What Makes American Cuisine American?

 Defining American cuisine isn’t as simple as pointing to one dish or one tradition. This isn’t France or Italy, where food evolves slowly, rooted in centuries of regional identity. America is different. We’re a country built by people from everywhere—immigrants, Indigenous peoples, enslaved people—all bringing their stories, survival instincts, and food. And when they got here, they didn’t just recreate what they left behind. They adapted, innovated, and made something new.

American cuisine isn’t a copy of anyone else’s—it’s a remix. A mash-up. A rough-and-ready evolution of flavor that reflects who we are: resourceful, bold, and unafraid to break the rules.

The All-American Cookout

You want tradition? Start with the grill. Memorial Day, Fourth of July, Labor Day—doesn’t matter. The backyard fills up, the grill lights up, and suddenly you’ve got burgers, dogs, ribs, and brisket hitting the fire. Sides like potato salad, baked beans, and slaw round it out. It’s not about the exact menu—it’s about the ritual. Smoke, good food, friends. That’s America.

Southern Roots, National Reach

Southern food is no longer just Southern. Fried chicken, biscuits, shrimp and grits, chicken-fried steak, cornbread—these aren’t regional secrets anymore. They’re national standards. Born out of struggle and built with love, these dishes travel well because they’re honest, hearty, and full of soul.

Meat and Potatoes, Baby

If you want to know how America eats, go to a steakhouse. We love our beef, and we love it big—served sizzling with creamed spinach, a loaded baked potato, and a steak knife that means business. No fluff. No tricks. Just fire and flavor.

Comfort Food That Gets You Through

There’s something unmistakably American about food that wraps around you like a blanket. Mac and cheese, chili, meatloaf, pot roast, chicken pot pie—these are the dishes we turn to when we need warmth, stability, and a break from the noise. They come from humble places and hit hard when it counts.

Seafood with a Coastal State of Mind

With coastlines on three sides and a Great Lakes region in the middle, American seafood varies but always delivers. The New England clambake—with lobster, clams, potatoes, and corn—is iconic. Maryland gave us crab cakes. The Gulf? Shrimp boils and crawfish feeds. And then there’s the West Coast, where dishes like cioppino emerged.

Now me? I’m from Long Island. It’s the perfect blend of NYC sophistication and New England’s coastal soul. Being on an island means seafood is part of the rhythm of life. People think the lobster roll came from Maine—but The truth is it was invented in Connecticut, but I believe the best ones are from a couple stands in Montauk. And I’ve got my own take on chowder too: Long Island Clam Chowder—a balanced blend of the tomato-based Manhattan style and the creamy New England version. You get the brightness of tomato with the richness of cream. It works. And it’s ours.

There’s been some back-and-forth over who came up with Long Island Clam Chowder. Some credit a restaurant called Popei’s. Others point to the Doxsee family, who were famous in the clam business for generations. But for the record—I believe, and I maintain—that I was the first to do it in the 1990s. I started serving it in kitchens out east, and soon after, I saw it popping up in other spots. Call it what you want, but I know where it came from.

And while we’re on the subject of Long Island—Blue Point oysters deserve their flowers. These oysters, originally harvested from the Great South Bay, are meaty, briny, and clean. They’ve been prized since the 1800s, served in top restaurants around the world. They’re a pure expression of the water they come from—bold, salty, and smooth. Just like home.

Immigrants Didn’t Just Bring Their Recipes—They Made New Ones

Many of our greatest food traditions didn’t come from the old country—they were created here, by immigrants using what they had.

Take cioppino, a seafood stew created by Italian fishermen in San Francisco in the late 1800s. It’s not something they brought with them—it’s something they made here, using crab, clams, shrimp, and fish from the Pacific, stewed in tomatoes, wine, garlic, and herbs. Rustic, bold, unforgettable.

Now let’s talk Detroit.

People here are proud—and for good reason. You can’t talk about American food without mentioning Detroit’s Coney Islands. The Coney dog—hot dog topped with seasoned beef chili, mustard, and diced onions—is a Detroit institution. The name comes from Coney Island, New York, but the dish as we know it was created here by Greek immigrants in the early 1900s.

The first to do it was Gust Keros, who opened American Coney Island in 1917. His brother, William, opened Lafayette Coney Island right next door. The rivalry became part of Detroit’s culinary DNA. While the influence nods to New York in name, the Coney dog as we know it? 100% Detroit.

Sweet, Simple, Proud

We’ve all heard “as American as apple pie,” but there’s more to the story. Cherry, pecan, and key lime pies hold their own. So does strawberry shortcake—red, white, and blue in dessert form. These aren’t pretentious pastries. They’re approachable, nostalgic, and made to be shared.

Americanized? Damn Right.

People love to knock us for “Americanizing” food. But let’s be real—we don’t disrespect cuisines; we evolve them. Pizza, pasta, Chinese food, tacos—we adapted them to fit our pace, our produce, our palates. That’s not dilution. That’s innovation.

Bottom Line

American cuisine isn’t a straight line—it’s a patchwork quilt stitched from every culture that ever set foot here. It’s built on survival, struggle, adaptation, and flavor. It’s fried chicken and pho. Ribs and ramen. Burgers and birria. It’s fire, smoke, sweetness, spice, and soul.

At the end of the day, American food is about feeding people well and making them feel something. That’s the tradition I care about—and the one I try to carry forward every time I step into the kitchen.