Going out to a restaurant, i.e. going out for breakfast or brunch or lunch or dinner early and late, is not only about the food on the plate in front of us: It’s a culinary adventure; an experience designed to create sensations we don’t have, will not get, and cannot recreate, at home.
The pros: Many new restaurants doing many new things, changing, every day, and always.
The cons: Well, we don’t always need these things. Sometimes simplicity is enough.
A Man is Hungry
A friend told me once that he was very hungry for Chinese food. We rattled off for him a long list of Chinese restaurants in the Twin Cities. Does he want takeout? No. Something fried or something fresh? To sit down for dim sum? Does he want noodles or does he want rice?
He wanted something he had never had before. We looked at each other and shrugged. He wanted a trip to China, deep into the heart of the country’s largest cities to find foods that hadn’t yet made it across the ocean and probably never would. He wanted to go deep into grain fields and pastoral settings where a full meal is something to be cherished and respected. The flavors that can only be found where they come from; the things that can only be had where they grow and have grown for thousands and thousands of years.
Global cuisine has allowed us to have so many things at our fingertips. So many tastes and dishes, so many cultures recreating their homelands right in front of our noses. Should we celebrate eating a Cuban breakfast of beans and rice and plantains? A Brazilian lunch of feijoada? A Mediterranean dinner of olives and lemon chicken? All in the same day?
Celebrate, yes. But in the midst of our celebrating we often take these things for granted: That just because we can have bananas in Minnesota doesn’t mean our bananas are better. That just because we have dozens (or more, hundreds) of Chinese restaurants doesn’t mean we know and understand anything Chinese culture and what their food is all about.
We are not an island unto ourselves, and that is a beautiful thing – that the United States is a melting pot of flavors and foods is what makes the food in this country so special; the mixing of cultures, the evolution of tastes, the incorporation of one thing and then another. Yes. But we have to reach further into the world to understand that they did not start here, and if we want something new we still have to search for it, and should. We are not paralyzed by choice, and we are lucky to have it. And that should always be true.
But we try to forget: We wait (impatiently) for this new restaurant serving authentic Japanese to open right down the street from our favorite bar and flock to it once it does, or did-you-hear-about-those-empanadas-on-5th-Street? They’re better than anywhere you’ve had in the world, and you’ve traveled all around the world, haven’t you?
But your grandma still makes the best food and nothing will ever quite compare to that.
So we flock to new restaurant after new restaurant and forget about the ones that were already there. In our eagerness to have something we haven’t had before we forget about the things that made us love food in the first place. When another restaurant opens and, like lemmings we rush to that one, the last new restaurant, the last “it” place, still swooning from their 6 months to one year-long influx of hungry patrons that read about them in the the latest review/article/blog post suddenly finds themselves empty, offering longer happy hours, cutting hours, staff, lunch…
Are the diners to blame for this?
The restaurant industry is a volatile one. This is obvious, and no real secret. And if diners, those paying money, are no longer excited and the restaurant does not know how to keep their interest, it cannot be the diner that is to blame. And yet this current culture of wanting more, wanting new, and to see-and-be-seen has certainly thrown many tried-and-true eateries and fresh ideas alike a curve ball.
They’ve done everything right, they maintain high standards of product and service. They try so hard. So where does everyone go?
This is seen even more with the new places that open: Local institutions have a bit more insurance (at least until their loyal customers die off or move away) with people already familiar; places from childhood and prom, places that have a name for themselves promising something familiar every time. These places, the low percentage the restaurants that survive the one, five, 10, 50 year mark (and who helped to created this culture in first place), still struggle to survive the whims and fickle needs of diners.
No place is safe.
When we could be happy with what our region has to offer, when we could learn what bounty the land has to offer and focus on what grows and has always grown here, we instead keep reaching further and further out for that latest new thing. And we’re often disappointed when it’s not what we thought it would be.
And that is the fault of the diner.
Minnesota food is exciting. Even in winter. Minnesota is agriculture and animals on farms. Minnesota is root vegetables and indigenous cuisine from vast fields and green, growing landscapes. Minnesota is the ground and the air and the sky. Minnesota is urban farming and year-round aquaponics.
What makes someplace like (Rene Redzepi’s) NOMA so exciting is that, while it is so innovative, so fresh, so unprecedented, it is still the place that is represented. It is still the land on which it stands that ends up in front of us.
So what is Minnesota cuisine?
We haven’t quite developed it yet. But we will. Take the places that celebrate our heritage, the chefs that spotlight Indigenous cuisine, the immigrants from everywhere that have brought their traditions to snowy Minnesota, planted it in the ground, and watched it grow. If we focus on this, instead of national, international trends that exists, frankly, because they are trends; if we take a look inward instead of outward, if we reach into our own bread basket for the items that grace our tables, beautiful things will certainly come from Minnesota as well.