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identity | peter schol l iers and anneke geyzen

Upgrading the Local

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Belgian Cuisine in Global Waves

Belgium has an excellent culinary reputation. Some even claim that this small country is “Europe’s best kept culinary secret.”1 The cuisine is characterized by a combination of hearty German plates, refined French dishes, and many typically Belgian ingredients and cooking methods, such as Belgian endives and preparations with beer. Belgium’s culinary secrets can easily be discovered in many restaurants in Antwerp, Ghent, Liège, and, especially, Brussels.

Above: Spring 2008 menu from the restaurant Van Dyck, rue des Bouchers, Brussels. photograph by peter scholliers

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A look at the outdoor menu of one such Brussels restaurant (above) is instructive. Patrons are lured by Belgian specials including Flemish beef stew (simmered for hours in Gueuze, a sour beer produced by spontaneous fermentation); rabbit in Kriek (Gueuze with cherries); waterzooi, a soup-like

gastronomica: the journal of food and culture , vol.10, no.2, pp.49–54, issn 1529-3262. © 2010 by the regents of the university of california. all rights reserved. please direct all requests for permission to photocopy or reproduce article content through the university of california press ’ s rights and permissions web site, http://www.ucpressjournals.com/reprintinfo.asp. doi: 10.1525/gfc.2010.10.2.49.

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dish of vegetables with lobster or chicken (the name literally means “stew-in-water”); potato salad with bacon and beans; sole in butter; and beef with cherries. Another Brussels restaurant recommends other plats belges typiques: meatballs in tomato sauce, sauerkraut à la Bruxelloise, and stoemp (potatoes mashed with a vegetable) served with country sausage. Such dishes are widespread, appearing in both popular and fancy restaurants offering more sophisticated versions. This contemporary emphasis on Belgian dishes is striking, all the more so because between 1950 and 1990 hardly any plats belges typiques or spécialités belges were presented. So, where did these dishes come from?

Identity Construction Before addressing this question we must take a brief excursion into the relationship between food and collective sentiments.2 Some social researchers claim that food is utterly central to who we are, to our identity. “Who,” here, does not refer to the individual but to a community that

Above: This menu for an international meeting of the hotel and restaurant trade is full of nationalist rhetoric. From Le Grand Hôtel, Brussels, 1926. courtesy of peter scholliers

may be small (the household), large (a neighborhood), or immense (a nation). French sociologist Claude Fischler uses three concepts to explore this idea further: the omnivore paradox, the principle of incorporation, and the culinary order.3 The omnivore paradox refers to the fact that humans may eat very diversely and need to do so for physiological reasons, but because they are afraid of change they hesitate when confronted with new foods. This phenomenon is crucial, according to Fischler, because an individual’s customary food choices allow for incorporation into a community even as they exclude the Other (Fischler’s second concept). Fischler’s third concept, of the culinary order, offers a solution to the problem of the omnivore paradox and incorporation into a community: it refers to the classification of food into categories (nonedible, healthy, festive, etc.) as well as to the way it is prepared—

The Hungarian example emphasizes the need for reciprocal identity construction (with both “us” and “them” recognizing food as typifying a nation) and for a dish that goes beyond social and regional borders to unite all people. Did Belgium go through a similar process of identity construction? To understand our question fully, the reader should know that the Kingdom of Belgium emerged only in 1830; it had no prior shared history. Until 1830 the territory had been part of the Spanish Empire (1579–1713), the Austrian Empire (1713–1794), France (1795–1814), and the United Kingdom of the Netherlands (1815–1830). In addition, local rulers had governed various bits and pieces of land, which meant that the young nation retained strong local feelings. Moreover, in 1830 Belgium had few common features that could promote unity: in the North, Flemish was spoken, but in the South French was the language; agriculture predominated in the North, while the Industrial Revolution transformed large parts of the South. After unification, common ground was sought in the monarchy, the Catholic Church, ideology (art, history, and politics celebrating Belgium), and, especially, in the movement for independence from the Netherlands and France. Might food also have been used to create a Belgian national identity?

National Reactions (1900–1940) Three decades later, at the 1910 Brussels World Fair, Belgian food was presented as tasty, out of the ordinary, and worthy of haute cuisine. A French journalist writing for the Parisian newspaper Le Figaro Illustré described the exhibition, emphasizing Belgium’s excellent cuisine and the outstanding reputation of the Bruxellois as gourmets.6 True, such observations could have been read earlier; however, in this case the writer referred only to Belgian specialties and did not even mention French cuisine. His article was a tribute to regional cuisines, praising such dishes as rabbit with prunes, beef stewed in beer, and waterzooi, all of which he labeled “Belgian.” These dishes had been typical among

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The First Wave: France’s Hegemony (1800–1900)

Although we examined numerous sources, we were unable to find any national dish that might have united all nineteenth-century Belgians. Naturally, local ingredients (such as Brussels sprouts) and local preparations (like beef stewed in beer) were used, though not to build nationalist sentiment. Keeping the Hungarian example in mind, we wondered whether Belgian elites might similarly have tried to create a national dish, but there is absolutely no evidence of it. The Belgian aristocracy was unconditionally oriented toward the fancy French cuisine that arose in Parisian restaurants and maisons bourgeoises around 1800, with which the name of the chef Marie-Antoine Carême (1784–1833) is associated. Brussels restaurants copied Parisian foodways to the letter. French chefs settled in Belgian towns, Belgians took up apprenticeships in France, and Belgian cooks imitated French haute cuisine. By 1870 travelers’ guides were waxing enthusiastic about Belgian restaurants, stressing that one could eat as well in Belgium as in the better Parisian restaurants, while paying much less.5 Thus, rather than forging bonds among all Belgians, the Belgian elite aspired to be part of the international rich and famous. In 1880 Belgium commemorated its fiftieth anniversary by organizing an international exhibition in Brussels. This event was a perfect occasion to promote Belgian food to an international audience, but hardly anything was done. The exhibition guide recommended the Taverne des Brasseries and the Boulangerie Nationale for beer and pastry, respectively. An advertisement appeared for Restaurant du Lac, serving French cuisine, and Restaurant Italien, owned by a Belgian. Were beer and pastry sufficient to create a Belgian identity? We doubt it. Around 1880 Belgian beer may have had a passable reputation, but it could hardly compete with English and especially German beer, while pastry simply imitated classical French pâtisserie.

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in other words, to the cuisine. These three stages lead to the construction of communities based on food rather than on, for example, religion or language, which is why Germans are referred to as “Krauts” and Frenchmen as “Frogs,” indicating their allegedly typical national foods. Note that these two examples refer to labels bestowed by the Other, which touches upon a complementary feature of the relationship between food and identity construction— namely, that identity construction necessarily operates via both the Self and the Other. An interesting example of this relationship is provided by the Hungarian dish goulash.4 In the 1780s, in an attempt to inflame nationalist sentiment for independence from the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the Hungarian elite deliberately chose a peasant beef stew with paprika (a cheap substitute for real pepper) as the country’s “national dish.” Two intriguing developments occurred. First, the peasants of the Hungarian steppe readily adopted this dish and its name; second, the Austrian elite also adopted this novelty, making goulash a fashionable dish in Vienna. Only then did the dish gain wider significance, although it took nearly a century before the world learned about goulash and its Hungarian connection.

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the Belgian petite bourgeoisie for quite some time already, but now, for the first time, these regional specialties were presented as national symbols. And so a discrete national cuisine with no connection to the French was identified. Beginning in the 1900s, and increasingly in the 1920s and 1930s, Belgian regional ingredients and foodways made their way into Belgian haute cuisine and began to be disseminated abroad. Thus one finds menus noting that the oysters come from Ostend, the asparagus from Malines, and the rooster from Brussels; many dishes were prepared à la mode de chez nous or à la flamande. This “national turn” in fancy Belgian cuisine also appeared in restaurants advertising bourgeois cuisine à la Bruxelloise, as well as in travelers’ guides. The height of Belgitude in haute cuisine occurred in the women’s magazine La cuisine et la femme in 1935. The French author, Paul Bouillard, owner of the elegant restaurant Au Filet de Sole in Brussels, wrote: “Carbonnade flamande, one of the most popular specialties because it belongs to ‘low-cost gastronomy,’ is a true national dish.”7 Prior to 1914, no dish would have been identified as such. Several reasons explain this shift. Under the influence of the great chef Auguste Escoffier (1846–1935) French haute cuisine was codified and reinvigorated, and work in the kitchen was completely reorganized. A more natural taste was appreciated, and food was plated before it left the kitchen, in the Russian style. These innovations were labeled “nouvelle cuisine.” Along with them came the discovery of regional foodways. Of course, local specialties had always been part of French haute cuisine, even if rarely acknowledged. But Escoffier celebrated them. Along with foods from Provence, Brittany, Burgundy, and elsewhere, Belgian, especially Brussels cuisine, became part of the larger French canon. In 1938 the famous Larousse gastronomique consecrated the position of Belgian cuisine within French haute cuisine: “One of Belgium’s national dishes most appreciated by the French and the Flemings is waterzooi with chicken prepared in the manner of Ghent.”8 Other reasons for this development are to be found within Belgium itself. As the bourgeoisie grew in social significance, they sought to adopt elements of so-called high culture even as they created their own. Fancy food and Belgian national sentiments were part of this process. Anthropologist Arjun Appadurai has noted that the middle classes play a crucial role in creating a national cuisine through the diffusion of “national dishes” via cookbooks and women’s magazines.9 According to Appadurai, the promotion of a single dish, ingredient, or method of preparation as “national” may be sufficient to create a national cuisine. That is precisely what happened in Belgium in

the 1920s. Bourgeois families not only read about the upgrading of Belgian cuisine, they were also able to taste this cuisine in many restaurants, at various price ranges. World War i also contributed to the upsurge in Belgian food. During the German occupation, which lasted for over fifty months, most Belgians suffered from starvation. International aid campaigns put Belgium on the map, while German atrocities led to unparalleled nationalist sentiments. A tendency to favor all things Belgian was evident on several different levels of cultural life, including cuisine. In the postwar years thousands of foreigners and locals wanted to taste real Belgian food, in this way claiming solidarity with the violated nation.

The Second Wave: Globalization (1960–1980s) Around 1970 Paul Bocuse and other French chefs launched a new nouvelle cuisine that was lighter and more sophisticated than the haute cuisine of the 1960s, which had been characterized by rich sauces and extensive preparatory work. After Carême and Escoffier, Bocuse represented a third international wave of haute cuisine, and his style reinforced French culinary hegemony for the next thirty years. In fact, his innovations restored some of Escoffier’s basic precepts regarding taste, freshness, and simplicity. New was the meticulous way in which food was presented on the plate, and the moderate use of exotic ingredients like cilantro. The nouvelle cuisine of the 1970s coincided with great interest in foreign foods. European chefs traveled the world and were particularly enthusiastic about Asian foodways. However, exotic, or ethnic, cuisines appeared in Europe via other routes, too. Ethnic restaurants had existed in larger European towns since the nineteenth century, but after 1950 foreign restaurants multiplied quickly. Tourist guides to Brussels, for example, mention 19 percent non-Belgian restaurants in the 1960s, 28 percent in the 1980s, and 39 percent in 1995.10 In Belgium, Italian and other European restaurants (Greek, Spanish, Hungarian, Portuguese) were the first to be established, but they were inexpensive and not very refined. In the 1970s Asian restaurants burgeoned (especially Chinese, but also Southeast Asian and Japanese), including some that were considered highly sophisticated and expensive. Exotic influences also appeared in the socalled fusion cuisine served in Belgian restaurants, leading to menus composed of such dishes as North Sea shrimp croquettes, tagine of lamb, and tiramisu. Home cooks also began to mix ethnic elements into their food. Belgian cookbooks from the 1970s testify to this seeming internationalization of domestic cooking and

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t ab l e 1 . a nnu a l pe r c a pita potato con sumpti on i n belg i um, i n ki l o s

Local Responses (1980s–The Present) The internationalization of Belgian cuisine (and of European cuisine in general) had many causes: rising purchasing power, the expansion of tourism, the ever-growing diversity of foreign foods, the desire for novelty, and culinary discourses oriented toward the Other. However, these rapid changes caused some feelings of uncertainty and doubt. Furthermore, food adulteration and animal disease led to intense food scares. Consequently, many people returned to their familiar, local cuisine.

This regional turn was noticeable in several cookbooks and women’s magazines from the 1970s on, even as foreign foods were being embraced. The 1985 edition of Ons Kookboek provides a striking example. A separate chapter on regional cuisines containing recipes from the Flemish provinces is notably different from the 1972 edition’s emphasis on ethnic recipes. It is also relevant that LouisPaul Boon, a leading Flemish novelist, published Eten op zijn Vlaams (“Flemish Eating”), a book of local recipes, in 1972. Numerous cookbooks appeared in the 1970s and 1980s with titles carrying the words “Flemish,” “Walloon,” and “Regional,” as well as “Authentic” and “Traditional.”14 Women’s magazines picked up on the local craze. In 1983, for example, the Women Farmers’ Association published a series of articles on regional gastronomy in Flanders, with each piece exploring one Flemish province and its cuisine. It must be pointed out that in privileging local ingredients and foodways, the articles revealed strong chauvinistic feelings.15 In 1981 a specialized association, the Academy of Regional Gastronomy, began researching and gathering authentic recipes, and in the 1970s and 1980s several cooking competitions were held, which emphasized the use of typical regional ingredients.16 This interest in the local is, of course, not specific to Flanders, Wallonia, or Brussels but may be found throughout Europe, especially in Italy (the Slow Food Movement) and France (le terroir). The development of tourism also gave a serious boost to regional cuisines. Tourists love to taste local specialties, which by now are extensively covered in travelers’ guides. Yet, Belgium’s interest in culinary

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eating. Ons Kookboek (“Our Cookbook”), for example, first published in 1927 and considered “a household necessity in Flanders,”11 dedicated an entire section to exotic dishes in its 1972 edition. The 1999 edition expanded on this approach by publishing a plentiful selection of recipes from all over the world.12 Women’s magazines also picked up on the trend and began publishing exotic recipes regularly. From the 1970s on the monthly publication of the Women Farmers’ Association took its readers on culinary journeys to Italy, Greece, Spain, and elsewhere, offering recipes for foreign dishes. Asian foodways were also presented, with several articles on the art of using a wok at home.13 This ethnic trend was further supported by supermarkets, which began to sell an increasingly diverse selection of ingredients. As in the restaurants, this change came in two waves: in the 1960s, simple Italian and European ingredients were sold (pasta became incredibly popular); in the 1990s affordable foodstuffs from all over the world appeared in shops.

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From faostat’s online database at http://faostat.fao.org/site/609/DesktopDefault.aspx?PageID=609#ancor

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conservatism goes beyond food to touch upon the local political ambitions of Flemings, Bruxellois, and Walloons. To understand this properly, we must recall Belgian history. When the nation was formed in 1830, the Belgians had no common culture, leading to constant competition about whose culture was “best.” Ongoing political battles characterized by strong separatist feelings added to the rivalry. Flemings have long felt suppressed by the French-speaking population; the self-confidence they gained during the booming economy of the 1960s was expressed via a renewed, and strong, interest in regionalism, including the embrace of local foodways. Did this interest go beyond the discourse of cookbooks and tourists’ curiosity about local restaurants? Potato consumption may, perhaps, serve as a reliable indicator of Belgian daily cuisine. Since around 1800 potatoes have been at the core of the hot meal in Belgium; for some, pommes frites are the national symbol. So, to look at potato consumption is to consider true Belgian food habits. The graph on page 53 shows per capita potato consumption since 1961. Four stages are visible: rapid decline in the 1960s up to 1975; a long period of stagnation up to 1999; another rapid decline for a couple of years; and then, again, a period of stagnation since 2003. Assuming that potato consumption is indeed an indicator of conservative eating, it appears that Belgians were extremely oriented toward innovation in the 1960s and early 1970s (turning to pasta and rice) and again between 2000 and 2004, and that they felt more reluctant about innovation between 1975 and 2000. How can this be explained? Considering the trends we previously laid out, it is possible to say that the graph reflects the consecutive waves of internationalization and regional turns. Thus, the trends in cookbooks and women’s magazines are not isolated. Based on potato consumption in Belgium, it is fair to say that domestic cooking confirms the evolution previously described.

Conclusion: Upgrading the Local This essay has touched upon questions about the use of food as an identity marker, the nature of local food, and the influence of foreign food. The case of Belgium reveals a relationship between local and foreign foods in terms of both incorporation and exclusion. First, foreign foodways have always influenced local cooking and eating. Suffice it to consider potatoes and pasta, which today are basic

foodstuffs in Belgium. Second, the opposition between the Self and the Other is at times strongly upheld: local food is labeled as “our,” “authentic,” “national,” or “regional” (the Self), in distinction from “their,” “artificial,” or “international” (the Other). Foodways are classified as national or regional to forge sentiments of belonging, especially in Belgium, where strong separatist political feelings lead to intense regional reactions. Since 1830 Belgium has witnessed two international food waves alternating with two local food waves, each of which simultaneously opposed and built upon the other’s characteristics. In this process local food was continuously redefined. The waterzooi of 1900 may be totally different from the one we eat today; however, both are Belgian dishes.g notes 1. Ruth Van Waerebeek and Maria Robbins, Everybody Eats Well in Belgium (New York: Workman, 1996), back cover. 2. Peter Scholliers, “Meals, Food Narratives, and Sentiments of Belonging in Past and Present,” in Food, Drink and Identity, ed. by Peter Schollliers (Oxford & New York: Berg, 2001), 3–22. 3. Claude Fischler, “Food, Self, and Identity,” Social Science Information 27:2 (1988): 275–292. 4. Eszter Kisbàn, “Dishes as Samples and Symbols: National and Ethnic Markers in Hungary,” in Essen und kulturelle Identität, ed. by H.J. Teuteberg, G. Neumann, and A. Wierlacher (Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1996), 204–211. 5. Peter Scholliers, “Cuisine, Internationalism, Nationalism, and Regionalism: The Role of Food in the Construction of Territorial Sentiments (Belgium, 1830s–2000),” in Regionalisierung europäischer Konsumkulturen im 20. Jahrhundert, ed. by Hannes Siegrist and Manuel Schramm (Leipzig: Universitätsverlag, 2003), 170–189. 6. Octave Uzanne, “Bruxelles,” in Le Figaro Illustré, June 1910, 6. 7. Paul Bouillard, “La Belgique gourmande,” La cuisine et la femme, June 1935, 6–7. Our translation. 8. Prosper Montagné and Dr. Gottschalk, Larousse gastronomique (Paris: Larousse, 1938), 403. Our translation. 9. Arjun Appadurai, “How to Make a National Cuisine: Cookbooks in Contemporary India,” Comparative Studies in Society and History 30:1 (1988), 3–24. 10. Steven Van den Berghe, “Etnische diversiteit in het 20e–eeuwse Brusselse restaurant,” Volkskunde, 2008, 359–360. 11. Yves Segers, “Food Recommendations, Tradition and Change in a Flemish Cookbook: Ons Kookboek, 1920–2000,” Appetite 45 (2005), 4. 12. Ibid., 4–14. 13. Katholiek Vormingswerk van Landelijke Vrouwen, Bij De Haard, 1971–1976; Katholiek Vormingswerk van Landelijke Vrouwen, Eigen Aard, 1976–1999. 14. Scholliers, “Cuisine, Internationalism, Nationalism and Regionalism,” 187. 15. Katholiek Vormingswerk van Landelijke Vrouwen, Eigen Aard, 1983. 16. Scholliers, “Cuisine, Internationalism, Nationalism, and Regionalism,” 187.