The Food That Feeds Us

I’ll say it right now: I’m a purist. God, I hate admitting it, but when it comes to certain dishes, that side of me always shows.

Don’t get me wrong, I love a bit of food porn. I’ll doomscroll Instagram like the rest of us, drooling over a butterflied fish charred to perfection or a sloppy triple smash burger dripping with cheddar and bacon onto a sesame bun. That’s my obsession: good food in every shape and form.

But there’s one thing I can’t get behind, a hill I’ll happily die on: turning simple working-class meals into luxury stunts.

Every place has that dish. The one everyone knows. Vietnam has its bánh mì. Greece has gyros. Belgium has fries. New York has the slice. These foods weren’t designed to impress critics or win awards—they were designed to feed people. They came from cheap cuts, humble ingredients, and the need to fill a belly without emptying a wallet. They were quick, affordable, and, by some miracle of history, delicious enough to stick around.

And yet, here we are. My feed is flooded with “elevated” versions. Burgers wrapped in gold leaf. Pizza drowned in truffle. Tacos topped with foie gras. Come on, what are we doing here?

Food doesn’t need to wear a tuxedo to be good. It doesn’t need caviar or wagyu to be respected. These dishes earned their place in our cultures by being accessible. They’re the foods we grew up with, the foods we begged our parents for when cooking wasn’t an option, the foods we shared at 2 a.m. on a street corner with friends.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s a time and place for experimentation. Creativity belongs in kitchens. Curiosity is the heartbeat of gastronomy, and I’ll always admire the chefs who take unknown ingredients and turn them into something unforgettable. That’s how food evolves.

But evolution shouldn’t erase roots. A bánh mì doesn’t need foie gras to matter. A slice of New York pizza doesn’t need truffles to prove itself. A burger doesn’t need gold leaf; it just needs to be greasy, messy, and wrapped in paper that soaks through before you’ve even taken the last bite.

Staples should stay staples. They don’t need a facelift. They don’t need to be dressed up for social media. They just need to be what they’ve always been: food made for everyone.