As any person who’s traveled outside of his or her native country (or often dines in foreign-food restaurants) knows, the translation of food items names can vary widely, producing a diverse range of responses—excitement, confusion, humor and fear, among others.
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For foreign restaurants, it seems there are above all three options when it comes to written item translation. The first and undoubtedly least common is to make little to no effort to translate item names and descriptions. You’ll most often see this in restaurants that view translation as unnecessary, above all because of the restaurant’s location, i.e. its patrons, who ostensibly understand the foreign language or are familiar-enough with the items to not need translations of them. Occasionally, though, you’ll encounter untranslated menus in particularly posh restaurants as well, motivated by something like staunch authenticity.
The second most common option is similarly extreme: every name and description is translated as literally and thoroughly as possible. The most obvious motivation for this is to reach a wider audience, for with a complete lack of translation, patrons unfamiliar with the language and dishes might be less open to try the food. Of course, this isn’t universally true, but it’s understandable that many people prefer to orient their food choices around ingredients/items they already know they like. As a result of such exhausting translation, though—especially if the original language is erased completely—these restaurants will often retain a minimal sense of authenticity, and even repel those seeking a genuine meal from whatever region or culture supposedly represented.
Finally, there’s the moderate and most common option of providing translations in addition to the original menu language. This may be considered an effort to both encourage and reciprocate the sort of open-mindedness the foreign patrons will demonstrate in dining at the restaurant. There is no formula on how to appropriately achieve this balance, and the efforts undoubtedly vary, sometimes with hilarious results. Whether by providing completely bilingual menus or simply retaining the original names of the dishes, these restaurants seek to provide authentic cuisine to as many people as possible.
This final option, though, raises some questions that go beyond the translation of food items, extending to the crux of translation in general: that is, above all, how does linguistic distance affect our understanding and experiencing of authenticity? Does translation in some ways work against true authentic experience? An example: an Italian restaurant decides to start calling its manicotti Noodles Stuffed with Cheese and Meat and Covered with Tomato Sauce, but you know the recipe had been left completely untouched: would you feel as though the meal/restaurant/your experience had changed? If so, would that decrease the possible of your returning to the particular restaurant?
As a translator—regardless of what kind of texts—, are there are certain parts of language (besides names, perhaps) that you simply won’t translate? If so, what are they, and why do you refuse? Is it because you view it as impossible, or because doing so would cross some boundary of authenticity?
