From Beans on Toast to Tavern Food: Why UK Food Will Always Be a Scapegoat to the US Internet

Let us consider a handful of the insults to cookery that the Brits have brought to the doorstep of the hungry American. The most obvious target is, of course, anything that could be interpreted as traditional British food. Often not visually pleasing enough to hypnotize on Instagram or TikTok and, relatedly, lacking in the nebulous idea that is seasoning. There is plenty to decry. Something as simple as a cheese and onion sandwich is more than enough to cause concern and inspire a multitude of half-baked anthropological takes that camp around the same stereotypes of misery and tastelessness—though we must admit that including a slice of onion as thick as the cheese makes for an alarming image. 

Things get kicked up to another level of hysteria when UK food meets that of other nations. A mere week ago, a British foodie shared a picture of her purportedly Neapolitan-style pizza from a London pizzeria and got accused by a US X user of “playing fast and loose with what constitutes pizza.” “Are those beans lol” a fellow American asked of the olives that were part of the topping—as if the very fact of the meal being served on British soil dooms it to being infected with the twisted national obsession of beans, unthinkable to the land that embraces the bean-centric Tex-Mex as one of its favorite cuisines.

Speaking of Mexican food, US social media rarely passes up an opportunity to express shock at how ignorant their transatlantic neighbors are when it comes to one of their most beloved imported cuisines. Competitive baking show The Great British Bakeoff faced a thorough roasting by US viewers on social media when it swapped its usual twee Britannia approach for “Mexico Week,” where everyone failed to pronounce any of the dishes correctly, and one contestant attempted to peel an avocado like a potato.

Even more dramatic, however, was the great British Chinese Food debate of 2023. A deep dive on TikTok that showcased British-Chinese takeout revealed such horrors as many dishes being various shades of brown and orange, side orders of fries, and the fact that the majority of the UK calls this food “a Chinese.”

This particular genre adds an extra level to the outrage as it offers up the opportunity to view these supposed culinary crimes through the lens of Britain’s colonialism, attributing popular immigrant-led adaptations to the cooking from certain countries to the entrenched prejudice of the nation.

The crescendo of the United States discovering “A Chinese” was an Irish-American TikToker stitching a video of a (Welsh) creator’s takeaway with a rant about how she had grown up being told that the English had eaten her ancestors. In response to these critiques, some British people who were involved in this argument made a point of questioning the authenticity of Panda Express.

Despite the fact that many of the memeified attacks on British cuisine come with a historical nod, it is a not-dissimilar line of argument that somehow makes it palatable too. It’s a kind of hype that markets a nostalgia that much of the intended audience has never experienced, and importantly, it presents it in an aesthetic way that allows it to be deemed acceptable and not as an object of ridicule.

For example, the recent TikTok trend of ‘Tavern Food’ gained traction through its romantic depiction of recipes such as meat pies, stews, and Toad in the Hole. It’s the kind of thing you might expect to be served up in a video game like Fable or Skyrim, and all dishes that could coincidentally be associated with a British culinary tradition.

On occasion, there is even a somewhat ironic respect for certain aspects of the food culture that the Brits share on social media. It can be found in the apparent appreciation for the minor culinary craze of British tapas, a plate of ready-made beige-adjacent foods like oven pizza and waffle fries that are bound to gain the approval of any frequent consumer of chicken tenders and similar items.

Taking into account these exceptions and the many examples that detract from them, British food is a frequent internet antagonist for the following reasons. It is a peek into an aspect of this national culture that for many Americans is mostly an unknown entity. There is no real UK equivalent to McDonalds that has given the US a tangible, local insight into the national cuisine.

It also comes from a country that is, in many ways, ripe for legitimate criticism and a historical rival to the dominant players on the English-speaking internet. Food that is decidedly not optimized for social media is a perfect starting point for harder-hitting punchlines. The unwilling main characters are more than ready to level equivalent accusations at their tormentors as well.

Anything that provides a disruption to the cultural hegemony that the USA has over the Anglophone internet is bound to create a stir, and few things are as visceral as what Brits eat. Add to that a defensive, highly critical counterargument and it’s a recipe for a perpetual stew of tense and repetitive discourse.

Two prideful countries with a historical animosity and an almost equal, if differently expressed, penchant for questionable food choices make for a narrative irresistible to any clout chaser. It is as much about who can perform the highest level of disbelief as who has been cooking. 

Food is at the heart of most national identities, and arguing is at the heart of the social media experience; it’s no wonder that it has become a key part of the memeifed protests to the special relationship. There is nothing like food-based culture shock to remind us that taste is subjective.