I believe in the power of semantics, that what we call things has power. The labels we assign others, and ourselves, are markers of identity—whether someone is in our “tribe” or not—and of value, good or bad, or right or wrong. Labels can be useful, but are often just a little bit too easy. They require us to strip away nuance, to reduce something down to our understanding of it. Sometimes we get this calculation right. More often, we get it wrong.

For an example of labeling gone wrong, as well as a rather stunning leap of logic, I offer: pâté. Ask my mother-in-law for her views on it and she’ll wax rhapsodically. Ask my Chief Recipe Taster and he’ll wrinkle his nose before murmuring darkly about 1950s-style Jell-O meat molds. So when my MIL pulled a container of “artichoke pâté” out of the fridge for appetizer hour this summer, it’s understandable that she was excited about it and he was not. But it was as unlike pâté as, well, Jell-O—just well-chopped artichoke hearts with a bit of garlic, parsley, and olive oil. We fell on it, slavering, and the little tub was gone before we’d finished our first glasses of wine. It was nothing like what you might label “real” pâté, and so good that my pate-hating Chief Recipe Taster asked whether I could mimic the stuff. A clearer case of mislabeling (both, perhaps, on the part of the producer as well as my taster) there never was.

Is it a bit of stretch to discuss the harmfulness of labelling vis-a-vis artichokes? Yes, my friend, I recognize that it is. But food is personal and the personal is political, and aren’t we in a moment here, one that calls us to rethink and reject labels? If we can’t start with pate, then how can we tackle the bigger issues?

Artichoke Pâté

Note: I make this pate in the food processor but you can also make it by hand. Just finely mince the garlic and chop the artichokes and parsley. Mix all of these together with the olive oil, and salt and pepper to taste.