In Houston Restaurants, ‘Fusion’ Doesn’t Have to Be a Negative

Fusion used to be a dirty word. For years, it conjured images of overreaching chefs tossing unrelated ingredients onto the same plate in the name of “creativity.” Calling something “fusion,” then, garnered serious side-eye. The term felt like an insult—a gimmick, a culinary identity crisis, maybe even a betrayal of tradition. In my years as a food writer, I’d even find myself pausing before uttering the word to a chef, as if it were a slur. But I’ve tasted my way through places I’ve lived, and I knew, technically, fusion was everywhere I went. There were French, African, and Italian flavors in Casablanca, Morocco; Cantonese cuisine, dim sum, but also fajitas in Hong Kong; Portuguese-style stuffed Quahog clams in Rhode Island; and American fast food–inspired creations everywhere. Calling any of it by a single name could prove difficult.

Times are changing, though. “Fusion” doesn’t feel so icky anymore, at least not in Houston.

Here, cultures don’t just coexist—they collide and reshape one another. It’s in the Viet-Cajun crawfish that bubbled up from our bayous, the chefs who grew up craving pho instead of fast food, and the unbridled love for Mexican food that has unsurprisingly made its way into nearly every culinary nook and cranny. But it’s not just in our restaurant scene. It’s in our own kitchens, too, when we swap ramen for spaghetti or tuck leftover brisket into a tortilla. It’s in our museums, on city walls scrawled with graffiti, and clubs where people line-dance as hard to rap music as they do country.

It’s what happens when you live in one of the most diverse cities in the nation. Boundaries blur, flavors mingle, and something entirely new emerges—not a bastardization or appropriation, but an evolution.

In Houston, these overlaps are proof that we’re interconnected and paying attention to the world around us. When done right, fusion can be a nod, an acknowledgment, an I see you—and maybe even an I couldn’t live without you. I’ve felt this when eating menudo, a traditional Mexican soup, prepared by my mother-in-law, a Black woman with deep roots in the South (still some of the best I’ve ever had!), and when I try my best at recreating my favorite restaurant dishes at home. It’s the story of how we share, adapt, and create something that feels both unfamiliar (possibly new?), but definitely, deeply ours.

That’s the heart of this fall issue, which I’m proud to call my first as the new editor in chief of Houstonia. We’re celebrating the beautiful collisions that make Houston what it is, and while some might still wince at this infamous term (we understand! and so do chefs), we’re slowly learning to embrace it. Because in Houston, fusion isn’t just a trend. It’s just another one of our many strengths.

So, call it what you want—fusion, evolution, or just Houston. Whatever you call it, know this: It’s ours.

Published in the Fusion: The Taste of Houston issue of Houstonia Mag.