7 foods boomers grew up thinking were American classics that actually came from somewhere else

Food has always been tied to identity. We eat what we grew up with, what our parents put on the table, and what our culture tells us is “ours.” For boomers, who came of age in post-war America, the foods around them were labeled “classic American.” But here’s the twist—many of those dishes didn’t actually originate here.

What fascinates me is how food can quietly shape our sense of belonging, even when its roots lie halfway across the globe. And maybe that’s the point: America has never been a closed kitchen. It’s a country built on borrowed flavors and blended traditions.

So let’s take a look at seven so-called American staples that actually came from somewhere else. Some of these may surprise you.

1) Apple pie

You’ve probably heard the phrase, “As American as apple pie.” It’s practically a slogan at this point. But the truth? Apple pie is far from a homegrown dish.

The apple itself isn’t native to North America—it came over with European colonists. In fact, the only apples indigenous to the continent were crabapples, which were far too tart to be baked into sweet pies.

Colonists imported apple trees from Europe, and the earliest recipes for apple pie trace back to England and the Netherlands, not the U.S.

By the time boomers were kids, apple pie was served at diners, school cafeterias, and backyard cookouts. It was marketed as the ultimate “comfort food,” something tied to patriotism and family wholesomeness.

To me, apple pie is a good metaphor for America itself: foreign in origin, but claimed and reshaped until it feels like home. Maybe that’s why it stuck so deeply—it represents both longing and reinvention.

2) Hot dogs

Few foods scream summer in America more than hot dogs. Think backyard barbecues, baseball games, the Fourth of July. Yet hot dogs are really just German sausages in disguise.

Frankfurters and wieners—named after Frankfurt and Vienna—were the real ancestors here. Immigrants brought their sausage-making skills to the U.S. in the 19th century, and street vendors in cities like New York started selling them in buns for portability.

Boomers grew up with the hot dog as a symbol of Americana, but its DNA is undeniably European. By the 1950s, hot dogs had become a household staple: boiled on the stovetop, roasted over a campfire, or lined up neatly in TV dinners.

Here’s the kicker: hot dogs became “American” not by invention, but by association—with leisure, sports, and celebration. We didn’t create them; we rebranded them.

3) Spaghetti and meatballs

This one always makes me smile. When I was little, spaghetti night felt like a family treat. A steaming bowl of pasta topped with red sauce and big round meatballs—it felt like an American-Italian hug. But in Italy? That dish doesn’t exist.

Spaghetti with tomato sauce is real enough, but pairing it with giant meatballs was an American adaptation by Italian immigrants in the early 20th century. In Italy, meat was scarce and served sparingly. Once immigrants arrived in America, with greater access to meat, they began bulking up their meals to feed large families.

By the time boomers came along, spaghetti and meatballs were already a “classic” of Italian-American households—and eventually, mainstream America. For many families, it became the Saturday night dinner ritual, complete with garlic bread and a salad drowned in ranch dressing.

It’s a good reminder that what we call authenticity is often just adaptation. And sometimes the adaptation is what sticks.

4) Chop suey

If you’ve ever eaten at a Chinese-American restaurant, you’ve likely seen chop suey on the menu. Boomers in particular grew up thinking it was a Chinese staple. The truth? Chop suey was born in the U.S.

The exact story is debated—some say Chinese cooks in California created it from leftovers, others argue it came from immigrant workers blending Chinese cooking with local ingredients. Either way, chop suey is more American than Chinese.

For boomers, chop suey was often their first introduction to “Chinese food.” Restaurants tailored dishes to American palates—sweeter sauces, familiar vegetables, less spice. The exotic label was part of the draw, even if the dish itself was homegrown.

I think chop suey tells us something profound: when you’re far from home, you make do with what you have. Immigrants created dishes that tasted like memory but fit the realities of their new environment. For boomers, though, it simply became “Chinese food.”

5) Fortune cookies

This one feels almost like a plot twist. The crunchy, folded cookie with the little paper fortune inside? It’s not from China—it’s from California.

Fortune cookies were likely inspired by Japanese cracker traditions, then popularized by Chinese-American restaurateurs in the early 20th century. By the time boomers were kids, fortune cookies were a standard end to a “Chinese” meal in the States.

What’s interesting here is how powerful a symbol can be. Ask most Americans about Chinese food, and they’ll mention fortune cookies—even though people in China barely know they exist.

I still remember my first fortune cookie as a child. I cracked it open and read the tiny slip of paper like it was a secret meant just for me.

That moment of magic is exactly why the fortune cookie worked so well: it turned dessert into an experience. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t authentic. For boomers, it was memorable—and that’s what counts.

6) Pizza

You probably guessed pizza had immigrant roots, but many boomers thought of it as just another Friday night American meal. After all, frozen pizza boxes and local pizzerias were everywhere by the 1960s.

Of course, pizza is Italian. But what Americans know as pizza—especially the deep-dish and heavily topped versions—bears little resemblance to the original Neapolitan pie. Italian immigrants brought pizza to cities like New York and Chicago, where it transformed into something bigger, cheesier, and bolder.

Boomers were the first generation to experience pizza as a mainstream food. Pizzerias popped up in suburban strip malls, and frozen pizza became a staple for busy weeknights. For a generation raised on meat-and-potatoes dinners, pizza felt exciting, almost rebellious, but still safe enough to be embraced by everyone.

When I first learned the difference, it struck me how quickly food evolves once it crosses borders. One person’s comfort food is another’s reinvention. Maybe that’s why pizza feels both foreign and familiar at the same time.

7) French fries

Here’s a fun one. French fries—another food woven into the fabric of American diners, drive-ins, and lunch trays—probably came from Belgium. Not France.

Belgian villagers were frying potatoes as far back as the 17th century. American soldiers stationed in Belgium during World War I tasted them and, hearing French spoken in the region, brought the term “French fries” back with them.

By the time boomers were kids, fries were everywhere: tucked into drive-in trays, served with ketchup at diners, and later, packaged into frozen bags in grocery stores. They were cheap, filling, and endlessly adaptable.

It’s almost ironic: a dish that defines fast food Americana was actually adopted from Europe by accident. Sometimes cultural exchange happens not through intention, but through mishearing. And yet, the myth of the “French fry” stuck, proving how labels can shape reality.

Final thoughts

When you look at this list, it’s hard not to notice a theme: America’s most “classic” foods are often imports dressed in new clothes. Boomers grew up believing these dishes were homegrown, but really, they’re stories of migration, adaptation, and reinvention.

And maybe that’s not a bad thing. Food is living history—it evolves as people move, struggle, and settle. Each dish tells us not just where we came from, but how we’ve blended those influences into something new.

It also makes me wonder—what foods today feel “exotic” that might someday be considered mainstream American classics? Sushi rolls? Tacos? Plant-based burgers?

If history is any guide, tomorrow’s Americana is already simmering in someone’s kitchen right now.

So the next time you sit down with a slice of pie or a plate of pasta, maybe ask yourself: where did this food come from, and what story does it carry with it? Chances are, the answer is richer than you think.