Lille Allen/Eater
Thanks to the so-called Slavic Diet trend, buckwheat is the latest cultural food staple to be cast as a TikTok fetish object
Two things in life are inevitable: the march of time, and FoodTok gentrifying any given culture’s dietary staples.
The latest traditional food to fall victim to TikTok’s machinations is buckwheat, a wholesome grain (well, technically a seed) that proponents of the “Slavic Diet” trend are touting for its health benefits, pairing it with decidedly non-traditional, non-Slavic foods like avocado — another humble staple given a bougie makeover. The Slavic diet has been making the rounds since September, when it was first posted by user Anuutavg (the video is now unavailable). “Slavic girls know the ultimate trick to staying skinny is buckwheat,” read the caption. The post appeared on the heels of the “Slavic Doll” trend, which celebrates fetishizes “Slavic beauty.”
As a (half) Slavic girl myself, I have thoughts about this, and complaints.
My mother is from Poland, where buckwheat is a staple. We call it kasza, which is technically the term for any grain, including buckwheat, which, again, is not technically a grain but a seed. Buckwheat was first cultivated in China, then spread to Central Asia and Eastern Europe. It’s believed to have been brought to Poland in the 15th century via the Tatars. It is heart-healthy and rich in fiber, potassium, protein, iron, and vitamin B6. It cooks like rice, is surprisingly versatile, and works both as a side or on its own as a porridge. It’s amazing.
But it’s awful. On its own, buckwheat is unapologetically dry and has an aggressively nutty taste. I feel like it tastes like hardship. Each bite is a culinary equivalent of a rugged, Old Country mindset: Food, like life, is something to be endured, not enjoyed. Buckwheat is — I’m sorry — a chore to eat. It’s something that’s good for you, but not necessarily good.
To me, buckwheat feels like one of those foods you jettison as soon as you leave the old country. Why would you eat buckwheat for breakfast when you have access to sugar cereal? Buckwheat is a reminder you’re not assimilated. That your normal friends have the privilege of eating boneless, skinless chicken breast flavored with Lipton soup packets, but your mom eats head cheese and sends your dad to work with kabanosy that stinks up the office so bad it draws complaints.
That said, buckwheat is my go-to quick breakfast. I boil one Kupiec brand bag for 15 minutes (convenience beating fear of hot plastic), add cheese, a super-runny poached egg, and dill, all of which do nothing to get rid of that sharp buckwheat-y tang. I hate it, but I love it. Because it makes my body feel connected to centuries of my Polish and Ukrainian ancestors surviving on buckwheat and determination. It tastes like home.
I’m genuinely curious whether people who didn’t grow up with kasza will enjoy — or at least endure — it. Despite being eaten across a wide net of cultures including those of Central and Eastern Europe, China, Korea, and Japan, buckwheat hasn’t really hit the mainstream in America — perhaps the closest it’s come is in the form of soba noodles. But now that it’s being touted as a superfood with health and weight loss benefits, it might have its breakthrough.
But it bumps to see this cultural staple turning trendy on TikTok, like some kind of post-Soviet French Women Don’t Get Fat. The real “Slavic Diet” my mother grew up with often didn’t include food. My family struggled under communism, and my babcia would pretend to eat from a pot so my mother and uncle didn’t know there wasn’t enough food for all three of them. She’d feed them bread before bed to try to make them not look so bony, because skinny wasn’t chic. It was a reminder that my family’s farms were taken away at gunpoint.
I’m wary of what it means for buckwheat to take off in the Western Bloc. Kasza is hard to find in Los Angeles. My visits to the East Coast always end with me lugging back boxes of it from the Polski sklep, then getting stopped by TSA because they have to inspect each one. I once shared a knowing look with a Polish woman at JFK waiting for her boxes of kasza to get their personal pat downs, because it’s so aggressively Old Country to travel with grains in your bag that it’s suspicious, I guess. I get excited by the idea of buckwheat groats conveniently sitting next to quinoa and farro at Whole Foods — until I realize that convenience will come with a mark-up. What currently costs $4.99 a box at European Goodies is already $8.99 on Amazon.
Whole Foods forecast buckwheat as one of its Top 10 Food Trends for 2024 because of its growing popularity; as has been the case with many, many foods before it, greater popularity promises to move buckwheat away from its roots. It bothers me because Polish cooking has been my way to connect with my roots. The TikTok girlies who just want to be healthy or lose weight haven’t had phone conversations with their mothers about the way babcia used to make it. How could they possibly appreciate it in all its dry glory?
But food, like water, is fluid. It circulates and takes on new forms. I doubt the Slavic Dolls of yore intellectualized buckwheat when the Tatars brought it to them. So I can’t really get mad that people who haven’t spent hours mixing it with twaróg and stuffing it in pierogi are eating it now.
So have at it. I’m sorry it’s so dry. Try it with fried onions. Put it in chicken soup (rosółl), like my mom does. I will begrudgingly let you gentrify buckwheat as long as you stop putting an “s” at the end of pierogi. Smacznego!
Heidi Lux is a screenwriter and satirist based in Los Angeles. Her feature, Crushed, is streaming on Tubi, and her work has appeared in McSweeney’s, Reductress, the Belladonna Comedy, and more.
