When the Adaptation Falls Short ?

It’s full-on Spring verging on Summer in our soul food kitchen. Nothing like a cold soup for the humid months here (as well as my native Georgia). Nothing better than gazpacho. In this case, a muscadine-cucumber gazpacho garnished with Spanish Marcona almonds and a dollop of sour cream. One problem: No muscadine grapes in Israel.

Fuck it, I figured, I’ll just use the local varietal instead. How off could it be? Answer: Just enough off to differentiate a nice dish from an amazing one. A bit of (expensive!) aged balsamic and sherry vinegar managed to disguise some of the fault lines. And the presence of the Marcona almonds makes you stand up and take notice. But at its heart, this dish lacked one.

The whole issue is really a stacked deck, from a linguistic point of view isn’t it? Just calling something an “adaptation” not only invites comparison to the original but ipso facto implies a hierarchy. Hand-me-downs are just that, B-quality. Film treatments of novels are, well “treatments.” and not something named to stand on their own terms. Transplants from native habitats to adopted homelands are largely trying to make do.
Adjusting. Managing. Trying hard not to evoke points of origin. Hoping some how to avoid invidious comparisons. Good luck with that.

I’m right now in the process of reading David Shield's’ scholarly study of Southern cuisine and pathways, entitled Southern Provisions. Among other things, his study serves as a strong reminder of just how complex and dynamic so-called regional cuisines actually are. Consider the author’s encyclopedic itemization of French dishes dominating the culinary landscape in New Orleans in the early part of the nineteenth century, moving from tavern and inn to upscale hotels and restaurants. Of course, what evolves is a particularly Creole spin on these classic dishes, until, eventually, a new cuisine begins to emerge.

Maybe, just maybe, we are giving adaptation a bad rap from the get-go. Maybe, just maybe, we need a new word as well as a bit of unchartered space to describe the dynamics of how a new dish comes into its own. It still won’t fix my Israeli spin on a southern muscadine-cucumber gazpacho. I’ll need a few more iterations for that to happen.