Is there anything more American than a buffet? Endless opportunities, unlimited indulgences, and unrestrained gluttony at its finest. Should a metal chaffing dish ever grow empty, a new one will appear, bountiful and beguiling, ready for the next round. It’s an odd phenomenon that I find impossibly fascinating, representing a Venn diagram that overlaps between bliss and revulsion.
Do I really need another plate of fried miscellany, just because it’s there? How many more servings before I’ve gotten my money’s worth? How long has that unrefrigerated potato salad really been sitting out? Why do most buffets have abysmal health scores? Some things are best not thought about.
Despite all the ostentatious trappings of the modern American buffet, we can’t lay claim to their invention. The US is still a nascent country compared to the most of the world, all of which had a huge head start on culinary development. Though its reliably a realm for the wealthy to showcase their largess, it hasn’t always been about quantity over quality.
Scandinavians can reasonably take credit for the original concept dating back to the 16th century. Brännvinsbord were served as a pre-meal snack of cold items like cheeses, bread, and other small tapas-like dishes, set out for guests to help themselves while mixing and mingling. By the time the early 18th century rolled around, these appetizers were expanded into smörgåsbords, encompassing a full meal and including hot dishes as well. However, the term “buffet” itself originates from the French, in reference to the piece of furniture where food was displayed.
Its original European elegance has worn thin after many years overseas, evidenced by the proliferation of steam table mystery meats and troughs of limp, oily fries. I know that a buffet will never be a good idea, especially as a vegan who can only safely consume about 1/10th of the questionable wares on display, and yet, I’m drawn inexorably to them, like a moth to the flame. The culture of buffets is a whole separate dogma, drawing a different set of social norms and expectations, like a crazy microcosm of the worst of human behavior. The people watching is top-tier; worth the price of admission alone.
The food is bad, yes, but there’s so much of it, which makes it good! Prices are steeper than an a composed entree, but you get to eat far more than you’d comfortably like to, so it’s a bargain! I get trapped down these spiraling, conflicting thought patterns, fully aware and yet fully willing to take the plunge. Do I want to go to the buffet? Yes, of course. Do I want to eat at the buffet? No, please god, anything but that.
Though the buffet has faced steep criticism and near extinction during the COVID-19 pandemic, it continues on, regaining lost ground particularly in hotels, casinos, and similar tourist traps. It’s part of the American experience now, no matter how abjectly terrible that may be. Consider it entertainment more than a meal, and you may have a better experience.
we love a good buffet! )