The term “White People Food” has become a prevalent phrase, especially online, often used to describe a particular style of cuisine perceived as bland or unseasoned. But what exactly is “white people food,” and where did this stereotype originate? The concept, as it’s understood today, largely stems from American culinary history, particularly the food trends of the past century.
The Roots in American Culinary History: Great Depression and Post-War Blandness
The Great Depression era significantly shaped American eating habits, pushing diets toward readily available and inexpensive options. Culinary historians Jane Ziegelman and Andrew Coe explain to NPR that this period saw a rise in canned vegetables, creamed dishes, and starchy casseroles. The focus was heavily skewed towards nutritional sustenance over flavorful indulgence. Spicy foods, in particular, were often avoided, viewed similarly to stimulants like caffeine and alcohol.
Following World War II, the homogenization of “white” food intensified. Annaliese Griffin notes in Quartz how American food in schools and institutions morphed into a “middlebrow mess” characterized by white bread fried in margarine with processed cheese, instant potatoes, casseroles, and fish sticks. This 1950s image of frozen TV dinners and mass-produced, shelf-stable meals became an “iconic stereotype of what ‘American’ food was,” as Smithsonian food historian Ashley Rose Young points out, even if it didn’t accurately represent the diverse diets across the United States. Despite this stereotype, it’s important to remember that both white and non-white Americans were consumers of packaged foods during this time, many of which were sold by companies founded by migrant entrepreneurs, such as Goya Foods and Kubla Khan.
The Stereotype Takes Hold: From Joke to Mainstream Meme
This slice of mid-century suburban food solidified as “white people food” in popular imagination, evolving from an inside joke within Black Twitter and diaspora communities into a widely recognized social media trope. As global cuisines and spicy flavors gained mainstream popularity in the last decade, the contrast with perceived “white people food” became more pronounced. Jokes and memes about casseroles, mayonnaise, and mild flavors as quintessential “white people food” began to proliferate across online platforms, from content farms to food publications and comedy videos.
Incidents like a UK Indian restaurant labeling a mild curry order as “VERY MILD, WHITE PPL” on a receipt further fueled the stereotype, briefly going viral and highlighting the association of whiteness with blandness in food. Even Beyoncé’s “hot sauce in my bag” lyric in 2016 sparked conversations about the cultural significance of hot sauce, particularly within Southern Black identity, and questions around who has the cultural authority to claim a love for spicy food. The flavor dichotomy continued to solidify online, becoming a meme and even earning entries in Urban Dictionary defining “white people food” and “white people spicy.”
TikTok and the Modern “Flavor Police”
TikTok has significantly amplified the “white people food” concept. It’s now commonplace to find comments on food videos criticizing a perceived lack of seasoning or spice, so much so that it has become a self-aware trope. This online environment fosters a hypervigilance regarding the appearance of flavor. Content creators and viewers alike display an anxiety about “getting it wrong” when it comes to seasoning. This is evident in recipe developers creating videos explicitly defending their seasoning choices and the ubiquitous preemptive comments like “here before the ‘where’s the seasoning’ comments.” This self-consciousness is often presented with humor, yet it underscores a real sensitivity around flavor perception in online food culture.
In conclusion, “white people food” as a concept is a complex blend of historical food trends, cultural stereotypes, and social media amplification. While rooted in the bland, processed food era of mid-20th century America, it has evolved into a meme reflecting contemporary online anxieties about flavor, cultural appropriation, and culinary authenticity.
