Culture, appropriation and the place of poutine

Many readers will be blissfully unaware that the annual Congress of the Humanities and Social Sciences is taking place this week in Toronto. It’s a gathering of super intelligent academics who will discuss such riveting topics as “Teaching rhetorical ethics in a post-truth economy” and “The ampersand as a symbol of gentrification.”

Unfortunately I’ll be unable to attend this year but one paper slated to be presented is already causing waves, if not nation wide, at least in parts of Quebec. Nicholas Fabien-ouellet, a Montreal born graduate student at the University of Vermont, will be reading something entitled “Poutine Dynamics.”

Fabien-ouellet is not so much concerned about the definition of poutine or its origin nor is he worried about adulteration of the classic dish of fries, gravy and curd cheese with the addition of things like smoked meat or lobster, rather he is upset that it is being referred to as a “Canadian” dish by foodies world wide. This, says Fabien-oulette, is nothing more than cultural appropriation and an overt attack on a threatened Quebecois identity. Well, pass the vinegar. Cultural appropriation? When did we fall so far that we are willing to complain about the origins of something often referred to as a “heart attack on a plate?” Admittedly, it is likely that at some point back in the 1950s an inspired short order cook in Drummondville or Warwick (depends upon who you ask) threw some curd cheese on some fires with gravy and called it a poutine. But painting a horse with stripes doesn’t make it a zebra.

French fries have been served with gravy for years. Adding curd cheese may have been inspired or a disaster (again depends upon who you ask) but the recognition of that act is hardly a defining point of Quebecois culture.

One has to wonder what Fabien-ouellet makes of a Scotsman’s clan tartan. There are thousands of Quebecers out there who have never had a bowl of porridge in there life, let alone hunted a haggis across the wild heath, who nevertheless happily wear a Macdonald skirt or a Macbain tie. Is that not cultural appropriation?

What about the western festivals that are so popular throughout Quebec? When the lovely village of Weedon can become “Le Village des Daltons” each summer in celebration of the same gang that left a trail of bank robberies and train heists across Kansas in the 19th century, is there not a bit of cultural thievery going on? Perhaps, unbeknownst to me, the ten gallon hat was once actually standard wear for the Quebec farmer.

Cultural appropriation is one of those concepts that academics love and the socially sensitive wave about with little thought. Given the fact that about half the pizzerias in Quebec are owned by Greeks should proof of Italian heritage become a requirement to open a restaurant? The joy of our multicultural experiment is that we share and adopt.

Perhaps the best example of cultural appropriation at its finest is the St. Patrick’s parade in Montreal. One day a year everyone becomes Irish. East Indians wear green top hats, Greek children paint shamrocks on their cheeks, O’blanchette becomes a name for the day everyone forces down a plate of corn beef and cabbage and nobody cares who owns St. Paddy. It should be the same with poutine.