The year 2016 marked momentous ructions in the international order. Among them was the affair of Jamie Oliver’s paella. The celebrity chef from Essex provoked international outcry, along with claims of cultural appropriation, over a paella recipe that included chorizo. Connoisseurs of Spanish cuisine insisted that the resulting dish was a travesty of tradition. Now an academic study has settled the question definitively, in favour of Oliver’s critics.
Stirred to defend the honour of their city’s signature dish by Oliver’s culinary imperialism, anthropologists at the Catholic University of Valencia asked at least one resident of each town in the province for a list of key ingredients. More than 90 per cent offered rice, olive oil, tomato, salt, saffron, green beans, lima beans, water and chicken. Others used rabbit. Oliver’s much-maligned sausage, however, was nowhere to be seen.
Oliver’s detractors may celebrate this apparent rebuff, yet they should be wary of appearing hidebound. True gastronomes are eclectic and refrain from waging culture wars over the dinner table. The proprietorial jealousy with which nations guard their ancestral suppers is predictable, and Oliver has himself been a victim of it before. He withstood bewilderment over his recipe for the Ghanaian staple of jollof rice. His version of carbonara laden with cream was perhaps too much of a good thing. Yet the true test of a chef is taste.
In an age when national identities are too often presented as incompatible, embellishments and adaptations to foreign food ought to be celebrated as multiculturalism in action. Oliver’s innovation is itself part of a rich tradition. Just ask a Liverpudlian over a plate of the stew once known to Norwegian sailors as lobscouse, a Londoner over a box of fried chicken, or a resident of Leicester over a chicken tikka masala.
