazing cooking. Based on our short conversations with one of the staff, it’s not trying to be that, either. It is about an idea of globalization, where dishes are created from ingredients associated with place, rather than by the methods of cooking used in those places. The staff made no claims to authenticity or local culinary understanding; waiters emphasized fresh food, healthy eating, and taste rather than regional knowledge.
The menu spanned the Caribbean, coastal Peru, highland Bolivia, and Brazil. It wasn’t how I had eaten in some of those places, but nor are my experiences the standard to which others should be held. Latin American cuisine is highly variable by region, class, and individual chefs. Given the changing migrations, trade routes, and travels that have connected regions of the Americas since long before 1492, cuisine will — and should — continue to change. May all those culinary experiments be as tasty as Aji’s!
But I had to wonder about American understandings of Latin American food — that these diverse cuisines can be lumped together, ingredients mixed, preparations ignored, contexts erased. If Aji’s chefs are not trying to be “authentic” (whatever that means), then why name their creations for well-known Latin American dishes? Obviously the appearance of authenticity is important for someone. Is it the chefs? Their investors? The patrons who enthusiastically crowded the restaurant on the weeknight we were there? Not us, certainly.
Filed under: Food and Agriculture, International Connections
I am intrigued by one of your last points. The idea of Latin America is often perceived by Americans as a fairly homogenous location – with “Mexican” often equated with “Latin American.” For instance, a recent episode of the Bravo TV series “Top Chef” was recently devoted to making contestants create “Latin flavored” food. All the dishes seemed to be Mexican or Caribbean inspired, and there was no commentary on what “Latin flavor” is, what it means, what are the hallmarks of Latin cooking, no attempt to discuss the diversity of Latin American cuisine, etc. I think (hope!) that this attitude is changing somewhat, since cooking magazines now routinely feature stories on the “new” haute Peruvian cuisine, for instance, and so marked regional variations are (slowly) getting out into “foodie” American understandings. But I think what’s key here is that the restaurant was trying to hit a certain tone instead of aiming for perhaps even locally recognizable verions – perhaps based on what they thought affluent Americans would respond to (with elements of exoticism and familiarity laced together).
I can understand the disappointment that comes with ordering a Papa a la Huancaina and not getting what you expected, but at least be grateful that the “Bolivian” restaurant doesn’t come with “Bolivian” service. It is the Achille’s heel of the Bolivian food service industry in the U.S.