Ethnic, International, and Foreign: Authenticity and Appropriation of Global Cuisines in DC Metro Area Grocery Stores
My Armenian-American grandmother brought me to various Armenian food markets during my childhood in the Boston suburbs. Lahmajoun and boereg were special treats that we could only find in one of these specialty shops. I roamed the aisles examining labels written in some combination of Armenian, Arabic, Greek, and Turkish. Going with my grandmother was one of the few times I would hear her speak Armenia, which I would pretend to understand as I would nod in silence. Even so, these were times when I felt wholly Armenian.
Grocery stores have an immense capacity to create cultural spaces for their patrons. My study of grocery stores and their “ethnic food” options in the Washington D.C. area stems from my own experiences growing up. However, shopping at supermarkets has also spurred further questions of what makes certain groceries “ethnic.” Nearly every supermarket, especially chain stores, has an “international aisle” where customers can find various products that are traditionally not American. I use Claude Lévi-Strauss’ theory of structuralism. Structuralism proposes that people think in set binaries that are culturally dictated. Binaries oppose each other and define it’s opposite. My observational study of five grocery stores examines how markets create and perform ethnicity, which produces a binary of ethnic authenticity and appropriation of implicated cultures mediated by the target consumers of the store.
For the purposes of my research, it was necessary to define my terms such as “ethnic,” “international,” and “American.” Because “international aisles” are so often labelled, it is easy to take this definition for granted. However, they do serve a purpose of creating defined spaces in the grocery store. Anything inside the international aisle and on its shelves is automatically not American, thus ethnic. By the same logic, everything in the rest of the store is American. What is particularly interesting about this classification is that a customer could pick up raw ingredients from all over the store and create food sold in the international aisle, but it is exactly how this labelling has become so powerful to the everyday consumer. Putting ethnicity on a shelf immediately commodifies it and makes it something one could buy and sell. The commodification of ethnicity is integral to its understanding in the context of the DC/Metro area study. American is the default, generic, standard that occupies the rest of the store. Being American does not have to be labelled.
Determining authenticity is complicated and contentious. In creating an international aisle, Grocery stores unknowingly navigate this tricky conversation and negotiate what “counts” as authentic ethnic food and what does not. Despite this ambiguity, it was necessary for me to evaluate a grocery store’s determination of what it markets as authentic and ethnic, which I found incredibly difficult. In fact, the word “authentic” itself is problematic in that it assumes there is only a single, true, iteration of a certain culture. For example, “Authentic Indian Food” would only mean one thing; there can be no variation, nor any deviation from a set of strict, hard and fast recipes. Assigning authenticity is a teleological approach to perceiving culture and ignores globalizing processes as well as internal cultural changes. Not only have societies exchanged ideas, concepts, and art across national borders for centuries, but food, too, has been shared and changed through these same processes.
However difficult it is to measure authenticity, it is necessary to do so to some degree when juxtaposed with cultural appropriation. Cultural appropriation is the adoption of certain aspects of one culture by another without honoring or respecting the original culture. It is all too easy for grocery stores to appropriate ethnic food and misrepresent or essentialize the culture of origin in order to make it more American, and therefore widely marketable. Authenticity and appropriation are a binary opposition because they cannot exist together. Because it is almost impossible to determine authenticity based on arbitrary factors in an observational study, those who do not appropriate culture will be considered authentic.
Four of my five stores are in Northwest Washington D.C.; the fifth is located in Arlington, Virginia but was only a short distance outside the city proper. The Foggy Bottom location of Whole Foods acted as a control for my study since it is a busy location of a popular chain supermarket. My second store was the Lebanese Taverna Market in Arlington, Virginia. Lebanese Taverna is a D.C. area restaurant chain but the Arlington location is the only one with a grocery store attached. My third store was the Mediterranean Way in DuPont Circle, a small storefront advertised as a gourmet specialty store. I went to Foggy Bottom Trader Joe’s for my fourth store as another example of a chain supermarket but without an explicit “international aisle.” Finally, I went to Rodman’s, an independent supermarket in the more residential neighborhood Friendship Heights. To conduct the analysis, I mostly examined products themselves, their labels, and placement. I also noted location of the aisle if applicable, decorations (i.e. flags, etc.), and organization of the products. As this was strictly an observational study, I did not conduct any interviews or collect any data on customers or employees.
The chosen stores for my study appear to fall into one of two categories: general supermarket and specialty stores. The Lebanese Taverna Market and the Mediterranean Way are specialty stores whereas Whole Foods, Trader Joe’s and Rodman’s are general supermarkets. Rodman’s does occupy a special liminal space between the two categories as it is not a mainstream chain like Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s, but still has an extremely wide array of products including food, pharmaceuticals, liquor, and even housewares. It is important to note Rodman’s status as being structurally similar to a supermarket but not entirely a part of this category because it greatly affects how it treats ethnic food and imports. Specialty stores cater to a very specific market of consumers. In some ways, this allows for more freedom for the store’s products, but is also very limiting. While they a national headquarters does not dictate what they stock, by labeling themselves as a certain cuisine or specialty, they restrict themselves to a potentially small product selection. Additionally, they are beholden to the whims of the local consumers, which could also potentially be limiting.
These two categories of store do not explicitly dictate the treatment of ethnic food, but it does create two entirely different environments in which ethnicity is produced. They carry implicit expectations which adhere to the authenticity and appropriation binary. Since large supermarkets are stereotypically American, I would expect more appropriation of ethnic food. Since specialty stores brand themselves as selling a niche cuisine, I would expect them to be provide more authentic groceries. Large supermarkets, such as Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s, want to only be authentic enough to still be able to sell large quantities of products to a wide audience. Smaller specialty stores are already working with a smaller consumer base and may not be as concerned with appealing to a mass public. These expectations do not necessarily map onto reality.
Trader Joe’s and Whole Foods presented the most culturally appropriated “ethnic” products. Trader Joe’s uses the store name as the brand on nearly every product (i.e. “Trader Joe’s Vanilla Ice Cream,” there is no Ben & Jerry’s or other name brands). However, on Chinese, Italian, and Mexican themed products, “Trader Joe’s” is replaced by “Trader Ming’s,” “Trader Giotto’s,” and “Trader José’s,” respectively. It’s puzzling at first glance why they do this and why it only applies to these three cuisines. In fact, Trader Joe’s carries other international cuisines and labels them as such (“Indian Chicken Tikka Masala,” “Indian Fare: Jaipur Vegetables”) but continues to use the traditional branding. I propose that the blatant appropriation of Chinese, Italian, and Mexican foods arises from an American sentiment of comfort with these cultures. These three examples are popular cuisines in the U.S. almost universally. They have been heavily “Americanized” for decades. This becomes especially apparent in Whole Foods where Italian food, mostly just pasta and various sauces, has its own aisle separate from the “international” aisle. If Trader Joe’s attempted to rebrand other ethnic cuisines the same way they did with Chinese, Italian, Mexican then they might be criticized for appropriation more openly and publicly. Most consumers perceive Trader Ming’s, Trader José’s, and Trader Giotto’s as clever and witty but not offensive or indicative of appropriation because those cuisines are almost American in their own right. Though my study was observational and I did not interview or include interlocutors, Trader Joe’s markets itself as a truly American grocery experience, based on the common American name similar to the saying “just an average Joe” and the theme of the store being Californian.
The Whole Food’s “international” aisle is mostly made of East Asian, Southeast Asian, and Mexican fare. The Asian and Southeast products are mostly boxed, pre-made, add water, instant dinner meals. Very few of them had a language other than English on the labels. The Mexican shelf had ingredients, but only for stereotypical Mexican dishes that fell in line with the “Trader José” products at Trader Joe’s. This includes tacos, burritos, fajitas, and enchiladas. Most of the brands for all of the International Aisle products were American brands producing “international” foods. Both in the case of Trader Joe’s and Whole Foods, labeling products a certain culture creates a restricted and reductionist view. Thai food is not just Pad Thai in a fake take-out box; Mexican food is not just tacos. Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s stock what they know people will buy, and people buy what they are most familiar with. Of course, this method makes sense in terms of making the largest profit, but it constrains our ideas of ethnicity. Alternatively, Rodman’s, which has the size and breadth of products that other mainstream supermarkets have, avoids this appropriation. Though it does have a defined “international” aisle, marked by flags from around the world on top of the shelves, it does not limit its definition of cultures to one trademark item. Rodman’s carries novelty items and hard to find treats. Additionally, it had the largest range of cultures represented. Despite having a dedicated aisle, imports lined the shelves all over the store, sorted by type of product and not just where it came from. Rodman’s is an independent grocery store in a residential neighborhood in Washington, D.C., which has its fair share of international transplants. Friendship Heights is also fairly close to the Embassy Row and other diplomatic outposts. It’s possible that a combination of these factors contributes to Rodman’s overcoming appropriation that has become standard in large supermarkets.
The Lebanese Taverna Market and Mediterranean Way, despite both being small specialty stores, represent two sides of the binary opposition. It is worth noting that the Lebanese Taverna Market is part of a small chain of restaurants in the Washington D.C.-Metro area but the Arlington location is the only fast casual restaurant with a “market.” Many of the products were imports with predominant labels in Arabic. Interestingly, there was a cookie shelf with British shortbreads and others. As per class discussion, the presence of these was probably a result of British dominance in the region for decades that left a demand for British goods. This is a great example of how authenticity is a complicated label; British cookies are not “authentic” Lebanese food, but through global processes have become a popular treat. Also, the market had mostly ingredients, as opposed to instant or pre-made meals, in the market section, unlike Whole Foods or Trader Joe’s. The market was filled with customers eating at the adjoining café or doing light shopping on the weekend afternoon when I visited. The Mediterranean way, however, was deserted. There were some imported spices and coffees but they were displayed in fake import crates and the prices were prohibitively expensive. Olive oil and balsamic vinegar stations advertised expensive bottles, but they were not specialty brands or imports. The store had very few products all in all, and did not appear to be targeting a niche market for specific cuisines. Rather, they used a vague label of “Mediterranean” to sell a few expensive imports and generic, stereotypical food items, such Greek Spanakopita or Turkish Coffee that one would expect from a supermarket. The Lebanese Taverna Market may not have been a perfect representation of Lebanese market, but it lacked the cultural appropriation presented in the Mediterranean Way.
My research on ethnicity in grocery stores would have been strengthened by participant observation, interviews, and perhaps surveys. Individuals make up ethnic groups, and lacking voices from these groups leaves out what they might think about representation in grocery stores. Specialty stores and supermarkets shape ethnicity, but to what degree is hard to determine without the perspectives of shoppers. Appropriation of cultures has become a rampant problem in large and small stores that simplifies and reduces what it means to be a part of that culture. Though more “authentic” stores might create an inclusive identity, they still control the definition and evaluate what it means to be authentic.