Savoring Tradition

Diplomacy is everywhere. It’s in the headlines with diplomats flying across the world into hushed rooms, with threats of sanctions and hardline negotiations. It’s in the splashy parties hosted at the White House. It’s in 20-year-olds tending to fields with the locals through Peace Corps. It’s the stick and the carrot. 

And literally, the carrot. Treasury Secretary Janet Yellin earned a feature in The New York Times about eating in restaurants while on assignment. She’s been noted and photographed with beers in China (the microbrewery used American hops) and an endless line of salsas in Mexico City. She’s surprised at the headlines, but says it’s not often government officials are seen eating out with the public. Isn’t one of Anthony Bourdain’s most indelible television scenes him dining in Vietnam with President Barack Obama? 

But not all diplomacy is government sanctioned. Chefs do their own part. In Rwanda, Chef Dieuveil Malonga created an organization to teach and empower women in the culinary field. And, he pauses his restaurant, Meza Malonga, for months at a time so the team can travel across Africa, learning about various spices, produce and techniques. 

A decade ago, Peabody-winning journalist Mariana van Zeller and “Top Chef” winner Michael Voltaggio hosted the Travel Channel show “Breaking Borders,” highlighting how food changes the conversation in places fraught with tension and violence.

It’s the soft touch that keeps humans at the table, to keep talking, while eating. 

Culinary diplomacy, a fusion of gastronomy and international relations, transcends the familiar realms of whatever you may believe constitutes traditional peacekeeping. In this case, food is used as a catalyst for cultural exchange, an avenue for understanding someone you perhaps haven’t “broken bread” with in your lifetime. Whether that means exchanging anecdotes on the history behind plates or customs, it’s important we recognize the necessary role chefs play as cultural ambassadors, storytellers, and agents of modern change.

The historical interpretation of culinary diplomacy dates back centuries, because it intersects with how humans evolved. Sharing meals centuries ago was a means to foster trust and companionship among leaders and allies. Again, think of state dinners thrown at the White House. The invited guests are carefully curated and given nothing short of A-list service. That’s a practice that dates back to the Roman Empire and the tea ceremonies of ancient China. In short, food has served as a vessel for forging unions and resolving conflicts. There’s a reason why the phrase “the way to someone’s heart is through their stomach” rings true. 

Fast forward several hundred years, it actually wasn’t until modern history that culinary tact really began taking shape as a formalized process. In the aftermath of World War II, countries desired new strategies for maintaining peace and adjusting to life in a war-torn world. The emergence of organizations like the United Nations and UNESCO ushered an era of cultural diplomacy, with food being the nucleus and a metaphor for displaying national identity and heritage.

Perhaps one of the pioneers of modern peacekeeping when it comes to food was the late Paul Bocuse, the iconic French chef acclaimed for elevating French cuisine to what we regard as art. Bocuse’s culinary skills transcended national borders and earned him the title of “Chef of the Century.” His work in and outside the kitchen established Bocuse him as a global culinary ambassador. Monsieur Paul’s iconic restaurant, L’Auberge du Pont de Collonges, became a safe haven for gourmands and diplomats alike, symbolizing the intersection of gastronomy and diplomacy. As a result, he affectionately adopted the nickname “the pope of gastronomy.”

When discussing international relations, it’s important to recognize the position chefs play as cultural influencers. Sure they’re formally trained in the art of a perfectly cooked steak or the optimal temperature to serve potatoes, but these culinary masterminds also capitalize on their people skills to bridge cultural divides and promote cross-cultural understanding. Think of programs like the State Department’s “Diplomatic Culinary Partnership,” where cuisiniers serve as deputies of culinary, representing their countries on the world stage, showcasing the diversity of their culinary heritage, and hopefully leaving with people desiring for more.

Keep in mind that culinary diplomacy should not be limited to formal affairs. You can find such togetherness in everyday discourse, and perhaps that’s where chefs are comfortable. After all, the kitchen is their happy place. Their hands do the talking and if they’re good at their job, don’t need to say much. They connect with diners via pop-up dinners, cooking demonstrations, or food festivals. Food is such a beautiful love language that when two people lack commonality in a shared dialect, we can look to the plate as a translator. 

At its core, culinary diplomacy recognizes cultural identity and diversity, shedding light on flavors, ingredients, and techniques that encompass a nation’s cuisine. From the fiery spices of Indian fare to the Sunday custom of making tomato sauce in Italy, each dish tells a larger story of history, geography, and heritage, offering a peek into the soul of a culture.

Arguably speaking, the most powerful aspect of culinary diplomacy lies in its capability to form meaningful relationships and if we’re lucky, transcend political differences while encouraging empathy. The beauty of this world is that all individuals come from diverse backgrounds. Food has the power to break down barriers and serve as the best ice breaker.

In a world that is unfortunately divided by politics, religion, and ideology, culinary diplomacy offers a sliver of faith—a reminder that through the simple act of breaking bread, we can find common ground and celebrate our shared humanity. So let us raise our glasses to the chefs, the cultural ambassadors, and the agents of change who use the power of food to sow seeds of harmony and understanding in a complex yet so very interconnected world.